Jenny arched an eyebrow. “It is not for the family name that I concerned myself with returning the goods in as discreet a manner as possible, Your Grace,” she replied, calmly. “But rather because I have been concerned with your son and his reasons for doing such a thing.” She waited until the Duke turned his head to look back at her, his gaze a little less intense than before. “It is still a question that troubles me, Your Grace, particularly if he has returned to what he once did.”
“You mean to say, it has been some time since he was last discovered doing such a thing?”
Jenny nodded, her expression firm. “That is precisely what I am saying, Your Grace,” she replied, praying that what she had said would help the Duke understand that the reasons behind John’s delinquent behavior could very well be to do with his lack of interest in his son. Perhaps, she considered, it was a desire to be seen, to be taken notice of, to be important to someone – even if it was done in the wrong way.
The Duke sighed heavily and looked out of the window once more. Nothing more was said for some minutes, leaving Jenny to wonder if anything she had said had captured the Duke’s interest in any way. Her heart grew heavy once more, seeing the struggle on the Duke’s features, the struggle that he tried so very hard to hide from everyone and perhaps, even from himself. What would occur if he chose to, one day, speak of it to someone? Would it ease the pain in his heart? Would he be able to look at his children again without pain? Without his tormented memories reminding him solely of his late wife? It had been a long time now since she had passed from this world, but even so, it seemed as though the Duke was determined to cling to her memory.
“Your Grace?”
She was speaking even before she knew what it was she intended to discover. The Duke turned back to face her, his eyes alight with sadness. “Yes, Miss Edgington?”
Swallowing the ache in her throat and battling against the urge to not say what she now knew she needed to, Jenny looked back at him steadily and squeezed her fingers together tightly in her lap.
“Your Grace, if there should ever be a need for you to speak openly with someone about your own suffering, then I would like you to know that I would be glad to listen.” The words came out in a rush, chasing after each other in their urge to be spoken. Jenny sat back in her seat and saw the Duke frown. She hoped she had not overstepped in some way. All she had wanted to do was to show him that he was not alone in his darkness. That there was a way for him to share his heart with someone willing to accept however much of his burden he wished to share.
The carriage began to slow, having arrived in the town only a few moments earlier. Still, the Duke said nothing. Jenny felt her tension continue to rise steadily within her and she prayed that she would not be rebuked for having offered such a thing.
“We have arrived.”
The Duke’s voice was gruff, his eyes turning away from her as the carriage drew to a stop. It seemed he had nothing to say about what she had offered.
“Let us hope we find him quickly,” Jenny murmured, as the carriage door was pulled open for them.
The Duke nodded, his face set. “Indeed,” he agreed, before exiting the carriage first and leaving her to sit alone for a few moments more.
Chapter Ten
Stephen could barely look at Miss Edgington as they began to walk through the town, looking for his son. She was something of an enigma to him. For to be so sharp-tongued and blunt only to turn around and offer him a listening ear and the chance to share his burden with her was more than a trifle confusing.
And yet, it was not something that he had been gifted by any other living soul on God’s earth. No-one had offered to come alongside him in his grief. No-one else had told him that they would be ready to listen should he wish to share his struggles with them. None of his acquaintances and friends back on the continent and in the army had ever even thought to offer such a thing.
“Your parents.”
The words burst from his mouth before he could hold them back. Miss Edgington turned around, surprised, her eyes wide and her mouth a little ajar.
“I have just recalled that you have recently lost your parents,” he said, feeling heat climb up his spine as he tried to explain himself. “That is what it is, is it not? That is why you stated that you could understand my sadness and my grief.”
Miss Edgington closed her mouth tightly, her eyes narrowing just a little. Did she think him wrong for considering such things at this moment, when he was meant to be seeking out his son?
“Yes, Your Grace,” she murmured, slowly, her gaze still fixed. “That is precisely what I meant. It is also why I wish to offer you a listening ear should you ever require it. It was not, by any means, the same kind of love, but it was love nonetheless.” She swallowed hard, a light sheen of tears coming into her eyes as she looked back at him. “They died together. I lost them both in one moment. That is why I say that I can understand grief. I know the hollowness that comes with feeling such a loss.”
He found himself nodding as though he had every intention of speaking to her about the difficulties that had come his way ever since Martha had been taken from him. “I wanted you to know that I do, in fact, recall what you stated.”
A tiny smile flickered around Miss Edgington’s mouth. “This recollection has come many days later,” she replied, a slight wryness to her tone. “But I am grateful for it. Now,” she gestured to the path ahead. “If we might continue to walk this way, we may find your son in the shadows somewhere.”
Stephen frowned hard, not at all pleased that his son had both disappeared and was now, it seemed, something of a thief upon occasion. He knew full well that Miss Edgington thought the reason for this behavior had something to do with his lack of interest in his son and his inability to reach out to him and join him in his grief, but he could not find a way to even acknowledge that aloud. Walking alongside Miss Edgington, and fully aware that the townsfolk were busy looking at him and whispering behind their hands about his presence here amongst them, he tried to fix his mind on his son and what he would have to either say or do when the time came to bring him home.
John must be made to understand that stealing from others was not something he would tolerate. John would be the next Duke which meant that his behavior had to be exemplary.
Not that you have given him much of an example to follow.
His conscience pricked him and Stephen felt heat flood his cheeks. Yes, he had not been a particularly good example to his son of late. He had to pray that John had been kept from hearing the whispers about him, such as when he had been found in the stables. For him to know just how disrespectable his father could be would surely be yet another burden for John’s small shoulders to bear.
Another stab of guilt brought to mind Miss Edgington’s words. It had been some time since John had last been discovered to be behaving in such a way. Was he doing so now because of Stephen’s inability to so much as speak to his son? He had never once thought to go in pursuit of him, had never once believed himself to be capable of simply spending a few hours in his children’s company, for fear that the memories of Martha would become too great to bear.
“There.”
Miss Edgington grasped his arm hard but did not point, clearly aware of the way the townsfolk were watching him.
“Oh, goodness!”
Her exclamation was soft, her eyes widening as they both took in what was occurring just in front of them. A large, burly man had come out of a shop and was looking all about him with narrowed eyes, whilst John hid in a small, dark corner only a few feet away. From where Stephen was standing, it was apparent that John was rather scared, for his eyes were wide and he kept glancing towards the man whilst his hand twisted and turned over something he held. His heart sank deep within him.
“Sir!”
Before he could stop her, Miss Edgington was hurrying towards the large fellow, her eyes fixed upon his and a bright smile on her face. Stephen had no other choice but to follow her, s
eeing John’s eyes turn towards Miss Edgington with what appeared to be a look of relief.
“Oh, do excuse my haste,” he heard Miss Edgington say, putting herself directly between the man and where John was hiding. “I am in the employ of the Duke and he is eager to return home but I simply must find something particular for the children.”
The burly fellow ran one hand over his balding head, his eyes a little narrowed as he looked at Miss Edgington. Stephen held himself back, not wanting to intervene in whatever it was Miss Edgington had planned.
“As you can see, my master is good enough to linger and wait for me,” Miss Edgington continued, with a small wave in Stephen’s direction. “Tell me, do you own this establishment?” She looked up at the tavern door and saw the name there – and Stephen felt his heart sink to his boots.
“Yes, miss,” the man replied, glancing towards Stephen with an almost awestruck air. “This is my place.”
“‘The Old Fox’,” Miss Edgington murmured, reading the name of the tavern and then smiling at the man. “Would you have a private parlor or anything of the like, where the Duke might rest for a time? Just until I have found what I need?”
The man’s eyes flared wide and he looked at Stephen as though he were an angel sent from heaven. “’Course I do,” he said at once, scraping a bow. “My name is Arthur. If you would just come this way, Your Grace, then I will do my very best to serve you.” He gave Stephen a grin, which, Stephen noticed, lacked a few teeth. Stephen quickly managed to suppress a shudder. It was clear what Miss Edgington intended to do, but to have to go into a tavern such as this was not something he was relishing.
“Thank you,” he replied, walking quickly past Miss Edgington and towards the open door. He threw a glance in her direction and saw her give him a small nod, as though he were doing just as she had expected and she was pleased with him in some way. “One drink, however. Miss Edgington, I shall only be a few minutes. Pray find whatever it is that you are seeking and return as quickly as you can. I would like to return home very soon.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Miss Edgington murmured, lowering her head in deference as he nodded at her, turning his head away before stepping into the tavern.
Some twenty minutes later, Stephen was more than ready to depart. The tavern had not been as terrible as he had thought, for Arthur, the proprietor, had treated him to a private parlor which was, in fact, very clean and well laid out. The drinks that had been pressed upon him, whilst not the finest ale he had ever encountered, was not stomach-churning, and he had managed to drink both. Now, however, he was more than ready to leave, silently praying that Miss Edgington had managed to maneuver John back into the carriage without another thought.
“Your lady be waiting for you outside, Your Grace.” Arthur’s head appeared, sticking around the edge of the door, rapping sharply with his knuckles as he did so. As though he wanted to capture Stephen’s attention. “Will I tell her to wait?”
“No, no.” Stephen rose to his feet briskly, giving Arthur a quick smile. “My very good thanks for your kindness here today. It was a pleasure to linger within such a welcoming setting whilst I waited for the governess to find what she needed.” He fished a few coins from his pocket, knowing it was far more than was due and set them on the table. “I thank you.”
Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the coins, stumbling slightly as he pushed the door open fully for Stephen. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he muttered, as Stephen made his way to the door. “Most kind of you.”
Hurrying outside, Stephen was more than relieved to see Miss Edgington waiting for him. By the look on her face, she had been able to retrieve John and, as she gave him a quick nod, he felt reassured that all was well.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Miss Edgington said to the fellow, smiling lightly at him. “Oh, before I forget, I discovered this on the ground near to the tavern.” She held up a thick gold ring on a thin chain. “Do you know to whom it belongs?”
To Stephen’s surprise, Arthur reached out and tugged it from Miss Edgington’s fingers, his relief more than apparent.
“It be mine,” he said, gruffly, looking at the ring gratefully. “I had it in my pocket and the next thing I know, some imp’s gone and fished it out of there and set off running out of here!” He shook his head, his voice nothing more than a growl. “If I’d found him, I’d have……” Trailing off, he glanced at Stephen and then looked away, clearly a little embarrassed. “The child must have dropped it. I am very grateful, miss.”
Miss Edgington smiled back at Arthur, not showing any sign of strain or tension. “I am glad,” she replied, beginning to turn away. “Good day, sir.”
“Good day, miss,” Arthur replied, scraping a bow once again as he looked towards Stephen. “And good day, Your Grace.”
“Good day,” Stephen murmured, giving the man one last glance before hurrying after Miss Edgington. It would not do to think of what Arthur might have done to John should he have caught the boy, for the anger on the man’s face as he had spoken of being stolen from was more than a little frightening.
“You have him, Miss Edgington?”
Miss Edgington nodded, her face set. “I do, Your Grace,” she replied, calmly. “He is awaiting us in the carriage. He has taken nothing other than the ring and chain from the tavern proprietor, and that was simple enough to return.” She glanced up at him, a look of concern growing in her eyes. “Pray, do not be overly harsh with the child, Your Grace,” she finished, quickly. “There is a reason to what he has done, I know it.”
“You think my lack of interest in my son has sent him down this particular path,” Stephen bit out, finding a knot of anger settling in his stomach. “But leave me to deal with my son in my own way, Miss Edgington. I do not require your assistance in this matter.”
Miss Edgington made to say something, only to bite her lip and turn her head away. Stephen stalked to the carriage, ready to speak his mind to his son – only to see a small, white, scared face looking back at him.
His heart dropped, his stomach tensed and a feeling of nausea rushed over him. He stared back into his son’s face, recalling the times that John had been afraid of a storm or of shadows playing in the gloom, and how Martha had always been there to comfort him. She was not here now. She was not present, ready to step in with arms wide open for an embrace and words of sympathy and understanding ready to be whispered into his ear.
“Your Grace?”
It was only then that he realized he had come to a dead stop, standing a few feet away from his carriage. With an effort, Stephen forced his stiff limbs to move and he hurried forward, climbing into the carriage and sitting down opposite his son. Once Miss Edgington was seated – next to John and not next to him, Stephen noted – the carriage began the journey back to the manor house.
“I will not tolerate this behavior under my roof, John.”
The boy’s eyes dropped to the floor of the carriage. His head lowered and his hands tightened in his lap. “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice weak and tremulous.
“That fellow would have beaten you until you could barely stand,” Stephen continued, aware that his voice was harsh but feeling a deep surge of protectiveness crash over him. “It was more than foolish, child.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Again, those whispered words. That broken spirit. Stephen felt plagued with guilt and fear and horror over what might have occurred, had Miss Edgington not stepped in to save John from Arthur’s fury.
“You will take yourself to your room and remain there for the rest of the day,” he finished, seeing Miss Edgington watch him steadily. “Do I make myself clear?”
John glanced up at him, his eyes still wide but with two spots of color now in his cheeks. “Yes, Your Grace,” he agreed, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his head again. Miss Edgington reached across and rested one hand on John’s arm and, much to Stephen’s surprise, the boy leaned into her.
His heart burst with something akin to r
elief. It was as though he were glad to see John so willing to accept Miss Edgington’s aid. As though he realized that the child needed someone to stand alongside him and care for him in the way that Stephen could not. And then came the barrage of guilt, the knowledge that he himself had done nothing to help his son or his daughter through their grief at the loss of their mother. Instead, he had simply sent them away, back to England, so that he might deal with his pain in his own way. Yes, he had told himself that he believed it to be for the best and yes, even now, he might agree that it had been the correct decision, but he had not needed to linger behind for so long. He had not been required to wait on the continent, to return to the army and to attempt to find a life there instead of coming home to England. To his estate and his children. What had they endured without him?
The guilt that assuaged him was so fresh, so sharp and so troubling that, when the carriage arrived back at the manor house, Stephen could not bring himself to say another word to his son. John left the carriage and waited patiently for Miss Edgington, looking up at her with grateful eyes before walking back to the house alongside her. No doubt she and John would have many a conversation soon, where he would tell her the truth of his actions and she would try and express to him her own fears over his disappearance and her concern for his behavior. Whilst he himself would do nothing other than return to his duties and his brandy, continuing to avoid the friendship and closeness with his children that could so easily be a part of his life, if only he would reach out to accept it.
It was the one thing he could not yet bring himself to do, and so, with the familiar, heavy burdens now settling themselves back on his shoulders again, Stephen turned back to the house and walked inside, as alone as he had always been.
Chapter Eleven
“I do not think our father likes us very much.”
A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4) Page 9