And to finally have a use for that pain. That it might ease her own, by proving that heartbreak was fickle in who it chose to afflict with its symptoms. She was not alone.
They talked for perhaps an hour more, until duty called him elsewhere.
When he left, he’d hoped to take the heart he’d left behind the last time they’d met with him. But still, she held to it firmly, whether she knew it or not.
Perhaps even more tightly than before. This time, he was glad to leave it with her. He trusted her with it, whether or not he should.
For the rest of the day, Nathaniel could not stop smiling.
Until he received word that his parents wanted to speak with him.
Chapter 11
Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe
Since Nathaniel had come to the house, Margaret was left wondering if perhaps her initial decision to keep him away from Ezra was unfounded.
Her conviction wavered. Every day she alternated between resolve and surrender, made worse by her son’s continued silence.
He wasn’t improving.
When the doctor came to check on him, Margaret shared a private word with him afterwards. “His mood is so very low,” she said, quietly, to keep Ezra from hearing them through the door. “Could it be the pain?”
The doctor shook his head. “The pain does not seem to be giving him too much grief. If he continues to take his medicine, he should remain reasonably comfortable.
But the leg isn’t healing quite as I expected.” When Margaret flickered her eyes towards the bedroom door, the doctor lowered his voice. “I believe his mood may be the culprit. Grief has a way of halting the healing process.”
“Is there anything I can do to help him cope with his grief?”
The doctor’s features were grim. “Encourage him to spend time with people.”
“But he will not,” she said. “I try every day, but he will see no one.”
“Does he have no friends here? No one he might like to see?”
Margaret fell quiet. There was of course only one individual who had managed to draw Ezra out of his lonely shell.
A man who was continuing to break down her walls, to her dismay. A man who could be resisted, provided she did not see him.
But it was becoming clear to her that keeping Lord Sterling away might be more detrimental to Ezra’s wellbeing than allowing him to visit.
Albeit, terrible for her own wellbeing.
“Thank you, doctor.”
She bid him farewell and resumed her daily habit of walking the estate and gnawing her nails until she reached the soft, raw skin of her fingertips.
She walked late into the evening, back and forth, until her calves and feet grew sore.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and looked about the room.
It was so terribly empty. She wanted Ezra beside her, so she could feel him in her arms. Safe and warm and happy.
That was all she wanted for him. Safety, warmth and happiness. Such simple things that every boy had a right to.
Margaret lay back and pulled the covers up to her chin. She recalled every word that Nathaniel Sterling had said to Ezra.
Remembered how his young face had lit up. She missed that look of rapture so much that she could scarcely stand it.
It was true that the Earl was dangerous, in his own sweet way. But she realized, as sleep swallowed her, that her son’s current state may be just as treacherous.
***
Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire
“We have fantastic news,” his mother said, with a delighted clap of her hands. She looked rather like a child. Nathaniel had scarcely walked in when she’d spoken.
“Not even a greeting, mother?” He said, with a warm smile. He kissed her upon the cheek and acknowledged his father, who was stood beside the window looking out over the grounds, with a courteous nod.
“Oh, forgive me, my darling.” She kissed him once on each cheek. “I am only terribly excited for you.”
Nathaniel’s smile dropped like a weighted rock. “For me?” He looked to his father again, with a sense of foreboding lurking like a shadow over head.
“Yes, my dear!”
“We have found you an eligible woman,” his father said, rather stealing his mother’s thunder, as he turned away from the window to fix Nathaniel with a steady look.
“Eligible!” His mother said, in a rush. “Oh my love thank goodness you did not take up a career as a merchant. You couldn’t sell a pen.” She said it with a beaming smile, and entirely good-heartedly, cupping her hands together as though she wanted to grab Nathaniel by the head and squeeze all her love into him. “She is not only eligible,” she continued. “She is beautiful.”
Nathaniel tried to keep his disappointment from showing, but his father had a keen eye and could not pass up on the chance to find more reasons to be unhappy with his son. “You do not seem thrilled.”
His mother’s face fell. “No, no,” Nathaniel said, quickly. “I am most thrilled, mother. I am only disappointed that I must wait to meet her.”
His father huffed out a noise of derision. “Then you will meet her tonight.”
“If only I could, dear father,” he answered, with barely concealed tension. This had always been the way between him and his father.
Tension, disguised behind amicable smiles and courtesy, to keep his mother from seeing the truth of their relationship.
That there was very little to it, beyond disappointment and distaste. “Only, I have promised Clark Bennet my company this evening.” It was a poor excuse, but one that his father would not be able to prove false.
Had he claimed that he was working, he was sure his father would have probed and – upon discovering that Nathaniel was not indeed working – find some elaborate and cunning way to punish him for it without his mother’s knowledge.
“Tomorrow then,” his father persisted, in a level voice.
He felt his mother’s keen eyes. Her expectation coiled in her little body like a viper, ready to bite him. “Do make time, my darling. What could be more important?”
Anything.
He smiled, a little stiffly, and nodded. “Tomorrow then. I am so looking forward to it.”
With a squeal of delight, his mother threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. If he could have seen inside her mind, he knew what he’d see there.
Wedding bells, dresses, flowers and a bride walking down the aisle. He imagined that she was already choosing her mother of the groom outfit.
As she embraced him, Nathaniel and his father made eye contact over her shoulder.
Neither of them smiled.
***
Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe
In sore need of company, to take her mind of the Earl and Ezra’s condition, Margaret took a walk with William. He visited her most days and would spend a number of hours trying to coax her to be frank with him about how she was feeling.
But each time, she would plaster on a smile and assure him that she was quite well. Only tired.
“How was your meal with the Earl?”
Margaret nodded. “Lovely,” she said, somewhat dismissively.
“Is that all you have to tell me?”
“What more could there be to tell?”
“Was he a nice gentleman?” His voice was less playful, but she was too emotionally drained to address whatever feeling was lurking in his tone.
“A nice enough gentleman.”
William had never been an impatient man, yet now his brows pulled together and he expelled a hefty, impatient breath. “Yes, but was that all?”
She frowned at him and stopped walking. She didn’t understand why he was pushing so much. “What more could there be? He was as most gentleman are.”
It was a lie, one that she kept telling herself. William watched her face carefully for a moment, as though scrutinizing her sincerity. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him.
“Very well. A nice enough gentleman then.” The pair of them began to walk again. “And do you expect to see him again?”
She’d been asking herself this question for days. Margaret affected a look of disinterest and shrugged. “Only time will tell.”
They walked in silence for a while longer, before speaking of London.
She was glad to put Nathaniel from her mind, for a short time at least. He was never too far from her thoughts.
***
Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire
“Well, how did it go?” Clark said, as Nathaniel returned home.
Nathaniel threw down his coat and snapped out, “Do you have nothing better to do than lurk around my house like a vampire waiting for me to come home?”
“Badly, then?”
Bristling like an angry rhino, Nathaniel ignored him and slumped into the nearest seat. “Terribly.”
“Was she not to your taste?” There was a smile in Clark’s voice. He was enjoying this.
Nathaniel grimaced. “She was not too pleased with what I had to tell her.”
“The plot thickens,” Clark said, as he leaned forwards in his seat. “What did you tell the poor girl?”
“That while my parents are quite committed to the idea of my marrying, it is simply not in my cards.”
“And therefore, not in hers,” Clark added.
Nathaniel gave an irritable wave of his hand. “There will be other men. A man who is not quite so married to his work.”
“I imagine you’d be rather inclined to slacken your workload… for a certain woman.”
Nathaniel flashed him a dark look.
“A Duchess, perhaps.”
“You are an abysmal friend,” Nathaniel grumbled.
Clark laughed loudly and Nathaniel could not help but smile a little. As much as his friend irritated him, Clark remained extremely dear to Nathaniel. War has a strange way of breeding intense friendships between men.
“And…” Clark pressed. “Has the Duchess been much on your mind?”
Nathaniel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “She is a constant presence.”
“An unwelcome one?”
Nathaniel didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure.
“I see,” Clark said, with an uncharacteristically soft smile.
“You see what?”
Clark shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing, my friend. Nothing at all.”
Chapter 12
Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe
Margaret reached her tipping point the day that she heard the crash. The house went still and silent, before it erupted.
She met Miss Hallow and Miss White in the hallway, each of them moving so quickly that they almost tipped each other over. They rushed up the stairs, with Margaret leading the way, until they came to Ezra’s room.
He was on the floor. Sobbing. She felt her heart stutter, then kickstart again.
“My darling, are you hurt?” She rushed towards him as she spoke and tried to take his hand. But he wrapped his arms around his belly and curled into a tight ball, as much as his cast would allow. The crutches were abandoned beside him.
“I only wanted to ride again,” he croaked through tears. It became clear to her that he’d tried to walk without the crutches and taken a hard fall.
Margaret went onto her knees beside him. “But Ezra, are you hurt?” Her hands trembled above him. She yearned to touch him, hold him, but thought she might make matters worse.
Ezra shook his head, with his eyes tightly closed. His eyes were still pouring out tears. “Then why are you crying, sweetheart?” She put her hands upon his cheeks and pushed the tears back with her fingertips.
Very gently, she pulled her boy into her lap and held his head cupped against her chest. She pressed her lips into his hair, over and over, and breathed in his familiar vanilla sweetness. It had been so long since he’d allowed her this close. “I hurt in here,” he snuffled out.
He touched his sternum.
And that made the decision for her. She took hold of his tiny hand and gripped it in hers. She kissed it, every single finger, and held it against her cheek to let him feel the warmth of her. “I know, my baby, I know.” Her own eyes had started to water.
She held him until the sun set. With every second that passed, she thought that she would surely never be able to rise again. She wouldn’t be able to find the strength in her legs to do so. They were weak with sorrow that she’d never known before.
A sorrow that far surpassed the death of her husband, or the shame that accompanied the scandal. She only wanted her baby back.
When Ezra slept soundly, with the tears dry upon his cheeks, Margaret carried him back to bed.
She could not wait until morning to send word.
Margaret wrote the letter and asked Miss White to have it sent immediately.
***
Lord Nathaniel Sterling, Earl of Comptonshire
My dear Lord Sterling,
I beg your forgiveness for writing you at such an hour. I know that you are a busy man. I only write to see if your offer to visit my son might still stand, but I could not wait until morning.
Given the accusation I set upon you when last we met, I know that I am undeserving of such kindness. Despite this, I believe that Ezra will benefit from your company. And he is more deserving of kindness than any man or woman I know. As the woman who holds him dearest, neither etiquette nor dignity could keep me from asking this of you.
If you would do us this honor, you would be welcomed at any hour.
Yours most faithfully,
Lady Margaret Baxter
And there, at the bottom, her signature was an elegant sweep.
He’d not received the letter until early the next morning, when his head of house had impressed upon him - most strongly - that the letter had been delivered in haste the night before, while Nathaniel had been sleeping.
They expressed that they hadn’t wanted to disturb him, but that they believed it to be urgent.
An urgency that the Duchess had largely omitted from her letter. She spoke little of Ezra’s condition and the letter was rather mysterious, but he felt certain that she would not have sent it without an extremely good reason for doing so.
The Duchess had always been noticeably reserved with him, despite his attempts to breach the distance between them.
It had been a number of days since he’d last offered to visit Ezra, when she’d downright refused. So he had not expected to hear from her again, which had played upon his mind terribly.
The thought of not seeing her had kept him awake most nights.
And now she called upon him, but he felt that the circumstances of her request must surely be terrible.
He dressed promptly that morning and postponed a number of meetings so that he could go to her, without delay.
***
Lady Margaret Abigail Baxter, Duchess of Lowe
When Miss White came to tell her of the Earl’s arrival, Margaret was not yet dressed. The dawn had barely broken.
He must have come the moment he had read the letter. Her heart thundered so loudly that she could hear it like an achy thrum in her ears as she dressed, with as much haste as she could manage.
When she saw him there, looking as though he’d just tumbled out of bed, with his thick hair tousled about his head like a halo… she could have kissed him. Yes, unladylike as it would have been, she could very well have kissed him.
He looked anxious, with a fine furrow in his brow, and he took a sudden step when he saw her.
“Is he quite well?” Nathaniel asked, briskly, and seemed to barely keep himself from ascending the remaining steps to meet her.
She met him at the final step, which allowed her to meet his height for the first time. His eyes were level with hers. And they were so vibrant with concern.
Such concern she’d never seen in a man’s eyes before. “My Lord,” she said, breathily, and felt remorse sweep upon her. Sh
e had been in such a state last night that her feelings had run away with her.
She shouldn’t have sent for him so urgently. “I… I was not expecting you so soon.”
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