Page 39 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

“Do you think of the old Lord Barforth as a father figure?” Jo surprised him by asking.

“Percival?” Robert asked as he sat up straighter. “Xavier’s father?” he clarified, since Jo might not know his stepfather’s first name.

Jo nodded as she carefully watched his expression. He could tell she was afraid she had overstepped.

“I do,” he told her without having to think of it. “He has been since I was nine years old.” He cleared his throat as he looked out over the landscape beneath them. “He was a lot like Xavier. Difficult to become acquainted with. I know a lot of people found him arrogant because of it, but he always made an effort with Maggie and me. I could tell, even though I was a child. He already cared for us when he married our mother, and he wanted us to like him as well.”

Robert gulped too loudly for his own comfort at the last words. It had been five years since Percival had suddenly fallen ill and died in the span of just a month. There had been nothing to do. It had not been the same as his own father. He had fallen ill shortly after Maggie was born and had struggled with the disease for years before he died. Robert had no memory of him not being ill.

“I am sorry,” Jo told him gently.

Robert offered her a feeble smile and wished she would touch him in a comforting manner, but of course she did not know him well enough to do so.

“I think about him every day, although I rarely speak of him,” he muttered and picked at a loose thread in the blanket.

“You don’t speak of him with your mother or Lord Barforth?”

“You can call him Xavier, and no, not with him either.”

Jo nodded thoughtfully and it was her turn to look out over the landscape.

“I don’t remember my mother,” she told him. “She died when I was very little. Not in childbirth,” she hurriedly added, as if that distinction was important. Then he remembered her words about her most important role in their marriage being that she gave birth to his children. It sat unwell with him that she thought so, even though he did not know which role she was meant to play then. Now was not the time to examine it.

“She was in an accident. She was very mild-tempered and gentle, my uncle told me. A bit like Philomena I imagine.”

“There is more to Philomena than meets the eye,” Robert muttered while he kept his attention on Jo.

“Perhaps there was more to my mother than my uncle knew,” Jo mused and sent him a wistful smile before she looked at the meadow again. “My father never spoke of her.”

“What happened to him?”

“Consumption,” was Jo’s only answer. She gulped loudly and blinked several times.

“Favorite fruit?” Robert asked to take her mind off her dead parents, hoping it was the right instinct.

“Pineapple,” Jo said after a thought. “Although I have only ever had it twice.”

“I have a couple of trees in my orangery. You will be able to eat them at Riddlesmarsh Hall when they are ready.”

“Truly?” Jo asked delightedly and Robert felt thankful he had followed his instinct to distract her.

“My gardener is having a difficult time keeping them alive in this climate, despite the heat in the orangery. But he is extremely stubborn and so far, he is winning.”

They shared a smile.

“What’s yours then?” Jo asked. “Favorite fruit?”

“Raspberries. There is a small forest close to Barforth Castle that is riddled with them. We used to go there to pick them ourselves. Philomena and Rafe were completely covered in mashed berries and scrapes from the bushes. They would just launch themselves into the shrubbery to get to the juiciest berries.” He grinned at the memory and made Jo smile.

“This was before her illness?” Jo asked tentatively and Robert nodded. They had not gone since, he remembered.

“That’s a lovely tradition,” she muttered and they shared a long look.

He felt certain the same thought was on their mind; that it would be a great tradition to have with their own children. He wanted nothing more than to be able to close the distance between them and kiss her. Sweet and tentative, but with the promise of more.

But he must honor her list. It was still only the first week of their marriage. Kissing on the mouth was not on the agenda until week three.

Jo must be able to sense the direction of his thoughts, because her cheeks reddened and she looked away abruptly.