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“Why were you and father so unhappy together,” he murmured.
His mother froze, folding her hands into her lap and looking beyond his shoulders to the glistening water on the lake. A pang of regret filled him, for he did not want to stir unhappy memories for her. “Mother—”
“No, Alexander, it is quite fine for you to ask. We did make cakes of ourselves, and one of my most aggrieved memories is of you as a little boy, hugging me with your tiny arms as I cried out my heartache.”
Those memories slammed into him, the first horrifying time he’d seen his father shove his mother away from him, and she’d stumbled to the carpeted floor. Her shoulders had shaken violently under her tears and emotions, and his father had merely walked away. Alexander had hugged her, crying with her, even as he had not fully understood what he saw.
He had been a lad of about six years at the time. “Did it ever get better?”
“It did,” she said softly. “Somehow it did, and by the time Oscar was born, I daresay your father and I were happy with our lot. We even became friends.”
That bit of knowledge surprised him. He had gone away to Eton and then onto Cambridge, so he had not witnessed these developments between his parents. Curiosity nipped at him. “What was the reason for the unhappiness?”
She looked at him, her expression veiled. “At the beginning of our courtship, I loved someone else.”
That was the last thing he had expected to hear. A knot formed in his gut. “You did?”
“Yes. He was my dancing tutor. A gentleman only four years older than myself. He was the fourth son of a baron with little prospects.” A faraway look entered her eyes. “I was not allowed to marry him, and I was not brave or willful enough to run away when he begged me. I married your father when I was a girl of nineteen years, but I never forgot the gentleman I fell in love with several months prior. He wrote me several letters and I…I cherished them, instead of tossing them away…and one day, your father discovered them.”
His mother took a deep breath, tugging off one of her gloves, to lean over slightly and glide her fingers through the cool water. Alexander did not prod her, allowing her the courtesy of ending her story wherever she wished.
“He was understandably angry, and we fought about it when he destroyed those letters without my permission. I think he was afraid I was still in love with that boy, but I was not. I had accepted that he was my past but had not let go of the letters. Those letters revealed we had shared several moments of intimacy before I met your father. I called him a hypocrite, for all society knew he had a mistress. It was the beginning of our fights, and they lasted for a few years.”
A somber emotion in her stare wrenched an odd sensation in his heart.
“Our beginning was tumultuous, but in the end…we loved each other, Alexander. Dearly, and when he died so suddenly, I mourned him with my whole heart.”
Silence fell between them, and his mother seemed contemplative while she ran her fingers lazily over the water's surface.
“Father has been gone for a little over thirteen years.”
Startled eyes met his. “I am aware of the passage of time, Alexander.”
“Have you ever thought about sending…sending your first love a letter?”
His mother’s eyes widened, and she pressed a hand over her chest. “Alexander!”
He grinned. “Have I said something shocking?”
“I am a woman of over fifty years,” she said pertly.
“You are one of the most beautiful ladies I know.”
She smiled, a bright flush mounting her cheeks. “We were discussing your romantic tendencies. How ever did we get here?”
Alexander chuckled. “If you are lonely, mother, reach out to him.”
Her lips trembled, clearly making it hard to form steady words. “Perhaps he is married or not interested in marrying now. It hardly matters. I loved your father with my whole heart…and I would never marry again.”
Everything inside him stilled. He wondered if Lucinda had loved her second husband and if losing him had anything to do with her desire to never remarry.
“Now, you will stop probing your nose and tell me about your feelings for Lady Darby.”
He swallowed his groan. “She is not interested in marrying again, so know that before you start building any fantasy around our friendship.”
Deviltry danced in her eyes. “Oh, is that what it is? A friendship? While Lucinda looked at you like a lady willing to surrender to your advances, you, my dear son, were even more scandalous in the debauched manner you observed her. I had to forbid Hannah from watching you both.”
With a muttered curse, he stood and dived into the waters of the lake, his mother’s tinkling laugh somehow finding its way to his ears, taunting him.
