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“Who in Elijah’s life ever succeeded in forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do?”
She pulled back from him, her pretty, red eyebrows raised. “You met him but a handful of times.”
“Am I wrong?”
She smiled faintly. “You know you’re not. You sounded like your father when you asked that. Oh, I meant no offense, Nicholas! It was an observation. A fond one.”
He shook his head. “You alluded to the difficulty of fathers and sons earlier with Elijah. At the moment, I don't want to be like my father.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I hate that what happened withAlacritycaused strife between you two. That my family has caused yours pain.”
Whether it was the sense that her greatest fragility had passed or Nicholas himself simply could not take it anymore, he knew the time had come to confront her way of thinking. “Helen, do you consider yourself so infinitely godlike that you can determine everyone else’s fate? That all burdens are yours to carry? That you, since arriving in England less than a year ago, are responsible for the state of my family?”
He didn’t relish her shock at his questions, but the realization he saw dawning made it worth it.
“Oh, Nicholas. I’ve been doing it again. I promised myself,promised, that I wasn’t responsible for everyone else.”
Stroking her eyebrow, he gazed into her eyes, relieved to see she wasn’t angry with him.But I don’t want her angry at herself.“Gentle as you go. Don’t punish yourself, now or for my father’s doings. He was being himself. Concerned with himself above all else. His own interests. That’s the problem, not anything to do with you or your family.”
She took in a deep breath before speaking. “Pen has planned a special evening tomorrow night—a family supper with Mr. Macalester.”
“I wish the man luck.”
“I know you were invited and declined. I sent my regrets, too. But what if we change our minds and go together, Nicholas?”
“You’re a good woman. I see what you’re about. I love my father and always shall. But that doesn’t mean I can always stand him. Sometimes forgiveness is best left for the dead.”
“Oh, Nicholas, do you hear yourself? That’s nonsense! I thank God for the understanding Elijah and I shared before he died. Your father survived that brush with death last year, but he’s not immortal. Imagine if suddenly, he was gone.”
“I don’t wish him ill. Nor did I wish for this subject to burden you, Helen. Come, you have enough to worry about.” He looked meaningfully at the partially destroyed copy ofThe Timesthat she’d dropped to the carpet. “At least let me light a candle to burn that rubbish.”
Helen sat back from him with a sad air. “I understand your anger. Your hurt. But I have been part of families who did not take the care with each other that yours does. Who didn’t share what yours does. Tomorrow night is Pen’s night, not your father’s.”
“I’ve spoken with Pen and Macalester, and they both know they have my blessing in full. That my absence tomorrow isn’t because of them.”
“But it hurts Pen, nonetheless. And it hurts you—for you won’t be with your family, who love you and wish to be with you.”
“I’ll be with you.”
“No. I’ll be at your parents’s house tomorrow night.”
He leaned forward and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t trust myself, Helen. I’m so damned angry with him! I won’t subject you, my mother, or Pen to that. I’m a patient man—until I’m not. If I were to sit at the dining table and hear him say the wrong thing again…”
Helen shifted on the settee. “I can’t sit still a moment longer. I know you met your earl at your tennis club today, but I’ve been far too sedentary for my own good. Will you accompany me on a walk?”
Grateful for the chance to do something for Helen—and to escape the subject at hand—he agreed readily. On their way out, he smiled approvingly at the instructions she issued to Farnworth.
“A dreadful piece of refuse is on the drawing room carpet. Please see it burned to ashes.”
They walked in companionable silence; Helen had often needed quiet during these last weeks. With her renewed energy of late, it did not surprise him when she showed no signs of stopping at Connaught Square, and they continued to nearby Hyde Park. It was an idyllic summer evening at the very end of August; the heat had peaked and was pleasant, and once they reached the large park, they saw the best of what summer in London offered.
“It’s welcome to be here again with you,” he said as they strolled beneath the canopy of lush trees. Before news of Elijah’s death reached them, they had often explored the park together in the evenings.
Her hand tightened on his arm. “It’s welcome to me as well. My strength is returning. In fact, I’d like to see the construction.”
Nicholas’s pace didn’t falter, and he suppressed any hint of his reluctance—having nothing to do with her and everything to do with avoiding connections to his father. “Certainly.”
“I’ve been so…immersed in my own sorrow that it wasn’t until this week that I learned construction on Mr. Paxton’s design had begun.”
