In the middle of the morning two days later, Faith sat at the desk in the small salon adjoining her bedchamber, making notes on the dossiers of prospective tutors Englemere had forwarded her. It was rather difficult to imagine, from sterile lists of academic backgrounds and previous references, which candidate might be most amenable to the freer, more egalitarian system of education she wanted for her sons, particularly Edward. She would have appreciated Davie’s help in narrowing the field of those to summon for interviews.
Before he’d quickly masked the expression, he’d seemed—offended, that she’d turn down his offer. Another iniquity to lay at the feet of her worthless brother-in-law, she thought, scowling. Since she never knew when or whether Lord Randall would appear, she didn’t dare invite Davie to call. The very idea that he might meet Randall, and what Randall might say to him if they did, made her feel queasy.
She made a final note and assembled the dossiers into a neat stack, then wearily dusted off her hands. She’d barely slept lately, worried that she’d hear his footstep in the hallway, the rattle of the door she kept securely locked, with a chair pushed up against it for extra measure.
As far as she could tell, however, her unpredictable brother-in-law had once again taken an extended leave from the house. Though the Dowager had complained last night that he’d not shown up to escort them to the rout given by one of her closest friends, an event she’d most particularly informed Randall she’d wanted him to attend with them, Faith was relieved by his absence and could only hope it would continue.
As the mantel clock bonged the hour, her spirits rose. Finally it was time to collect her sons for their trip to the Park...where she would see Davie again. Impressed by her old friend during their trip to visit her sister, her boys were almost as excited to have his company again as she was.
After a quick stop to gather up her pelisse and gloves, Faith went to the nursery, to find the boys eager and ready. They trooped to the waiting carriage in an excited cascade of voices, and as soon as the vehicle started on its way, began assaulting her with a volley of questions.
‘One at a time!’ she protested, laughing.
‘Mr Smith said he would take us riding again. Is he bringing ponies, Mama?’ Edward asked.
‘No, we’re to walk today.’ As his eager expression faded, she added quickly, ‘There will be a pond, with ducks. Cook made me a packet of breadcrumbs to feed them.’
‘Will there be cows, too, Mama?’ Matthew asked.
‘No cows—and no fresh milk. Although I imagine we might find some meat pasties somewhere, before we venture home again,’ she added, chuckling at his whoop of enthusiasm anticipating that treat.
‘There are trees in the park, aren’t there?’ Colin asked. ‘Can we climb some?’
Anger and sadness coursed through her, that though her children had been in London for years, apparently their tutor had not been moved to take them beyond their own back garden.
‘Yes, there are trees, but no climbing today. There are also long gravel paths, and you may have a footrace. We’re passing Green Park now; we’ll be entering the park gates soon.’
At that, the boys crowded the window, eager to inspect this new playground. As the carriage passed under the arches at Hyde Park Corner to enter the grounds themselves, Faith scanned the paths for Davie.
The vehicle slowed, beginning a circuit down the carriage row, then stopped altogether. Leaning out over her sons’ heads, Faith spied Davie, who’d waved down the carriage, and her heart leapt.
Fatigue, the burden of responsibility she felt to make the right choices about her sons’ tutor and education, her worries over the Dowager’s interference, and the looming danger posed by Lord Randall—all faded away, washed from her mind by a rush of joy and anticipation at being able to spend the morning with the men who brought light and happiness into her life—her sons, and Davie.
What a blessing it would be, to have Davie’s kind, clever and alluring company every day, the wistful thought occurred. Sighing, she banished it; she would treasure today and not repine that she would not be able to experience such treats more often. All too soon, Davie’s responsibilities—and probably boredom with the company of a matron of no particular talents and her three rambunctious sons—would put an end to such adventures.
She intended to suck every iota of joy out of the ones she managed to grab.
As he approached, the footman handed her down and the boys tumbled out of the coach and ran to meet him. With affection and pride, she watched Edward hold up a hand to halt his brothers before they reached Davie, make him a proper bow, and wave his brothers to copy that behaviour.
Not to be restrained any longer, Matthew tugged at Davie’s sleeve. ‘Mama said we would only walk today, but might there be ponies later?’
‘We are going to the Serpentine to feed the ducks,’ Faith inserted, not wanting her children, who had no idea of the cost involved in renting ponies or hiring grooms, to wheedle Davie for expensive treats.
‘An excellent idea, Duchess,’ Davie said, making her a bow. ‘How nice to see all of you again.’
‘And you, Mr Smith.’ As he straightened, their eyes met, and for a moment, Faith let her tremulous smile and the intensity of her gaze convey all the longing and delight she dare not put into words.
He seemed to understand, for he stared back just as intensely, and for a moment, Faith thought he might take her hand.
Instead, he gave her a tiny nod and turned to Matthew, who was once again tugging at his coat sleeve. ‘Shall we go see those ducks, young man? As for ponies, I thought afterward, we might go to Astley’s Amphitheatre.’
Edward’s eyes widened and he gave a gasp. ‘Where the riders do tricks on horseback? That would be splendid!’
‘How kind of you to offer such a treat, Mr Smith, that’s not necessary; the tickets must be rather dear, I should think.’
Being led forward, as Matthew tugged at one hand and Colin the other, he looked back over his shoulder. ‘I’m not a penniless orphan any longer, Duchess.’
Her cheeks coloured. ‘I didn’t mean to imply—’
Then he chuckled, relieving her of the fear that she might have offended him. ‘No worries on that score. I can stand the ready, and I’d very much like to offer them that treat.’
‘Then, we accept with pleasure.’
‘Have you seen the horses there, Mama?’ Edward asked.
‘Your Aunt Sarah took me once, while the late Mr Astley still performed. They presented “The Battle of Waterloo”; it was quite a spectacle.’
‘A battle?’ Matthew cried. ‘With guns and horses and fighting and everything? That would be splendid!’
‘I’m afraid they don’t do the battle scene in the afternoons,’ Davie said. ‘But there are acrobats, and lots of horsemen doing tricks while they ride.’
‘Let’s feed the ducks fast!’ Colin said, picking up the pace.
A few minutes later they reached the verge of the Serpentine, Faith pulled the cloth-wrapped crumbs from her reticule, and the boys began vying to see who could attract the most ducks with their treasures.
Edward, who emptied his handful first, grew bored waiting while his youngest brother painstakingly tossed his bits down, crumb by crumb, giggling at the ducks who rushed around his small feet, gobbling down the morsels.
When one of the ducks, stymied of winning some of Colin’s last crumbs, waddled over to nudge at Edward’s feet, he picked up a branch and pushed it away. Apparently encouraged by the squawk and flapping of wings that ensued, he began hitting the duck on the back.
Before Faith could say anything, Davie reached out to stay his hand. ‘Don’t, Ashedon,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t hurt him; smaller creatures are here for us to enjoy and protect.’
‘It’s only a duck,’ Edward said with a shrug.
‘Every creature, no matter how lowly, has value,’ Davie said quietly. ‘Only men with small minds and hard hearts treat cruelly or slightingly those of lesser estate than themselves. A man of high position, as you will one day be, has a responsibility to protect those who are poorer and less fortunate.’
‘Like you do in Parliament?’ Edward said. ‘Uncle Nicholas said your Reform Bill wants to give all men a voice in running their government.’
‘That’s right. Wouldn’t you rather Nurse asked if you wanted bread—or jam tarts—with your tea, rather than just bringing you what she thinks is best for you?’ As he nodded, Davie continued, ‘Most men don’t mind following reasonable rules, but they do like to have a say in making them. Now, are we out of breadcrumbs, Master Colin?’
When her youngest nodded, Matthew gave a shout. ‘Now we get to see the ponies! C’mon, Colin, I’ll race you back to the coach!’
Rather than run ahead with the others, Edward chose to walk beside them. Her son was even more impressed with Davie than he’d been on that first excursion, Faith realised. But how could he not be? His own father had spent little time with him, never bothering to talk to him about anything that mattered, like a great man’s duty to those around him.
Probably because he didn’t feel any.
How she wished her sons could grow up with a man like Davie to model themselves after!
‘Won’t you ride to Astley’s with us, Mr Smith?’ Edward asked.
‘Thank you, Ashedon. If it’s all right with your mama, I will. But after we arrive,’ he continued, turning to address Faith, ‘why don’t you send your coach home? No need for the staff to hang about, walking the horses, while we watch the show.’
‘Very well, I’ll instruct John Coachman,’ Faith said, wishing she could take Davie’s arm, but too mindful of Edward keeping pace beside them.
The boys were, of course, their excuse to spend time together, but oh, if only she could find some way for them to steal a few minutes alone! How she longed for an obliging screen of trees, a gardener’s hut, a conveniently placed empty coach—anything that would allow her to glide close to him, lift her face, and beg another kiss.
Of course, there was nothing in Hyde Park but well-tended pathways...and once they reached Astley’s, there would be several hundred additional witnesses surrounding them, she thought, sighing.
Replying, ‘No!’, rather more sharply than she’d intended when Davie enquired whether something was wrong, she had to settle for the much-less-satisfying pleasure of laying her hand on his arm as he helped her into the coach.
The carriage ride to Astley’s was a mixed blessing. Moving her boys on to the forward seat, she was able to sit beside Davie. But trying to maintain a proper distance between them, when all she wanted was to snuggle up against him, strained both patience and decorum, while the bumps that jostled them enough for their knees or hands to touch set off sparks that made keeping away even more difficult.
A sidelong glance at his set jaw and a sensual tension so strong she wondered that even the boys didn’t notice something, told her he found this almost-but-not-quite togetherness as difficult as she did.
Still, she would rather burn in his presence than pine for his absence.
Not sure whether to be relieved or sorry when the carriage stopped at their destination—freeing them from frustration, but removing the tantalising possibility that any moment, another rut might throw them together—she let the groom hand her down, while Davie went to obtain their tickets.
Enough amorous thoughts, she scolded herself. You’re a mother, on this excursion primarily for your sons’ benefit. Concentrate on making sure they enjoy it.
Which didn’t require much effort, once the boys took their seats in the grandstand and the show began. Totally enthralled, they gasped at riders standing upright on the backs of their galloping horses; a female dressed like a ballerina poised on one foot as her horse circled the ring; others who jumped their horses over fences while standing upright. They marvelled as the manager, Andrew Duclow, performed his famous ‘Courier of St Petersburg’ stunt, standing astride two white horses while mounted riders carrying the flags of countries travelled through on the journey from England to Russia rode beneath him. With the rest of the crowd, they laughed at the shenanigans of the clowns, applauded the skill of the acrobats, and shouted approval at the finale when a group of riders entered the arena and raced their ponies round and round.
‘They will talk about this for weeks,’ Faith said over their heads. ‘You rose high enough in their estimation for the trip to Brookhollow Lodge; after this, it’s fortunate you will be occupied with business, for they would plead with you to take them out again and again.’
‘It would be hard to equal the excitement of Astley’s.’
‘For them, perhaps. I found the end of our day at Brookhollow even more satisfying. I only wish I could repeat that—again and again.’
Her words sparked his gaze to an intensity that promised he could deliver exactly what she burned for. Oh, she wanted...she wanted. But could she persuade him to it?
The light of his gaze burning hotter, he said, so softly that with all the noise around them, she could barely hear him, ‘Repeat that, and dare more.’ Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips for a brief caress.
Faith felt the delicious vibrations move up her arm and radiate throughout her body. How she wished they could leave this spot and go somewhere private! She longed with a fervour she’d never before experienced to kiss him, unknot his cravat and place her lips on his bared throat where the pulse throbbed. To peel him out of coat and waistcoat and shirt and rub her lips, her cheek, against his bare chest. Kiss him from his chest downward, unfastening his trousers to unveil him—
Shocked by the explicit carnality of her thoughts, Faith’s cheeks flamed. But she was spared the embarrassment of Davie noticing; he had already looked away, breaking that contact between them. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he said, ‘But we must be content with less.’
He wanted her, she was certain, but tempting him to act on that desire wouldn’t be easy. Was she even certain yet, despite the force of her desire, that she dared lead him there?
Exhaling a huff of frustration of her own, she turned her attention back to the arena.
What was she thinking, anyway? She was a matron with three sons, not a temptress from the demi-monde.
Sometimes, she thought wistfully, she wished she had their skills.
* * *
Soon after, the performance concluded. Davie went off to procure their hackney, finding some meat pasties for the boys along the way, which they consumed with gusto. For the length of the drive back to Berkeley Square, they chattered about what a famous time they’d had, what terrific performers the horsemen had been, how beautiful their mounts. Matthew announced his determination to become a skilled rider and open his own amphitheatre, graciously conceding that Colin could join with him, but Edward couldn’t, because he would have to be a duke.
Bracketed by exuberant boys, there was no chance for any private conversation. So, when Davie handed her down, after sending her sons up to the nursery, she lingered by the hackney.
‘Thank you for another perfect outing.’
He smiled. ‘I’m so glad you—and they—enjoyed it. Paragon that you are, no one deserves perfection more.’
‘I’m hardly that!’ she protested.
‘You are to me. The perfect embodiment of joy, purity, and delight.’
She knew she wasn’t worthy of such praise, but she couldn’t help drinking in an admiration that refilled the reservoirs of self-confidence and self-worth drained so low by years of marriage to a man who’d belittled her.
But the butler still stood at the top of the entry stairs, holding open the door. Hating to end the excursion, she nevertheless forced herself to say, ‘I must go now. Thank you again.’
Before she turned away, he caught up her hand and kissed it, the gaze they shared saying they both regretted not being able to end this interlude with the one thing that truly would have made the morning perfect. Faith’s lips tingled, imagining that forbidden, longed-for kiss.
Then, with a little nudge, Davie pushed her towards the stairs. ‘You must go in, Duchess. Thank you for a wonderful outing.’
‘You’ll let me know if you have another free morning?’ she asked, wanting to hold on to the magic by guaranteeing she would see him again.
‘Yes. Or you may be sure that Lady Lyndlington will rope you into one of her political projects, and I’ll see you there, or at another of her dinners.’
‘It can’t be too soon.’
‘I hope it is very soon.’ With that, Davie tipped his hat, and she reluctantly turned to walk up the stairs.
As she did, someone stirred the curtains at the front parlour window. Focusing on the movement, she realised with a shock that Lord Randall stood there, watching her as Davie’s hackney drove away.