“Thank you for joining us this evening,” she said.
“And I thank you for the invitation,” Philip replied, also lifting his glass to her.
“Mr. Butler,” Oliver said as he sat across from Philip on Caroline’s right hand, “have you ever gone fishing before?”
“Yes, I have, young master,” Philip replied. “Do you enjoy it?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to go, but I’m not sure how to go about it. Could you teach me?”
His innocent brown eyes, looking very much like his mother’s, made it difficult for Philip to deny the boy his request. Yet, he should, for he feared a growing attachment to the boy. To find himself separated from both the boy and his mother would be unbearable.
Caroline, however, was appalled. “Oliver, you should not be asking such things of Mr. Butler. He has other tasks with which to concern himself. He does not need to be traipsing after a young boy who is not in his care.”
Oliver lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”
Philip set his fork on his plate and looked at Caroline through his hair. He still could not get himself to look at her directly. “I will honor any request you make of me,” he said meaningfully.
“Very well,” she replied after a moment of thought. “Tomorrow, after your studies, of course, you may go fishing, and Mr. Butler will accompany you. But you must give Miss Lindston your gravest attention.”
The boy nodded emphatically. “I will, Mother. I promise!” He returned to his dinner with fervor, clearly excited for the following day’s activities.
When everyone appeared to have eaten as much as they could, Caroline turned to Oliver and said, “Miss Lindston will see you to bed. I will be up shortly to read you a story.”
Oliver pushed his chair back. “Yes, Mother,” he said and then went to allow his mother to place a kiss on his cheek. Then he turned to Philip. “Thank you for taking me fishing tomorrow, Mr. Butler.”
“I am honored,” Philip replied, and the boy bounded out of the room and up the stairs, the voice of the governess following after him that he should walk and not run.
“He is a fine young man,” Philip said as he went to pull the chair out for Caroline.
When she turned to look at him, their eyes met for a moment, and he turned away, using the need to push his chair back under the table as an excuse.
“I do not understand why you hide behind this hair,” she whispered as she pushed his hair away from his face. “It is much too handsome a face to be kept hidden. Why not bind it with a ribbon at the nape of your neck; it is what most men do these days. Then everyone will be able to see your face and you could maintain the length.”
Her nearness made breathing difficult, and he had to force air from his lungs to produce words to speak. “There is nothing I will not do for you,” he said. “Save one.” He pushed his long hair back over his shoulder. “Allow me to wear it like this, for it gives me comfort.”
She pulled back, hurt in her eyes. He had not meant to upset her, but somehow his request had done so.
“Might I ask why?” she said. Then she waved a hand in the air. “No, it is not for me to force you to explain. I do not wish to interfere.” She went to turn, but he reached and caught her arm.
“Like you,” he explained, “I carry much pain. However, unlike your pain, mine is of my own doing.”
She turned back to face him. “I understand,” she said in a soft voice filled with kindness. “I did not mean to pry. But thank you for sharing at least that small piece with me.” She raised herself onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Philip. Sleep well.”
And with that, she turned and walked away.
When she was gone, Philip released a frustrated sigh and walked over to the window that overlooked the garden. How he wanted to chase after her and assure himself she had not been hurt by his stubbornness. To hold her and perhaps even kiss her. However, he was not deserving of such attention; she deserved so much better.
For the last time he had loved a woman, she had died, and her blood had stained his hands. It was for the guilt of that moment that he kept his face covered. Yet, how did one explain such horrors to a woman such as Caroline Hayward?
Chapter Seven
As it so happened, Philip and Oliver convinced Caroline to join them on their fishing expedition, Oliver on the verge of begging and Philip…well, he simply asked. Caroline could not have declined if she had tried in either case.
“Here, allow me to help,” Philip said, offering his hand as her foot slipped on the wet grass.
Caroline stared at the hand for several moments, unsure whether taking his hand would be appropriate or not. However, what would have been worse, someone seeing the man aid her in climbing a steep hill or her falling flat on her backside? Therefore, she grabbed his hand, and he pulled her up to the top of the grassy hill.
They had decided to walk the short distance to a small dock that Reginald had built on the river that ran through the property. There, the water pooled, and according to Philip, they would have many fish from which to choose.
Oliver had been amazed at this. “Is that where they live, then?” he had asked, his eyes wide with innocence.
“Indeed,” Philip replied. “We should have great success in our hunt.”
“Hunt?” Oliver said with a boisterous laugh. “We are not hunting! We are fishing! And won’t we be leaving the fish in the river rather than eating them?”
Philip raised his eyebrows. “Is that not why we go fishing?”
Oliver shook his head as if Philip was the one who did not know things. “Of course not. We’re there to catch them, but we can’t take them away from their families. They’d be sad. And wouldn't you be sad if you were playing along in the water and something caught you and ate you?”
Philip laughed. “I suppose I would at that.” Then he ruffled the boy’s hair.
Caroline had watched this interaction from behind them and had been mystified—and perhaps even a bit pleased—at how compatible the two were.
“There it is!” Oliver shouted. Indeed, the small wooden dock protruded out over the pooled water, a clear expanse that reflected the sky above. “I will go and see if I can find any fish!” Without waiting for a response, the boy was rushing down the hill toward the water.
Caroline went to shout at the boy lest he fall, but Philip let out a small chuckle.
“He will be fine,” the man said. “You must realize that boys are prone to falling and hurting themselves, but they always continue on despite these mishaps.”
She gave a sigh. “You are right, of course,” she said. “I worry too much over him these days, for I fear harm will come to him. He is all I have left.”
“No harm will come to him,” Philip replied.
Not understanding why, she believed what he said. It was as if his words possessed some sort of magical power, a source of enchantment in some way. But that was a ridiculous thought!
“You two go ahead,” she said with a sigh. “I will set up here.” The cook had prepared a basket as Caroline went in search of a large blanket they could spread upon the grass so they could have a place to eat. She had also added a book to the basket so she would have something to do whilst the men set about with their fishing.
The weather was perfect with just the slightest wisps of clouds in the sky and a warmness to the air. Springtime in Devin had to be the best time of the year as far as Caroline was concerned, for it held promises of days to come.
However, it was not only the weather that had Caroline smiling. The fact of the matter was that she had never seen Oliver so filled with joy, even before the passing of his father. For the first time in his short life, the boy romped and played like so many other boys his age.
Whether or not it was the case for all boys bound for dukedom to have them kept wrapped in cotton wool, she did not know, but she had seen many a boy from the small village from whence she came gallivanting around in the fields behind the cot
tage her parents owned. She had forgotten about the happiness of children, or what should have been as such. Until now. And that smile her son wore today could only be attributed to one man. Philip Butler.
Philip was a quiet man, reserved, at least with Caroline. She was able to see snippets of who the man truly was by observing his interactions with Oliver, for he was much more animated, more playful, than he was in her company.
The fact he did not share this inner person with her did not perturb her—everyone was allowed his or her secrets—but somehow, she wished he would show such openness with her. When he shared even the smallest of details with her, the act made her feel special in some way, as if he had given her a gift of some sort.
She flicked out the blanket and set it on the ground beneath a large oak tree where she could be well-shaded and watch Oliver. Once everything was set up just as she wanted, she sat down, spread out her skirts around her, and regarded the two by the pool. Philip was instructing the boy on how to hold his wooden rod, flicking it back and forth and then having Oliver imitate. Philip was patient answering every question Oliver asked without flying into a fury as the boy’s father might have done.
Reaching into the basket, she removed a bottle of wine and poured herself a small amount in one of the glasses the cook had included, relishing the moment. Reginald never would have come out with them; he never had time for either them, not to do something as frivolous as picnicking and fishing. He never spoke words of affection to his son, only commands, and here was this man, a gardener by trade, treating Oliver as his own son.
A thought crossed her mind, and she allowed her imagination to take her to a place where Philip was her husband and a father to Oliver. He was handsome, especially so, and his heart was gentle. Yet, she could sense a strong man buried inside, a man who would protect rather than hurt her.
Each day as Oliver finished his studies, Philip would greet him, praise him for his hard work. Together, as a family, they would dine, and after Oliver was sent off to bed, Philip would wrap his arms around her. As he would hold her tightly, he would lean down and press his lips to hers. Any cares she might have, he would ease with his lips and his heart. And for the first time in her life, she would feel the love of a man.
A loud laugh brought her back to the present, and she shook her head to clear it of such ridiculous thoughts. Love was a foreign concept to her, one she would not recognize if it fell into her lap. How, then, would she imagine herself being inflicted with such an ailment?
Therefore, she turned her thoughts to the man himself and she found herself wondering if he had ever been in love before. Was it even appropriate to ask such a question of the man she had asked to be her protector?
“The boy is a fast learner,” Philip said as he came to tower over her. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Caroline laughed. “Of course not,” she replied. “Please, have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?”
He took a moment to answer before nodding. “Yes, that would be nice.”
She poured for him and then handed him the glass.
“You seemed lost in thought,” he said after thanking her for the wine.
She nodded and worried her lower lip as she watched Oliver standing like a soldier at attention at the edge of the dock. “Only the thoughts of a woman, so you would find it quite silly.”
He laughed. “There are women who are foolish, I would agree, though I can promise you that you are not one of them.”
Her cheeks burned and she took another sip of her wine to cool herself. “That is kind of you to say,” she said when she was able to speak again. “I often think of my marriage to the Duke and how it was not for love. To be honest, I wonder what love is like.”
He said nothing as he studied his wine, and she realized that she had become much too personal with this man, more than likely causing him embarrassment.
“My apologies. Please realize that I have no friends, no family other than Oliver. Reginald forbade me from seeing anyone outside of the home. In the beginning, some of my old friends came to call, but they rarely returned. The only interaction I have with people besides my servants is when we have a party, and that certainly is no place to be with friends close enough in which to confide.”
“Never apologize to me, Caroline,” he said quietly, “for you have done no wrong. As to your question, love is something one must experience to understand it.”
She nodded as she watched a bird settle onto a branch above them. “That raven is a sign of love. That is what it is.”
Philip looked up. “I do not understand. A raven is love? I thought love was restricted to doves.”
Caroline laughed. “Not at all. Allow me to explain.”
“Please do, for I am confused.”
“You see, there is a story I heard once about a man called the Duke of Ravens. Are you familiar with it?”
He shook his head.
“Well, many years ago, when I was a child, a man’s wife and daughter were kidnapped. Sadly, those who took them killed them once they received the ransom. The Duke sought after those who took the people he loved and tracked down every single one of them. They say the love he had for his family was so strong, the ravens of the sky followed him overhead throughout the forest, calling down to him as they led him to where the kidnappers hid. With their powers, he was able to avenge their deaths, thus solidifying the love he had for his wife.” She let out a sigh and finished the remaining wine in her glass. “Love so strong that even the animals helped him seek his revenge.”
“Quite the story,” Philip said with a chuckle. “Have you met this man?”
“No. From what I have heard, he returned to his estate and has never left again. To this day, he remains there, heartbroken and alone, with only the ravens to visit him and console him. It is beautiful, do you not believe so?”
Philip handed the glass to her and stood. “It is a lovely tale; although, I must admit it does sound a bit farfetched. Perhaps it is the meaning of the story that keeps the story alive rather than it being truth, much like tales of fairies and giants.” With that, he walked away.
Caroline was unsure what to think of his assessment of a story she held dear to her. Although the man might have been right that it was just a folktale meant to encourage, she still found it beautiful. Furthermore, it gave her hope that such men existed, that not all men were driven by greed or lust but rather by love.
Guilt plagued her for the thoughts of Philip she had experienced, so she poured herself another glass of wine and opened her book to lose herself into a realm of make-believe.
***
“I must say, Your Grace, your gown is beautiful.” Margaret, Caroline’s lady’s maid, was the only thing besides Oliver that Reginald had unwittingly gotten right. If he ever learned how complimentary the woman was, he would have seen her replaced as soon as possible by another less agreeable servant, or so thought Caroline.
“Thank you,” Caroline said, giving the woman a smile. “It is one of the new ones I ordered last month.”
The woman took a pin and added to her coiffure. “Well, it is very becoming on you, if I may say so.”
Caroline blushed. Accepting compliments had never been easy, but after what she had endured the past five years made doing so that much more difficult.
“Will you be having a guest tonight?” Margaret asked. The older woman was keen to nose about in other’s business, and Caroline found it endearing. She was not loose of tongue like most women, therefore making speaking with her much easier.
“Philip will be dining with us,” she replied. “Oliver has taken a liking to him.”
Margaret set another pin. “He’s a nice man, and if I were ten years younger, I believe I’d never stop seeking his attentions.” Then she gasped. “I’m sorry for speaking that way! I don’t know what came over me.”
Caroline laughed. “You are fine. He is a handsome man; I have taken notice of that.”
“Oh, my, yes. Handsom
e he is for sure.”
“I also find I enjoy his company, but I fear he finds me quite boring.”
Margaret clicked her tongue. “Nonsense. I don’t believe it. No one would be able to find you boring.”
“I have tried to induce conversation with him during the various activities we have done together—not to win his affections, of course.”
“Of course,” Margaret echoed, although she did not seem convinced.
“I would simply like him to reveal more about himself. He is a quiet man.”
“That he is,” Margaret agreed. “Some men can’t seem to refrain from talking too much and others are brooders. He’s somewhere in between, from what I’ve gathered. He seems to choose his words wisely.” She set the last pin and took a step back to assess her handiwork. “There. What do you think?”
Caroline turned this way and that as she checked her reflection in the mirror. “Yes, your work is perfect, as usual.” She turned to face her maid. “Margaret, if you were to want to learn more about a man, what would you do to get him to open up more?”
The woman sighed. “I don’t rightly know,” she said. Then she shrugged. “I suppose loads of drink would loosen a stiff tongue.”
Caroline gasped. “I cannot do that!”
“He’s your protector, isn’t he?”
Caroline nodded.
“Then he has to travel wherever you go, am I right?”
With another nod, Caroline replied, “You are.”
“Then I suggest you go on holiday.”
“Holiday,” Caroline mumbled. “Yes, that is a good idea.”
“To be honest, Your Grace, you haven’t really left this estate in years. It would do you good to get out to see and experience new things.”
Caroline pondered the woman’s words. She had estates all over the country, most she had never visited. It was true that she had been cooped up in the house since Reginald’s passing, and even before that, she had only been allowed to leave when he escorted her to a party or dinner. Time away would be good for her and Oliver. Plus, it would give her time with Philip, away from prying eyes.
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