Page 26 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)

“ L uke?” Christian asked after only a few bites had been taken out of the dessert. Luke, like most boys his age, usually had a huge appetite, and so the change was marked and worrying. “Is everything all right?”

Luke was uncharacteristically quiet at dinner. In the days since their visit to the village, he had been chattering on and on about the books he was reading, and the garden, and all the tricks he was teaching Pudding.

But tonight, he was silent. Christian noticed with concern that not only was the boy not speaking, but he was also barely touching his food.

Luke hesitated, then shook his head.

“What is it?” Christian asked.

“I w-wish I remembered M-Mother more,” Luke said quietly.

One could hear a pin drop in the room, the quiet pressing in like a living thing.

“You know,” Christian began after a moment, “that is …” He cleared his throat. “There is no point in dwelling on it. You were very young when she passed on, and so it is perfectly normal that you wouldn’t remember her. To feel sad about something like that is a pointless waste of energy.”

Luke looked at his father in silence. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“Don’t say that,” Ava said quietly.

Christian turned to look at her. “What?”

“His mother was an important part of your life,” Ava said. Her voice was even-tempered, infuriatingly reasonable sounding. “She still is.”

“She is n?—”

“Luke wouldn’t be here without her,” she said, softly but so firmly that Christian immediately went quiet. “It is perfectly normal for him to miss her. And to wish he remembered her better. I can’t think of a more natural thing.”

“And how, exactly, would you qualify yourself as an expert on the subject?” Christian asked, his temper beginning to come close to boiling over.

“You recall I am a widow myself,” she replied.

“I do not begrudge you your widowhood,” he said sharply. “But you do seem to have a great many opinions on child-rearing for a woman who has never borne a child of her own.”

Ava fell silent. Even across the table, he could see the hurt rising in her eyes. Damn it, he had gone too far.

“I—” he began, but was cut off by the scrape of her chair as she pushed it back and rose to her feet.

“Pardon my early departure,” she said, tears evident in her voice, “but I think I’d rather retire to my chambers now. Good night.”

She left too quickly for him to say anything.

Only Luke called after her, “G-g-good night, Ava.”

They passed several more minutes in silence, only broken by the sounds of silverware.

Finally, Luke put down his fork and said, “F-Father, m-may I p-p-please be excused?”

Christian nodded, holding back a sigh. “Yes, Luke. Good night,” he said.

“Good night, F-f-father,” Luke said. At the door, he paused, forcing his maid to stop as well, and turned. “A-A-Ava isn’t s-so mad that she’ll l-l-leave us, w-will she?”

Christian’s heart sank. Not only had he upset Ava, but he had failed his son again. Not only that, but it was a stark reminder of how Ava had managed to bond with Luke in just a few weeks of knowing him, in a way Christian hadn’t managed to do in eleven years.

“No,” he said after a moment. “Of course not.” He doubted the words himself as he spoke them.

But it seemed to reassure Luke, wiping some of the tension from his face. He nodded wordlessly and then turned and let his maid take him to bed.

Once alone, Christian sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.

It wasn’t a lie , he told himself.

Ava wouldn’t leave. If only because she needed the stability of the marriage.

And, of course, because of Luke.

He hated that those were the only two reasons he could come up with.

To Ava’s surprise, Christian came to find her the next morning.

She was sitting in the garden, reading a book, when she saw a tall shadow fall across the lawn before her. She looked up, squinting into the sun. Backlit like this, he looked something like an angel.

If the angel in question were an utter prick, of course.

“Good morning, husband,” she said, offering him a cold nod, which Christian returned.

“Good morning,” he said. “May we speak?”

“I believe we already are,” she said, not bothering to keep her tone overly cordial.

Clearly, he was uninterested in maintaining even a polite facade between them, so why should she care?

He sighed. But he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he simply said, “I have business to attend to in London.”

Ava blinked. That didn’t even sound close to an apology. “Oh?” she asked.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “I am due to leave tomorrow. Should I plan for you and Luke to join me?”

Inside, Ava was fuming. How dare he be so cold, as though last night had not occurred at all?

“I’m surprised you are deigning to ask me,” she said, “considering the fact that I have never born a child of my own.”

His eyes tightened. “I have … regrets,” he said finally. “About the state of things between us. Luke is glad to have you here. As am I. We both appreciate how you have helped him.”

It wasn’t an apology. Not even close. But it was, at least, an acknowledgement. Ava hated that she felt even slightly pacified by it. She lifted her chin proudly, as though to mask the uneven brew of emotions welling up within her.

“Well,” she said. “I suppose it would be good for Luke to socialize with a greater variety of people than is available to him on the country estate.”

“I thought so myself,” Christian said in agreement. She was almost shocked by his easy assent. Though, of course, she supposed it was the least he could do, after his cruelty the night before. “You will come as well, then?”

She considered for a moment. “Can Pudding come?”

She saw his jaw stiffen.

“Yes,” he said after a few seconds, though it sounded strained.

She pursed her lips. “Very well,” she said. “Then I will, as well.”

His brow lifted. “Good,” he said. “Very good.”

Those eyes—brighter, sharper, impossibly blue—made her anger falter. Try as she might, her irritation did nothing to dull the pull she felt toward him.

“Good,” she replied.

Their eyes locked, and the space around her shrank until the air between them felt electric, each breath a spark she could feel on her skin.

“Well,” Christian said at last, breaking eye contact. “Good. We will leave tomorrow morning, early. Make your preparations accordingly.”

“I shall have my things packed by tonight,” she replied sharply.

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine,” she replied.

“Fine.” He looked lost after this.

It was like he wanted to keep the conversation going, but didn’t know how. Ava didn’t feel particularly inclined to try to help him.

“Good day,” he said finally, and then left.

Ava sat there, staring at her book, fuming and bewildered. She had sworn to live with this man until death do they part.

So how was it that the more she got to know him, the less it seemed she understood him?