by Abby Ayles
He ignored the strange looks from his staff, including Thomas who could not hide his awe, as he made his way to the stables.
When he arrived, Roy was there to welcome him.
The groom practically staggered in shock as he took in his master’s attire, but he soon recovered, or perhaps he simply managed to hide it well.
Stephen knew it could not be helped. He had refused to ride, either carriage or horse, in those three years. It was only right they should be so taken aback.
In truth, he wasn’t certain he remembered how to ride. He only hoped he would not embarrass his lineage by falling off the horse.
“Your Grace!” Roy greeted, dipping into a bow.
“Roy … saddle Eleazar. I am joining Lady Judith.”
Roy blinked repeatedly. “Your Grace?” he asked.
“Do I need to repeat myself, Roy? Or did you hear me the first time? I believe I was quite clear.”
Roy swallowed hard as his face turned red. When he tried to speak, he ended up stuttering. Eventually, he shut his mouth and drew in a deep breath.
“Your Grace, I heard every word. Forgive my impertinence. I shall have Eleazar saddled at once.”
Roy disappeared into the stable, reappearing with the saddled stallion a few minutes later.
Stephen’s heart swelled as he beheld his beloved horse. He had had Eleazar since he was a foal, a gift from his father on his eleventh birthday.
They had grown up together, man and horse, as comrades.
He felt his eyes sting as he drew closer to his horse. He had not imagined that their reunion would be such an emotional moment for him.
The horse stared at him in recognition, yet Stephen could see the grudge. It was one he knew he would have to live the rest of his life atoning for.
Slowly, he reached out, touching the stallion with his fingers, before placing his palm against its beautiful body.
Eleazar neighed, and Stephen understood.
“I know. I’m sorry. Forgive me. I did not mean to abandon you.”
Eleazar neighed again, and Stephen sighed.
“I can make no promises. Not now, Eleazar, but I will try. For you. I shall visit often.”
This time, Eleazar snickered softly, nuzzling Stephen with profound fondness.
He didn’t realize that he smiled as he rubbed his face against his old friend’s.
“I know. I have missed you too.”
They remained that way for a sweet moment, before Stephen remembered they had an audience. Mortified, he pulled away and cleared his throat.
“Is he healthy?”
Roy nodded. “And strong as ever. He has sired four foals in these past years. They’re all doing well. He will give you no trouble. He roams the fields daily when the weather allows. His limbs are ever ready to run.”
Stephen was happy to hear this.
Giving a curt nod, he said simply, “Thank you, Roy. You have done well.”
Saying nothing more, he mounted Eleazar easily, holding on to his reins as he sat atop.
He heaved a sigh of relief at that small success. Hoping he’d remember how to ride as well, he leaned in to Eleazar and whispered.
“Alright, boy. Keep us steady. Follow Enora.”
Eleazar needed no further command. He launched into a gallop, and soon, they were riding, farther away from the stables and closer to the woman who had left a permanent mark on his life.
Chapter 18
Eleazar led him easily.
As they rode, Stephen felt his fears and apprehension begin to slip away. Instead, he began to feel a new kind of strength.
He could feel Eleazar’s limbs move powerfully beneath him, and he thought back to the days when they moved as one, going almost everywhere together.
Countless times, they had roamed these fields, Nordame, and all of Sawbrook.
He had loved riding so much; it had been his favorite activity. It was a pity how much of himself he had given, how much he had let himself lose.
He was thankful to Lady Judith. For giving him the courage to ride again, to feel the wind against his face, to hear the birds chirp as they flew above his head. To see his fields in all their beauty and glory, to smell the freshness of air.
Who would have thought that it would come to this; that rainy morning when he had glimpsed two lost-looking women at his gate, seeking shelter?
Stephen was soon pulled from his thoughts, as Eleazar took a turn, taking them off the fields and into the woods.
In no time, he saw them; Lady Judith and Enora. They had stopped by the brook that ran through his land.
Lady Judith had tied the mare to a tree, and she was sitting beneath it.
The tree was familiar, awfully so. It had been Abigail’s favorite tree in Dunham. This had been her favorite place.
Fury fanned inside of him, and it took all his strength to keep himself from snapping as Eleazar came to a stop.
She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t acknowledge his presence. She seemed to be quite taken by the sight that lay around her. He could scarcely blame her; it was beautiful indeed.
Yet, she did not belong there.
Weeks ago, she had come into his home. Slowly, she had crept into his heart. Only the day before, she had entered his ballroom and now, she was…
It would appear that Lady Judith had a habit of taking things that belonged to another woman, yet he did not know how to feel about it.
He said nothing until he had dismounted and drawn closer to her. It was only then that he spoke.
“You shouldn’t ride alone, Lady Judith. I thought I made that clear the last time.”
As those words left his lips, he winced. He was doing it again; the very thing he had apologized for only days ago.
She turned to him then, eyes defiant. “I am not alone now, am I?”
His anger was suddenly forgotten. He had offended her yet again, and he must make amends.
“I suppose not,” he answered. He paused before continuing. “I have done it again, have I not? Displeased you.”
She seemed to ponder her response for a moment. Eventually, she sighed, shaking her head.
“I have no right to be displeased, Your Grace. It is your home, after all. I am to abide by your rules. I just wish you would not speak to me so … harshly. It makes things even more … confusing.”
His eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“Well, I do not know exactly what to think of you, or expect from you. One moment you are cold, and dare I say, untoward. Another, you are warm and kind, saying all the right words. Whatever am I to do with you?”
She had her back turned to him, and he wished he could see her face as she spoke, watch the emotions that would flash in her eyes, and convince himself that he was not the only fool here.
The crack he heard in her voice, the words she left unsaid, all pointed to the fact that he was not alone in his confusion; that she might also have feelings for him.
Could he dare hope? How could he not?
Heaving a sigh, he lowered himself to sit near her.
“You are right to be wary, my lady. I am indeed a difficult man, very much so.”
“Why is that, Your Grace?” she asked, barely letting him finish.
Her question took him aback. He had not been expecting it, especially not so suddenly.
She looked at him then, and he became lost in her eyes before he could guard himself against their power.
Here, with the trees surrounding them, those green eyes shone brightly. They appeared to be at one with nature.
It was beyond beautiful; it was captivating.
“Why?” he asked, almost forgetting what they had been talking about.
She nodded. “Why are you a difficult man, Your Grace? What happened to make it so? I know it is something you do not like to talk about, but was it losing her? Your wife?”
His eyes widened, and he snapped out of his reverie. What did she know about Abigail? How much had she been told? Who had betrayed him
so?
“Who told you?” His voice was gruff, laden with emotions.
She shook her head. “I surmised it. There was something awfully odd about this place when I arrived. Its master was, and remains, more the mystery. Even though someone had gone to great lengths to hide it, I could see traces that a woman had lived here, but no more. The sadness that clung to the hallways was enough to tell me that Dunham mourned. It could not be your mother, so it had to be your wife.”
“Is that all you were able to surmise? You know nothing of what happened?”
She shook her head again. “Not a thing. I supposed it must have been a terrible incident to leave such … sorrow and pain behind. I am sorry.”
There was honesty in her voice. Her words were heartfelt, that much he could tell.
He closed his eyes, letting himself receive the comfort she offered. Should he tell her? Of all that had happened? Or just a little?
“You do not have to be sorry, my lady. You did not cause any of this.”
“Still … your deep pain is so evident. You must have loved her very much.”
Stephen bobbed his head. He would not deny it.
“With all of my heart and soul. I would have given my life in her stead if I could.”
“What was she like?” Lady Judith asked, her soft voice soothing his soul.
“Like spring. The first rain, the first bloom, happy, charming. Once upon a time, there was a man who had watched his parents grow old in love, dying only days apart, for neither could be without the other for too long. He had only ever wanted love like that, so pure, so true. All his life, he dreamed of the day he would find it. Then one day, he did. At the market, in a bookshop. She was only a lowly maiden but, by God, she was the fairest he had ever seen.”
It had been love at first sight for Stephen.
“He knew right away that he had found what he had searched for all those years. It mattered not that society would disapprove, that he was a duke and she was no more than a scholar’s daughter. He wooed her, he courted her, and, when she came to love him in return, he had married her, and she became his new family.”
He had never been so happy, never been so at peace. For two years, they lived as husband and wife.
“It was clear even to the blind that the love they shared was profound. They enjoyed this love, and the joy that came with it, for a while. Then, they learned their family was going to grow bigger. She was with child, you see, his heir.”
He heard Lady Judith gasp, but he did not stop.
“Their lives could only get better, or so they thought. Alas, fate had other plans. One cruel winter’s day, they were snatched away from him by the cold hands of death in the most despairing way. The wife he loved, and the child he never could hold in his arms, for it was never born. He lived, but parts of him died with them, and they remained buried.”
Until recently…
Opening his eyes, he turned to Lady Judith. His heart skipped when he saw tears falling from hers.
“Are those … for me?” he asked, reaching out to gently touch her face. When he felt the wetness against his fingertips, his awe increased.
She hurriedly wiped away the tears, leaving her cheeks filled with crimson.
She forced a small laugh. It was a sound he knew he would cherish in his heart for the rest of his days.
“Something must have flown into my eyes. Pay me no heed. Thank you for the story. It was such a sad tale.”
“That it is. Have you ever lost anyone dear to you, my lady?”
She shook her head. “I have only ever lost one person, Mr. Giraud, our coachman. I hardly knew him, yet my heart grieves still for him. Especially as I cannot rid myself of the guilt that I brought his death upon him.”
Stephen nodded. Perhaps she did not feel his kind of pain but, in a way, she understood.
“I cannot imagine how much harder it would be, if it were someone I loved so greatly. Losing a dear one is such a terrible thing. Even now, my heart goes out to Mr. Giraud’s family, and to you. How long has it been?”
“Three years,” he answered easily. “It might as well have been only a day,” he added in a whisper, but she heard him anyway.
She reached for his hands and took them in hers.
A shudder rippled through his spine at the contact, but he hid it well, giving nothing away.
“You have suffered so much, and I do not have the power to make any promises I can keep. Nevertheless, I pray for you now and always, that your pain will ease and that you will laugh again … and truly live again.”
Her words were like a healing salve for his broken soul.
“Lady Judith, you are far too kind. Thank you, really.”
Her lips spread in a small smile. It warmed his heart no end.
“Think nothing of it. It is the least I can do.”
He almost smiled.
If only she knew. If only.
Chapter 19
Things changed between Stephen and Judith after that day by the brook.
Their relationship grew into something closer. Neither of them tried to address it, but they found themselves spending more and more time with each other.
Having Stephen at dinner became something to look forward to. Then, there were the rides they took out into the fields, and the walks around the castle.
Judith knew people were beginning to whisper but it was nothing malicious. If anything, they were hopeful whispers.
Whatever it was they hoped for, she did not concern herself with.
She knew she was treading a dangerous path, and she could no longer be certain that she had not tripped and had already begun to fall.
Sometimes, she wondered if Amy was indeed correct; if the duke might care for her, as she did for him…
Amy had advised that it would be wise to speak to the duke about it. But Judith could not bring herself to do so. The thought of it mortified her. So, she simply took each day as it came, grateful for every wonderful moment by his side.
He had begun to smile. The first time she had seen him smile, it had become quite clear to her that he had occupied a place in her heart; a very special place.
It had been as though she had suddenly sprouted wings and was soaring in the air. That was how his happiness made her feel; as though it were hers.
She found herself looking forward to the times when she could finally draw out his laughter. She hoped she would accomplish it before she had to leave.
Leaving. It was something she tried not to think of. Yet, on some days, the thought plagued her mind, refusing to leave her in peace.
It was quite amusing to realize she was more reluctant to leave Dunham than she was eager to return to the family she had known all her life.
Still, the time would come, that was certain. And when it did, she would have to say her goodbyes.
It was such thoughts that lay heavily on her heart one quiet afternoon. She decided to bury herself in books to keep them away.
She visited the library, distracting her mind with the tales of others, content to be by herself.
Sometimes, she found her mind straying to thoughts of him, but she pulled it back, forcing herself to dig deeper into the words in the book.
Alas, it appeared the universe had other plans, for it was not long after she had managed to achieve that feat, that the library doors opened, and the duke entered.
At first, she worried that he would see her, but she soon realized she had no cause for concern.
She was on the second floor and, unless he looked up, he would remain completely oblivious of her presence.
Giving up on trying to avoid whatever concerned him, she fed her eyes with his sight.
Everything about him was regal. He exuded poise and grace. He was simply magnificent.
He walked like a man who owned the world, tall and proud. Yet, as she had come to learn in the past days, he had a heart so tender, so large, so giving.
It was what endeared him to her even more.
Taking great care to be quiet, she watched him walk around the library. She had always been curious about what kind of books he read.
He soon stopped at the shelf that held books on science.