Page 42 of The Duke’s Wager

“We love you, Edward, and this is a happy day because we gained a grandchild, but we lost your mother and therefore… it will always have a little sadness too.”

He hadn’t understood then. How was he supposed to? He’d been a mere child. All he wanted was for his family to celebrate his birthday the same way it was celebrated for his peers.

“I wish you were here.”

His whisper disappeared in the wind. He didn’t visit the cemetery often and yet… this was where he felt true to himself. This was where he felt close to his parents – where he felt as though who he was, could possibly be enough. Here, he could be Edward – son of William and Elizabeth. That’s all he needed to be here.

Of course, it helped that the cemetery and chapel lay hidden behind thick willows – far from prying eyes. It was the only place in London where he truly felt at ease enough to be himself. At ease enough to let go of the mask.

“Here lies Elizabeth Lockhart,” he read. “Loved beyond death.”

The inscription was already faded – many years had passed since it was written. Beneath it, the font was a little less faded. “Here lies William Lockhart. Who loved her beyond death.”

Tears formed in his eyes at the sight. Perhaps for some, his parents’ story could be a beautiful one. It was indeed one filled with love – enough love for his father to stop living after his mother had passed.

Those stories about love, he mused now, always focused on the two people privy to that love. Books and poems forgot that other people existed in the lives of lovers.

William Lockhart had forgotten this as well.

His father had been a romantic at heart.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Again, the wind carried his whisper away – leaving no answer in its wake. Edward sighed. He wanted nothing more than to make his parents proud – and as much as he knew that his current way of life was no way of doing that, he could not pretend to know in the slightest what would have made them proud.

In truth, he was still a lost little boy. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. This was the only place where he was allowed to admit it, even in his most secret thoughts.

Although his question remained unanswered, Edward did not leave – he did not even consider it. It did not matter.

The silence, the peace he felt when he was here, it was all he knew about his parents, and to him, it was enough. It had to be enough, for he would never have more. Edward sighed deeply and rested his head against the pillar next to their graves.

Here, he felt like he belonged, even if he craved answers that would never come. Somehow, there was something more special than any answer could be.

Somehow, when he was here, it was like he found peace.

* * *

“Are you certain it is a good idea to be here, Lady Lucy?”

Maria looked at Lucy, concerned. The redness on her cheek had faded and her eyes were no longer tear-filled. Still, she knew that Maria was concerned about her.

It would have to be hard not to be – Lucy knew that there was something feverish about her sudden desire to visit her mother’s grave. It was made worse by the knowledge that her father would most certainly not approve of her visiting.

Still, she could not find it in her to care. This was her safe place – it was the one place in the world where she felt close to her mother.

One would think that a man who loved his wife as much as people claimed her father had loved her mother would erect a shrine in honor of her after her death. Instead, every trace of her mother had been erased from their home.

Portraits were burned, clothes were thrown out, even the gifts that Lucy had received from her mother as a child were donated to shelters, with the offhanded excuse that she was too grown up for silly trinkets.

The few dresses she still possessed had been saved by Maria – without her father’s knowledge. Lucy was certain that Maria would feel the brunt of his wrath if he ever were to find out, so she made a point of hiding them between her other clothes.

The flowers on her mother’s grave were dead, and she looked at them regretfully. She did not come out here nearly enough. The vase was quickly emptied, and she placed the roses on her mother’s grave.

Maria had not wanted them, claiming that they were a gift to Lucy, and she did not want them to go to waste because of her incessant sneezing. Thus, she decided to place them on her mother’s grave.

Lucy knelt next to the grave, wiping some of the muck off the stone. “I miss you, mama.”

After her death, Henrietta’s name was hardly ever mentioned and if it had been by accident, her father had gotten irrationally angry.