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He let out a loud breath of disagreement.
‘Rhys. I am your mother. It is not only her acting differently. You are too aware of her. You understand quite well what I am really saying. A man’s nature is such as it is. You could ruin her. She does not deserve that. You would hurt her. It is not the best situation for either one of you and you know it. She has told me how she is more comfortable with the servants at the earl’s house than the guests. She has been there two years.’ She paused. ‘Think of her.’
His mother glanced at the statues. ‘They’re just bits of pottery. I don’t know why we thought them anything else. Meant to hold memories of the past. They do. Soot left after the fire is gone.’ She made a motion of sweeping them away before fixing her eyes on him. ‘I don’t know why I kept them.’
She stopped at his side, and reached to the loop of his cravat, straightening it. ‘Think of her,’ the duchess said again.
She left, skirts fluttering at her ankles. The maid moved by the doorway again, tray empty. Rhys called, stopping her.
‘Inform the stable master to be ready to journey to London at a moment’s notice.’
* * *
Rhys finished his meal, surrounded by empty chairs. The lamps lit the room as brightly as they always had. He sat at the same place he’d always sat.
He lifted his wine glass, sipped and put it down. Echoes of his sister’s laughter, Geoff’s jests and his father’s half-hearted grumbles bounced in Rhys’s memory. His mother, one brow raised in feigned dismay, or lips pressed to hide her smile, had presided over them all.
An infinite world at the time.
If he had known what was to happen, how could he have enjoyed the moments, knowing they were to end? But if he had known the future, the time with his family would have meant so much more.
Nothing could change one second of the time before or since. No oath was strong enough. He’d tried them all.
He stood, took the glass and finished it, sitting it back in the place it had always been and left the room.
No oath was strong enough.
Walking along the hallway, he stepped into the library and picked up one of the statuettes, turning it in his hand before putting it back on the mantel. His grandmother had owned one. His mother had added to the collection and his sister had given one to his mother. The women had thought them precious and he’d seen no value in them at all. None. Except now they’d somehow begun to matter a great deal to him.
Once he’d had to grab his mother’s wrists to keep her from smashing them to the floor. They were supposed to have been passed to a daughter’s daughter.
‘What are you thinking of?’ The question jarred him from his thoughts. He turned. Bellona stood in the doorway, staring at him. Yesterday, the message she’d sent to him had begged off reading practice because she said the duchess insisted on helping her. He knew why his mother kept Bellona at her side. He also knew just how long it had been since he’d been alone with Bellona. Two days. That he had kept count disturbed him. That his senses came alive when he saw her concerned him even more. His mother was right.
He watched her study his face. ‘I was thinking of the statues on the mantel. How long they’ve been there. Most of them, my whole life.’
She walked into the room with the assurance of someone who’d never seen a cloudy day, but her eyes belied her steps.
‘Your mother. I am concerned about her.’
‘She is more demanding?’
Bellona shook her head. ‘No. She’s more pleasant, but still...’
‘The woman you have met is not the woman she was before. She wasn’t gentle, but she wasn’t the same as she’s been. The grief took over. Her worries surrounded her.’
‘I run from mine.’ She only touched her skirt long enough to hitch it up on one side, before letting it flutter into place. ‘Sturdy boots, remember.’
‘You can’t always escape the things that trouble you.’
‘If you say so.’ She stepped to the books, grimaced and began to study the spines. ‘I am thankful I ran from Melos. I am also making certain I do not have to stay in London if I don’t wish it. If I cannot be in my own country, then I have no place to bind me to it. That is why I have decided to learn to read. Your mother said it might be needed some day to write to my sisters.’
‘A good reason.’
She tugged at a book, looked at it and put it back.
‘Where would you go?’ he asked. He hadn’t thought beyond the moment.
‘I have a friend who thinks of me as a daughter, I believe. And she knows a woman who married well, but is lonely. They have written to each other and the woman says I might visit and, if we get on well, I can stay with her.’
