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Lex descended the stairs blindly, images of his father’s bloody body hurtling through his mind. By the time he reached the entrance hall he was breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way from the dining room, so he slapped a hand on the newel post to steady himself. His other hand he curled into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. As the pain increased, the images melted away—a surreptitious trick he’d learned at Harrow.
His vision finally cleared. The footman stationed by the front door studied the vase of flowers nearby, a new one that had replaced the one Lex destroyed the night before. But Henry would have to wait another day. Lex needed to be alone.
“I’m ready, sir!”
Lex turned. The boy bounded down the stairs—well, as much as anyone could bound when encumbered by a hoop, a fishing pole, a butterfly net, a ball, and was that...? Yes, a cricket bat.
Henry stared up at him with blinking brown eyes, so Lex cleared his throat. “Indeed you are, but—”
“Octavius?!”
Eleanor came rushing down the stairs, her gaze skittering from him to Henry and back again, and that was fear in her eyes. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. Not for herself and not for their child. Eleanor had always stood up to him, withstood his anger and general beastliness. He wanted her to feel she could—and he didn’t want to apologize to either of them later for deserting Henry and their appointment now. He wanted to do better.
He looked down at Henry’s beaming face. “May I help you carry something, Colonel?”
The boy handed over the bat and the fishing pole with the care usually shown for the Crown Jewels. As Lex tucked them beneath his arm, Eleanor made a small sound that was either distress or hope. Either way, it would be best to reassure her.
“We’ll have a grand time, won’t we, Colonel?”
Henry nodded eagerly.
This was easier than Lex had thought. Just saying the words made the idea seem possible. They could have a grand time. But...
“We must take refreshments,” he declared.
“Cake!” Henry suggested.
A boy after his own stomach.
Lex called the footman and sent him off to the kitchen. When he turned back, Eleanor was combing Henry’s hair with her fingers, and over that mop she looked a question at him. With just the slightest hesitation, he nodded.
Just then, Henry dropped his ball. When he chased it across the marbled floor, Eleanor stepped closer, twisting her fingers together.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she said. “I didn’t know...”
Of course she didn’t. How could she have?
“I do not fault you for asking. The memories are painful. I live with them all the time, though.”
“Oh, Octavius.” She settled her hand on his coat sleeve. “May we speak more of this later?”
“You will talk me into an early grave, Eleanor.”
She smiled up at him, kindly, sweetly, her eyes sparkling green in the sunlight that shone through the transom window. “See? You can be humorous when you want to.”
He had to kiss her.
She must have felt the same, for she rose up on tiptoes as he lowered his head. Their lips met in the middle. Lex cupped his hand around the nape of her neck, and the kiss began as sweetly as those he’d given her the night before, but just as things turned more sensual, he remembered Henry. With reluctance he retreated, slowly, regretfully, savoring every last second.
“I need to kiss Mama goodbye too,” the boy said, having retrieved his ball.
Eleanor smiled. Without a hint of awkwardness, she bent down and pecked him on the cheek. “You must tell me all about the park when you return.” She gave him one more kiss on the forehead. “Mind your father, Henry.”
Father? The word startled Lex. He could no longer deny being Henry’s sire, but the spoken title seemed like a bald-faced lie. Having known the child for just a week, he didn’t feel like Henry’s father. He wasn’t even certain he was capable of the role, given his experiences.
“Sir?”
And then there was that. Not even Henry saw Lex as his father. Not that he should, but it further complicated the matter.
Time to stop thinking. “Right. Let’s be off.”
The footman handed over refreshments tied up in a napkin. Both Henry and Lex nodded to Eleanor, who gave them a reassuring smile, and then the pair marched out the door. Well, to be more accurate, Henry marched, knees high, while Lex stuck to his more usual style of walking.
The sun shone brightly, but the air had a chill. Lex had never minded living on the corner across from Hyde Park; the almost constant noise and busyness distracted him from too much thinking. Now, to their left, carts, wagons, and hackneys jammed Park Lane.
“I can’t wait! What should we do first? Fishing? No. Butterflies, maybe?” The child was bouncing on the balls of his feet, but still he managed to hold on to his possessions as they walked.
“I don’t—”
“There’s the gate!” Without warning, Henry dashed off into traffic.
Lex’s heart dropped into his stomach. A massive draught horse bore down upon the boy, and Henry had just tripped over the handle of the butterfly net and landed with a thud, raising a small cloud of dust.
In several quick strides, Lex reached his son and snatched him up against his chest. The horse and its cart careered past without even slowing down. After a moment, Lex’s legs obeyed his brain and he continued onward. He set Henry down across the lane, outside the Cumberland Gate. Crouching down, he tried to slow his breathing and heartbeat.
“Are you hurt?”
Tears streaked the dirt on Henry’s face. He shook his head no.
Thank God. Eleanor would do Lex bodily harm if he brought the boy back in less than perfect health. “Then why are you crying?”
The boy sniffed and shrugged.
Lex sighed. He laid down everything he was holding and took out his handkerchief. Grabbing the child’s chin with one hand, he mopped up the tears and the dirt with the other. Then he said, “You know better than to run into the street, but perhaps you were too caught up and couldn’t control your body. Is that it?”
It was exactly how Lex had felt last night.
“I wanted to get to the park. We have so much to do.”
Lex shook his head as the boy’s tears threatened a return. “We have all day, Colonel. We can stay as long as you like.”
But, that hadn’t been his original plan. There was work to do at the arsenal.
Henry blinked, his wet eyelashes sticking together. “Truly?”
“Yes,” Lex found himself saying. He’d have to send word to Robson, but he’d not get much work done anyhow, not with memories of last night’s outburst and the problem of Portia crowding his mind. And then there was Eleanor, the wife who hadn’t cuckolded him. The wife who apparently knew just what to say when faced with ugly truths.
A smile broke on the boy’s face: his mother’s saucy one. Then Henry’s glance slid to the beckoning gate. “May we go in?”
“Certainly,” Lex said.
He grabbed the bat, pole, and napkin, and stood, reflecting as he stared at the top of his son’s head. He’d been patient with the child, not raising his voice at all when Henry dashed into the street. Eleanor would be proud. And surprised. Probably surprised first. As surprised as Lex himself.
“You’ve spent all your life in the country. Do you miss it so much?” he found himself asking. “Is that why you’re so eager to come here?”
Henry led the way through the gate and into the park. “Yes, sir. I like playing with my soldiers, but at Mayne Castle I can do that and play outside whenever I want.”
“Of course,” Lex said solemnly. He’d wanted nothing more than to return to the castle after his father’s death, but his guardian—an older cousin—had pursued other plans that involved the cousin residing in Somerset with Portia and Lex being shuffled off to Harrow. At the end of term and holidays he’d been allowed to return here, to the empty—except for servants—house on Hereford Street. During those stays he’d learned to find solace in Hyde Park, and before Eleanor arrived, Lex visited at least once a day to enjoy the solitude and the greenery.
Perhaps one good thing had come out of sending Eleanor away: Henry had lived a fine life in the country.
“Ohhhh!” Henry’s eyes were huge as sixpence. “That’s a nice lawn. We must play cricket.”
The grass would make a decent cricket field, Lex allowed. Along the edge, near the footpath, a nursemaid watched over two children, a boy and a girl. Nearer the gate, two other boys played with hoops and sticks while their nurses conversed, but they were all far enough to be safe from a batted ball.
“Let’s have a go, then.”
Lex held up the bat to offer it over, but then he took a closer look at the carved willow wood. “I used to have a bat much like this, though mine had a different handle. Where did you get it?”
“Mr. Carter made it for me.”
“Tom Carter? The one who lives in the cottage by the river?”
Henry nodded and reached for the bat. “He gave it to me on my birthday last year. He said five was just the right age.”
A little reluctantly, Lex handed it over. “Mr. Carter made me a bat, too, when I was younger.”
“You know Mr. Carter? With the beard?”
“I do.” Lex smiled in remembrance. “Does he give you a lemon drop whenever you visit?”
“Yes! It makes my cheeks go like this.”
Henry sucked in his cheeks, his eyes crossing, and Lex couldn’t stop a chuckle from slipping out even as he realized he and the child shared a history. That was how it should be for an earl and his son, but...
Henry held up the ball. “Can you bowl for me?”
“Certainly.”
Lex took the ball and paced off fifteen yards. He and Henry established a rather wobbly shrub as one wicket and the butterfly net twisted into the soft ground as the other, then Henry took up his batting stance. His face, eyes scrunched and jaw clenched in concentration, nearly made Lex laugh again.
Sports, however, were serious. One didn’t laugh at the competition.
Lex bowled underhand. Henry swung. Both watched the ball sail into the outfield.
Henry took off running, dashing between the wickets. Lex would have been content to watch that, but another child broke away from his nursemaid as the ball plopped onto the grass, scooped it up and threw it back.
After Henry finally stopped celebrating—he’d scored two runs!—and after a minute of earnest whispering with Lex to get his approval, the boy took off across the lawn to invite the other children to play. Lex didn’t mind, for cricket wasn’t much fun with just two players. He continued to bowl, while Henry and the others took turns at batting and fielding, making do with only one bat.
Eventually, the others were called away. Seemingly delighted, Henry collapsed on the ground and grinned up at the sky. “That was a thumping good time!”
It had been, Lex admitted. He peeked at his watch. And an hour had passed. He’d entertained the boy for an hour and, most importantly, hadn’t lost him or injured him. “Shall we walk down to the Serpentine?”
The youth rose, dusting off his backside. “Yes, let’s. Might we have some cake too? Cricket makes me hungry.”
The two of them gathered Henry’s things and meandered down toward the river.
“Where is the bat Mr. Carter made for you?” Henry asked. “It would be nice to have two bats next time.”
Next time? Would there be a next time? Should there be? He hadn’t traumatized the boy yet, but was it just a matter of time? He himself had adored his father for twelve years and then... Well, wouldn’t Henry be better off forgetting him, the man he called “sir,” after Lex finally broke? Lex lived every day with the pain of losing his father. He didn’t want his own unpredictability and ultimately maybe even his collapse to ruin Henry’s life.
Eleanor would help him figure this out. She was the boy’s mother, and she apparently always knew the sensible thing to do. Though, the sensible thing might just be to lock Lex away forever.
Henry tugged on his sleeve. “Sir? Do you know where your cricket bat is?”
Lex shook his head, clearing his cloudy brain. The child just wanted to know about the bat, not about the future of their relationship, such as it was. He blew out a breath, suddenly glad Eleanor wasn’t here to see what a nodcock he was, and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I think it’s probably at Mayne Castle. I don’t recall ever playing cricket while I lived in Town.”
“That’s all right,” Henry broke into a gallop.
At last they reached the edge of the river. Two or three people were fishing from the other side, but mostly this area of the park was deserted. Lex found an empty bench and settled Henry on it. They unwrapped the napkin of food and found two slices of seedcake, a couple of pieces of bread, and a wedge of cheese. Henry advised they should save the bread and cheese for later because, after all, fishing and catching butterflies and rolling hoops made one just as hungry as cricket.
Lex watched the boy, recognizing some of Eleanor in the child: his practicality, the way he tipped his head to study something, his ready smile.
“Do you want to see how fast I can roll my hoop?”
This child was brilliant at keeping Lex from brooding overlong. Living in the present, being unaware of the past—or, in Lex’s case, ignoring the past—might just be the answer to everything.
“I do, Henry. I’ll wager you are one of the fastest hoop-rollers in all of Mayfair.”
“I probably am.” With that show of confidence, the boy grabbed his hoop, found a stick, and set off across the grass.
Lex was watching him go faster and faster when the shadow of a man fell beside him.
“It is a pleasure to see you smile.”
Mr. Robson. Lex couldn’t hold that smile, not with memories of last night suddenly surfacing; the American should be putting distance between them at this point. But he did tip his hat and say, “Good morning, sir.”
“Eleanor told me I could find you here with your son. I do not mean to intrude, but I wanted to see how you fare.”
“I...I believe I may have drunk too much last evening. I beg your forgiveness for any embarrassment I may have caused you and your wife.”
“I don’t think I saw you drink more than one glass of wine.” Robson clapped a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “I do not mean to say you owe me an explanation, but I cannot abide untruths.”
Lex turned and found the older man staring at Henry running pell-mell across the lawn. Henry, his supposedly sick boy. Damnation. The American must think him the greatest liar. He owed Robson so much more.
He gestured. “Henry. My son. He’s a healthy child, hardly ever sick.” He cleared his throat. “Eleanor and I...usually live apart by mutual agreement, but we—I—don’t wish to make our circumstances known, so I put it about—to you and to others—that Henry was ill, requiring Eleanor to live in the country. When I asked her to London to entertain you and Mrs. Robson, I did not expect her to bring the child.”
“Hmm.”
That one sound conveyed a wealth of disappointment, and Lex’s stomach soured, but he knew he had to say more. At least Robson hadn’t cut him off like Eleanor. If his apologies continued to pile up inside him, they might just choke him to death.
“I apologize for lying to you about Henry’s health. Though my reasons made sense in my head, it was an unacceptable thing to do.” He held his breath, waiting to hear if Robson would forgive him or take this opportunity to quit the arsenal and remove himself and his wife from Lex’s disgraceful sphere.
Robson’s wise blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and he nodded once. “I’ve never seen the point in refusing an apology sincerely given. Apology accepted. I knew something was odd, but still, you and Eleanor seem well-suited. I’m surprised you haven’t been able to make a go of it.”
“I...” Lex scrubbed a hand over his face, breathing easier now. Robson hadn’t spurned him.
But, as to marriage to Eleanor... It no longer seemed like a torturous punishment, and yet the way forward stretched for miles across a vast desert with obstacles like Portia, Drummond, Lex’s parents, Henry, and Lex’s madness all strewn across the sand.
“I’ve said more than I intended.” Robson hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. “I thank you for your sincerity and will leave it at that.” After a spell of silence, however, he sighed. “I can’t quite leave it at that. I want you to know that my ears are at your disposal if you should need to talk, though I gather discussion isn’t a favorite pastime of yours.”
“Explain that to Eleanor, would you?”
Robson laughed.
Lex took the opportunity to formulate the right words and continue. “I appreciate your concern, and I thank you for taking in Portia. That is no small kindness, considering how overset she must be.”
“Justine is quite willing to offer her succor. She’s been lost with only me to cluck over. Soon I will be all but forgotten, though, as Andrew returns in a few days.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Lex said, with true sentiment. About damn time. “Will the three of you come to dine with us then?”
“We would like nothing better.” Robson gestured toward Henry. “Now, let me leave you to your son. Shall we resume work at the arsenal in a couple of days?”
Lex nodded. “Will you convey my regards to Portia? I...” He had no idea how to proceed with his sister, but since she refused to come home, he at least had time to figure something out. With Eleanor’s help.
Robson smiled and offered a hand. “I will tell her of your concern and that you are eager to speak with her at her convenience.”
“That sounds perfect, thank you.”
The two men shook hands, and Robson strolled off. Looking up, Lex saw that Henry had rolled his hoop halfway across the green, so he turned up the path to meet the boy on the other side. A few white clouds now dotted the sky, intermittently hiding the sun.
“You are indeed very fast,” he said when Henry ran up. “What now? Catching butterflies?”
“No, thank you. May we throw the ball to each other instead?”
“Whatever you wish.”
They piled their extraneous belongings near a thick oak. At first they simply tossed the ball back and forth. Eventually, though, Lex lofted the ball higher and higher. Henry would run around beneath it in circles until stopping at the last second to catch it. Then he would fall onto the grass in a heap of giggles. At last the boy forgot about the ball altogether and simply spread his arms wide and spun in a circle until he was too dizzy to stand, recovering his breath and equilibrium afterward and running over to Lex with his hands out.
“Try it, sir! It’s the best feeling.”
Lex shook his head. He didn’t need to feel any more out of control than he already was. “I don’t think—”
Henry grabbed his hands and tugged.
Lex wasn’t obligated to move; the little whelp couldn’t weigh more than three stone. The sunshine and the boy’s merry smile, however, overwhelmed his better judgment. He and Henry twirled around, slowly at first, hands still clasped. As the air whizzed by his ears and the park’s greenery blurred, transporting him away from that time, that place, Lex began to turn faster and faster.
Henry ran to keep up. When he no longer could, his feet flew off the ground. Lex tightened his grip on the child’s arms as he soared through the air. Henry screamed, but it was a happy scream. Round and round they two went until Lex’s head swam with nothing but giddy, light sparks. When he stumbled, he instinctively pulled Henry to his chest. They fell to the ground with Lex twisting so the child landed on top of him.
They were both huffing and puffing, but Henry managed to say, “I flew! Just like a bird. Or an owl.” He pushed himself into a sitting position on Lex’s chest and widened his already big brown eyes, blinking just like one. In between gasps, Lex laughed. Out loud. Which almost made him choke.
Henry started pounding on his chest. “Are you all right, sir?”
Lex nodded and concentrated on breathing for the moment. His problems—Portia, Drummond—were still in the back of his mind, but he had to admit that he didn’t regret the exhilarating ride. Life wasn’t all doom and gloom. Just ask Henry.
“That was wonderful, Colonel. Maybe next time I can do the flying and you can do the falling.”
Giggling, the boy stood. Lex sat up. His brain still felt light and airy, so he proceeded no further.
Henry retrieved their napkin of refreshments and sat beside him, legs crossed. “Would you like some cheese?”
Sustenance wouldn’t be a bad idea, so they ate and watched more and more people enter the park: ladies on horseback heading toward Rotten Row, groups of young men chatting and gesticulating, merchantmen hurrying across the paths.
“What would you like to do now?” Lex asked. He felt more himself—which wasn’t necessarily good. However, Henry would keep him occupied.
“I want to go home.”
“You do?” The question came out automatically, but Lex focused on the boy’s words. Henry considered that townhouse his home? Even Lex didn’t ever call it that. Not that house.
Henry nodded. “I’ve had a grand time, sir, but I know you have work to do. Your estates and the arsenal. And Mama surely misses me.”
Lex wasn’t disappointed. Not really. But he’d expected to have to persuade Henry to end their adventure.
“Yes, but we don’t—” He broke off when he noticed the boy’s drooping eyes. The lad was tired and wouldn’t admit it; doing so would break the code of childhood—that much, Lex remembered. He jumped up and reached a hand out. “Let’s go then.”