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“Good morning, my lord,” Bea replied. “Thank you for joining us on our ride this morning. We’re traveling across the moors to the sea!”
“Adventurous!” Smiling, he dropped to the floor next to Bea. The boy launched himself and William caught him, pulling him close. The worst of William’s despair was shelved, at least for now, as he nuzzled his son’s sweet head, prompting the babe’s honking laugh.
Bea’s musical laughter joined—until she gasped.
“William! Your hand!”
“It’s nothing.”
“Hardly nothing! It looks as though Charlemagne’s own sword cut through you!”
“No, no. Just some broken crystal.”
His protestations couldn’t stop her gentle touch, though, as she inspected his palm. Gratification warmed him at her concern, a sign that whatever harm he had done, she didn’t hate him in full.At least not by day.
“Hannah! Do take Ben now,” Bea called out. More softly, she explained to him, “You must have this wrapped, my lord.”
He was of half a mind to reject her management of him, for the last thing he wanted was to be treated like a boy. But he found himself standing anyway, yearning for her care.
“Thank you for your ministrations, Lady Candleton,” he said with a smile when they reached the ground floor.
“Ofcourse, my lord! We must see you well. Oh, there you are, Mrs. Albert,” she addressed the housekeeper, who materialized before them. “His lordship’s hand requires bandaging. It’s not bleeding anymore, so I don’t believe you’ll need any sliced cork. Fresh strips of linen ought to do it.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I release you into the housekeeper’s good care,” said Bea, inclining her head gracefully. “I shall see you at the breakfast table.”
Watching her sail up the stairs inflicted more pain than his palm being sliced open. Both were his fault, he realized. He had squeezed her until she had broken like the goblet. Until recently, never would she have relinquished him for bandaging by a servant.
She arrived slightly late to breakfast, having sent word that she was upstairs with Benjamin. Though she did her best to time his feedings so as not to interfere with the household schedule, he understood entirely.
You must cease your selfishness, he thought, gazing upon her across the table from him. Expecting Bea to be all things to the children and him was going to deplete her. It was time for him to embrace in full this life any nobleman and member of the House of Lords could only dream of; time to relinquish Bea to pursue her wifely and motherly duties in peace.
After breakfast, William returned to his study, and a while later, aimless and frustrated, found himself heading to the Thames Fencing Club as originally planned. It was doubtful he could or should wield his foil. With a wry laugh, he sank tiredly against the carriage cushions, making two realizations.
First, he was out of sorts and exhausted after a single night of disturbed rest. He had long admired Bea’s fortitude, and he respected it more now, realizing how she had managed difficult nights with the children followed by her duties by day.
The second was that he was now in the same position as his sometimes naughty son. After his puerile impulsivity with the goblet, William might as well place his French-made blade on a shelf with Edmund’s wooden dowel. Today, his time in the club would be limited to footwork and discipline training—as he had been doing with his child.
Despite his good-natured attempt to laugh at his circumstances, he exited his carriage in foul spirits.
“Haughley,” he replied to the Viscount’s greeting as the two entered the club together.
“Quite the scowl, Candleton. Nothing some sparring can’t—say, old man, what the deuce happened to your hand?”
“Nothing!”
“As you say, Candleton, as you say,” he replied easily.
The spring in the man’s step and his jaunty whistle enraged William, and he rounded on him. “What the hell hasyouin such a good mood?”
Chuckling, the Viscount took no offense. “I daresay a dose of my medicine would heal whatever ails you. I’ve a new mistress, as eager as she is costly.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “She earns every pound. No, no, I won’t share until I’m finished with her. But she’s not the only medicine in town.”
Haughley’s cheerful disregard for his wedding vows had never sat well with William, but William knew he was the unusual one, not Haughley. New today was the temptation to be like everyone else. He’d never minded being different in the way he managed his marriage and family compared to fellow nobleman; he’d seen the benefits of his choices.
But now he was awash in the adversity of it all, and he was tired of swimming upstream. Even Bea had urged him to seek a mistress that night in the drawing room after the Robertsons’s visit. He had dismissed her suggestion immediately as a sign of her anger, but now…
“How does one go about finding such medicine?”
