Page 42 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)

W hen Ava wasn’t off visiting Edith, she took most of her meals in her room.

Indeed, she spends quite a bit of time in her room nowadays.

It seemed like the only thing to do. If she went outside, she would be faced with a thousand reminders of the happy life she had so nearly had.

The garden, for starters, was a mirror of the one they had planted in the country.

Going out for long walks with Luke and Christian.

And, of course, all the places in the house that reminded her of Christian alone.

Even her bed wasn’t safe from the memories, she realized with a pang to her heart.

But as long as she stayed in it, she wouldn’t have to walk around the estate trying to avoid Christian, or any reminders of him.

There was a knock at the door. She hated how her heart lurched at the sound, as though hoping it was Christian. “Come in,” she said.

She did not temper her hopes enough—she still was hit with a powerful wave of disappointment when it turned out not to be Christian, although her heart was buoyed slightly by the sight of Luke with Pudding in his arms.

“Hello, Ava,” he said.

“Hello, Luke,” she said. “What are the two of you doing here?”

“I know you have been unwell,” Luke said, approaching the bed. “Or maybe just sad. D-did I do something to hurt your feelings?”

Her heart sank. In all of her malaise, she had never once wanted Luke to be aware of the problems she and Christian were having.

“No,” she protested. “Of course not.”

“G-good,” Luke said. Approaching the bed, he allowed Pudding to crawl onto it. “I just thought that maybe Pudding would make you feel better. He always makes me f-feel better when I am sad.”

“That is very kind of you, Luke,” Ava said. The cat climbed onto the bed and curled up in her lap. The weight of him was indeed a comfort, she had to admit.

“I’ll let you r-rest,” Luke said. “And maybe when you are f-feeling better, we can p-p-play in the garden again?”

“Of course we can,” she assured him. “And you will have to tell me all about your lessons, and about the books you are reading.”

“And we can begin having dinner as a family again?” he asked. “I know Father has been very busy, as well. And I like eating dinner with just him and me alone, or with just you and me alone. But I like it best when it is the three of us together.”

Ava’s heart sank even further. What could she say?

The matters between Christian and her were much too complicated to explain to a young child like Luke—particularly when they were so complex, she felt as though she barely understood them herself.

“Perhaps,” she said, not wanting to dash his hopes but also not wanting to indulge him in false hopes.

She had given up on Christian as a loving husband, but he would always be a loving father to Luke, that she knew for certain.

Luke scrunched his brow in an expression that made him look so much like a tiny version of Christian that Ava nearly laughed with recognition and sadness.

“P-perhaps?”

Ava racked her brain for something to say that would make sense to a child.

“Thank you for coming to check on me, Luke,” she said. “It was very kind. And I am most sorry if I made you worry about me. It was never my intention.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I just m-miss playing with you. And so does Pudding. He told me so.”

“Oh?” she asked. Ava couldn’t help but crack a small smile at Luke’s funniness, and she was rewarded with one of his brighter smiles. “Is that so? Pudding told you himself?”

“Yes,” Luke said cheerily. “We have been keeping up with our meowing. You will be m-much impressed with us when you come to play with us next.”

Clearly satisfied that he had been successful in his mission to cheer her up, he turned back to the door.

“You d-don’t need to say sorry for other p-people worrying about you, Ava,” he said. “I don’t mind. That’s what happens when you c-care about someone. You worry about them whether you w-want to or not. Just like how you worried about me with the horse. Or how Father worried when you were sick.”

And with that, he left, leaving Ava all alone to ponder the truth of his words.

He was right, of course. When you cared about someone—loved them, even—it was impossible not to worry about them, she reckoned. One had no choice in the matter.

But love made the worry bearable, or so she had always thought.

Seeing as how Christian had chosen to avoid her entirely rather than risk worrying about her at all, she felt as though she had proper confirmation that he did not want to care about her at all.

She sighed. Pudding purred on her lap, the sound increasing as she began to pet his head.

But even Pudding’s softness and warmth was not enough to lift the heaviness that had sunken like a stone on top of her heart.

Christian had never been much of a drinker. But over the past week or so, since he and Ava had drawn a line in the sand between them, he had taken to going out more frequently than he was used to.

It began with a glass of scotch alone in his office every now and again. But after two or three times of that same occurrence, he realized he could imagine no worse thing than drinking alone in a dark, quiet room.

However, he also was not feeling particularly up to the rowdy socialization of a popular London gentleman’s club. So, he mainly contained his drinking to smaller pubs on the outskirts of the city.

This was one such night. He was three or four drinks deep, the most inebriated he had been in a while. Around him, there was a low buzz of conversation from the rest of the pub’s patrons.

He tried his best to keep his head from slumping onto the bar in front of him, less from drink than from exhaustion and sadness. He had been sleeping poorly ever since his last conversation with Ava.

It haunted him. The look on her face when she finally gave up. He had pushed her away so strongly that even a woman as determined and stubborn as Ava had deemed him a lost cause.

The thought stung, though he could not deny he felt as though it was no less than what he deserved.

“Another round, sir?’ the barkeep asked.

Christian waved him off. “No, thank you,” he said.

“That’s probably a good call,” came a voice from behind him. “Never a good idea to drink alone. I thought you knew that, Christian.”

Vincent slid into a stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Christian grumbled.

“Looking for you,” Vincent said, waving off the barkeep before he could approach. He eyed Christian’s mostly empty glass. “But I think you knew that.”

Christian made a sound that could have been an agreement or a disagreement; he wasn’t quite certain himself.

“You are one of the smartest men I know, Christian,” Vincent said, pitching his voice low so that only Christian could hear him amidst the din of the busy pub. “As a matter of fact, I would say you are far, far too intelligent to willingly throw your life down the drain in this way.”

“What life,” Christian said mournfully, thinking of how Ava had accused him of allowing his fears to rule him. Here he was, proving her right.

A life ruled by fear—what sort of life was that? And yet, he could not see a way out of the hole he had dug for himself.

“You have a title men would die for—not to be crass,” Vincent said. “You have wealth and a successful business, making you richer by the day. You are what some women may consider handsome, though, of course, you are not as handsome as I.”

Christian took another sip of his drink.

“You have a son. In case you’ve forgotten.

I know you never could, but it is worth bringing up.

You’ve done quite a good job with him, you know, and it is clear he looks up to you a great deal,” Vincent continued.

“My son said as much. When they played together, apparently, he wouldn’t stop talking about how proud he was to have you as a father. ”

Christian felt his throat tighten. But he didn’t protest or take another sip of his drink.

“And you have a wife,” Vincent concluded.

“And it is clear from the way she looks at you that she cares for you very much. Perhaps even loves you. And it is even more clear to me, as someone who has known you for many years, how deeply you love and care for her. And yet all you continue to do is push her away.”

“Protecting her,” Christian muttered, shaking his head.

Vincent gently slapped his hand on the bar.

“Protecting her from what?” he asked. “From the pain of future loss? There is no life without loss, Christian. You haven’t deprived her of it in the least. All you have done is put her through that pain sooner.

And now every day you spend in the same house, married, you will have to know that you could have had perfect happiness, and yet you pushed it away with both hands because you were afraid. ”

“It is not fear, it is—” Christian shook his head in frustration at his inability to find the words he was searching for.

“Fate,” he finally came up with. “It is fate. As you say, there is no life without loss. It is a fact I know well. After Isabel, I came to terms with the fact of loss. I had not thought to ever hope again until Ava. She made me …” He cleared his throat.

“Hope is the most dangerous thing,” he said.

“I know that now. I know better than to tempt fate. I will not risk Ava’s life like that. ”

Throughout this little speech, Vincent remained perfectly silent, not nodding or shaking his head or making any move to interrupt. All he did was listen intently.

When Christian was finished, Vincent let another moment pass. Then he raised a hand to wave at the barkeep. He tossed some money onto the bar and then looped a hand through Christian’s elbow.

“Come on,” he said. “No more of this. It is getting to be ridiculous.”

“I am being nothing but perfectly reasonable,” Christian muttered.

He did nothing to help Vincent, but he didn’t fight him as the other man began to maneuver him towards the door.

“I don’t want to go home,” he said, hating the hint of pleading that had entered his voice.

“Then I would say you are in luck,” Vincent said. “I am not taking you to your home. Not right away, at the very least. We have more important business to attend to, so that you may change course before you throw away your chances.”

Christian climbed up into Vincent’s carriage obediently, but unhappily. “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

Vincent climbed up into the carriage and slammed the door behind him. Nearly as soon as that happened, Christian felt the carriage peel off, rattling over the roads.

“If you won’t listen to reason,” Vincent said, “perhaps you will listen to the dead.”

Ava had just finished another visit with Edith. Most of it had been spent receiving the same well-meaning advice and comfort from her friend, while she tried her best to steer the conversation in any other direction. Now, she and her maid were walking home.

The sun was beginning to set, but it was not so late that Ava had felt the need to take the carriage. After all, she wasn’t alone, and the weather was nice out.

Besides, she was not exactly in any kind of rush or hurry to get home, only to have to avoid Christian.

However, as another carriage pulled up beside them, Ava was beginning to regret her decision to walk.

“Ava! It has been quite some time since I’ve been graced with your beauty.”

She froze where she stood, every muscle tightening.

“Your Grace?” her maid said. “Are you all right?”

“Quite all right,” said the new voice from the carriage. Ava looked up to see Brandon stepping out from the carriage to smoothly stop just in front of her. “I was merely passing by, and despaired to see two ladies left out to walk in the streets. May I offer you two a ride home?”

“No, thank you,” Ava said.

“Are you quite certain? Those shoes you’re wearing—they look expensive, but not very comfortable,” he said, his voice lined with silk.

Ava felt a shudder of disgust crawl up her spine as he looked her up and down, like a wild animal taking stock of its prey.

“Kate,” she said. “Would you give us a moment alone, please?”

Kate, her maid, looked at her with wide eyes. “Are you certain, Your Grace?”

Ava nodded. “Not too far,” she assured the younger woman. She saw Kate visibly relax at this, though she still looked back at Brandon nervously as she walked away.

She didn’t go too far, just a few paces past the carriage, but it was far enough that Ava felt she could speak to Brandon frankly, without fear of prying ears.

Evidently, Brandon felt the same way. Before she could so much as open her mouth, he said, “A moment of privacy? I’m honored. Shall I take this as agreement, then?”

“No,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “It seems you are hard of hearing, if you did not hear me the first time. I bid you good night.”

She turned to call Kate. Before she could, however, he laughed so loudly it startled her.

“Not so hard of hearing that I have no idea what is going on in that happy little townhouse of yours, Your Grace ,” he said, putting an extra cruel mocking emphasis on her title.

Ava lifted her chin up. “You can’t frighten me with any of those old rumors, Brandon,” she said. “I am married. I have a new life.”

“Yes. A new life with a man who has since grown cold on you, no? Or else you wouldn’t be walking home alone from your widowed friend,” he pointed out snidely.

He took a step closer. She took a step back, but held off on calling for Kate, if only because she needed to know what sort of horrible thing Brandon might threaten her with next. In some ways, it was more frightening not to know.

“You deserve a man who understands your body,” he purred, his voice running even lower. An even crueler glint entered his eye. “And who won’t burden you with the ghost of a dead wife?”

Ava’s breath froze in her throat. “I had thought you couldn’t possibly sink to any further depths, and yet it turns out you are ten times viler than even I had thought,” she hissed.

Brandon tossed his head back, letting out a cavalier laugh. “Ah, women say such funny things in the throes of passion,” he said. “Consider my offer, Ava darling. I could be very discreet. You needn’t fear for your marriage. I have always preferred my mistresses with a ring on their fingers.”

“Get away from me,” she said, so sharply she even surprised herself.

It seemed she surprised Brandon, as well. For the first time, he stopped his slow approach, and the ever-present smug expression dropped from his face.

“If you ever speak to me like that again, you will regret it,” she said. Then she saw Kate approaching, having taken the increased volume of the conversation as a sign to return. “Come, Kate,” Ava said. “We are leaving.”

To her surprise, Brandon did not make any sort of attempt to gain the last word. However, when she glanced back at him, her blood ran cold at the hatred on his face.

She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She and Kate both kept looking back at the remainder of their walk home.