“Is that so? Well, in that case, John, you might well grow up to be the smartest man in England. That would be a surprise, wouldn’t it, from such humble beginnings?”
Lydia tried not to think about the life that John was going to have because it was a life in which she would likely have no part. While her mother had always tried to remind her that part of caring for something was setting it free, Lydia had never been able to prevent herself from being unhappy about that. The loss was always profound, but it was a challenge to care for something while also maintaining emotional distance.
She rarely succeeded, and as she stared at Victor, she wondered how he could hold John and not feel any pull towards him or any sense of care or responsibility.
“We shouldn’t argue in front of him like that. I believe he can pick up on the tension,” she said.
“Perhaps you are right, but in that case, you really must stop persisting with this idea that I am in some way responsible forwhat happened. I have no idea who that maid was or why she left the child here, if indeed it was her.”
“And you must stop getting annoyed with me for having influence over the house. There are going to be questions about this child, and people are still going to talk. If there is any hint that things are not as they should be within our marriage, then it will only serve to arouse suspicion and invite more questions. I’m sure you do not wish to garner more attention.”
“No,” Victor said firmly, and a sour look came onto his face. “There has been far too much of that already. But we must make one agreement at least. I believe my time is better spent searching for John’s mother. You are far better at attending to his needs.”
“Perhaps, although it does not seem that way at the moment.” She smiled as she said this, looking upon the baby nestled perfectly, quietly in the Duke’s arms. It was almost impossible to believe that just a few moments ago, John had been screaming his little heart out. “You might have missed your calling, Victor. You could take care of John while I managed the business.”
The Duke was caught looking into John’s eyes. John had a hypnotic quality about him, where time could slip away so easily just by looking at him. It was hard for Lydia to tear her gaze away because she feared missing out on a wriggle, a gurgle, or a twitch. It was a wonder that Charlotte had managed to get any books written with Matthew around.
“I hardly think so,” Victor replied dryly, “although it is reassuring to know that I am not completely incapable. You can rely on me should there ever be an emergency.”
Lydia smirked. Of course, he would attempt to put limitations on the time he spent with John. The Duke was hardly generous with his attention or his time, but she did not challenge this at the moment for fear that it would arouse John’s unhappiness again. The ache was only just beginning to fade from her mind.
As she gazed at Victor holding the baby, she couldn’t help but feel touched by the sight. However, the fact that John calmed down in Victor’s arms made her wonder if there was something more to their connection. The Duke denied it and claimed that the baby wearing his crest was just a coincidence, but she couldn’t shake the thought that the baby might still be his.
Perhaps that was why he seemed so reluctant to spend time with the child, because it reminded him of his shame. He was so averse to scandal that it made her wonder if he feared the truth. There was so much about the man that she did not know. Her husband was a mystery to her.
What dark secrets is he hiding?
Chapter Fourteen
Victor’s head was still ringing with the echo of John’s cries. He had managed to extricate himself hours earlier when John had fallen asleep. His arms felt strange without the weight of the baby, but he tried to shake off the feeling. It wasn’t worth getting used to after all. In an ideal world, the baby would be back with its mother before too long, and the worst-case scenario did not bear thinking about.
Victor arrived for supper and nodded thanks as a servant brought in a bowl of thick broth. He picked up a spoon and dipped it into the dark liquid, but he could not bring it to his mouth because the empty chair vexed him.
Lydia was absent.
And all of this after she was so quick to speak about appearances. He huffed and kept turning towards the door, assuming that she would arrive at any moment, but the doorway remained empty. He summoned a servant.
“Where is my wife?” he asked. “Surely she can’t still be in the garden?”
“I believe she’s upstairs with the baby, Your Grace,” the servant said.
Victor pressed his lips together and threw his napkin onto the table.
“Keep that warm,” he barked and then stomped upstairs, trying not to look at the carpet as he did so. He had to begrudgingly admit that it was a positive change, and it did make the house look bigger.
He found Lydia in the nursery, holding John in her arms. She was sitting in a rocking chair, and it creaked gently. John was asleep, and Lydia looked as though she was half asleep as well.
Her face was pale, and her eyes were heavy. She had a drawn look about her, as though she had been up for days.
“Lydia,” he hissed, careful not to disturb John. After hearing him scream earlier, Victor was not eager to repeat such a thing. Lydia stirred, her eyes flashing open. She shuddered for a moment as she tried to steady herself and then seemed to remember where she was. She looked down at John, and there was relief in her eyes which he assumed was because the baby was asleep.
Lydia rose slowly from the rocking chair and placed John in the crib. She tiptoed toward him, and they both exited the room, pulling the door closed.
“What are you doing up here? The maids can look after him,” Victor said.
“He was restless and unsettled. I wanted to make sure he fell asleep calmly,” Lydia said, yawning as she did so. She looked away and tried to stifle the yawn.
“You look exhausted.”
