And Edward had got all he’d wanted and more. Not just one heir, but two. Two strong, healthy boys, born a couple of weeks ago. Winterflood had written to tell his cousin of it. His joy and incredulity rose from the page in an almost palpable fashion, and Richard couldn’t be sure – not entirely sure – that in his delirium, the Duke even remembered his own crucial part in this triumph. Perhaps he did; perhaps this brief note was a tacit acknowledgment that Richard might want to know that Viola was well. Might care about her. But he didn’t think so. He thought Edward was writing such triumphant letters to almost everyone he’d ever met in his life. In other circumstances, he’d have found the older man’s hubris pardonable, even endearing, after so many anxious, disappointed years. Now he didn’t.
At any rate, he had used it as an excuse. He had not been invited this time, but he had come. He needed to see her for himself. And see the boys, just once.
He didn’t require anyone to show him into the great house, since he’d been a regular and welcome visitor here once. He made his way through from the stables, and then stood, hesitating, in the shadowy, marble hall. It was late and very quiet – he’d timed his arrival so that he didn’t precipitate a dinner-table scene that would be awkward and unpleasant for Viola. At this time of the evening, he was almost positive that she wouldn’t be downstairs, sitting chatting cosily with Edward. They were not that sort of couple, and she’d just recently given birth. And he didn’t want to see his cousin at all, but he supposed he must speak to him, however briefly, not sneak about like a thief.
He headed for the library. Winterflood was there alone, in his accustomed chair by the fire. He looked ten years younger than he had in February, but the complex mixture of emotions that raced across his face when he saw Richard did him no favours. Panic left the most abiding impression – that, and self-interest.
‘I haven’t come to see you,’ Mr Armstrong told him. ‘And don’t worry, I haven’t come to take her away either – not that you’d care for that – nor take the boys from you. You have everything you want, and much that you don’t deserve or appreciate. But you owe me this one brief visit. After this, I promise you I won’t trouble you again.’
Edward had risen to his feet. ‘Richard, my dear boy…’ he murmured helplessly, as if anything he could say could mend matters at this late date.
‘I don’t have anything else to say to you, and I don’t want to hear anything you might have to say to me. You cannot possibly apologise, because you would not mean a word of it. And I certainly won’t discuss Viola with you. I’m going up to see her now. Then I’ll leave. If I thought it would do any good, I’d tell you that you should treat her better. But I tried that before and it was to no avail, so wrapped up as you were in your own concerns. I grew up thinking you were a good man, and perhaps you were once, but your grief has made you selfish and cruel. People aren’t pawns, Edward. Even a duke should know that.’
Richard shut the door behind him with a solid clunk and made his way slowly up the staircase. He’d never been to Viola’s bedchamber, but he knew where it was. It had been his cousin Elizabeth’s room once.
It occurred to him belatedly now that her mother was probably staying at Winterflood and could easily be with her, or some other female relative, and that she might be surrounded by nursemaids too, and therefore his sudden abrupt appearance at this hour could cause a fearful bustle and – when they thought about its implications – a scandal. He should have been much more careful, rather than creeping in at night. His own feelings had made him inconsiderate, reckless, which was ironic after his self-righteous accusation to Edward.
But she was alone.
25
Viola lay drowsing in her bed with a flickering candle beside her, knowing she should be sleeping while she had the chance but aware that at least one of the twins would surely be hungry soon and demanding food. She was exhausted, had no idea what day it was, and felt ridiculously happy. This was an unexpected gift, and she cherished it.
The arrival of the twins hadn’t been a complete surprise – towards the end of her pregnancy, there’d been times when the number of limbs kicking and prodding her belly in a sort of vigorous internal country dance had definitely seemed more than the traditional four – but her child or children had always felt theoretical before they’d emerged after a long day of pain and fear. A son, a daughter – cut-out figures from a child’s chapbook in frilled shirt or muslin gown. But these werepeople. Often angry, wailing little people, pink and furious, but people all the same. Robert – but she had already decided he was Robin – the younger boy, was easy enough to please. He would bellow lustily when he was hungry or wet, but he suckled with evident contentment, ceased crying as soon as he was made comfortable, and was already bigger than his brother. Edward – Ned, God knows he would never be Edward if she could help it – was more discontented, restless, his needs harder to fathom. But they both gazed up at her with such trusting dark-blue eyes, and she worshipped them from the top of their downy dark heads to their perfect toes. The Duke, of course, was besotted with them, as well he might be – but she didn’t care about that very much.
When the door opened, she wriggled upright against the pillows, her breasts already leaking in anticipation – it would be her nursemaid, Sarah, bringing the insatiable monsters to be fed, though oddly, she couldn’t hear any screaming. Perhaps they were just stirring and Sarah had decided to bring them quickly, before they woke the whole house.
But it wasn’t her.
Richard strode across the room to her side and sank to his knees next to the bed. He was pale and travel-worn, and he didn’t seem to know what to say. She reached out and stroked his dark head just for a moment – so like his sons’, so very like.
‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,’ she whispered.
He found her hand and pressed it to his cold lips. ‘I had to come, Viola. I heard you were with child – it was quite the sensation in London, you can imagine. I wanted to see you then, I have never stopped wanting to see you, but I thought my coming here would be dangerous for you.’
New mothers were supposed to be a picture of milky contentment, but she was apparently the exception to that rule, now that she saw him at last. ‘And now it isn’t?’
‘I know it is still. I know I could easily have found you surrounded by people – nursemaids, your family… But I needed to see you once, needed it too badly to be thinking straight. I hope you’ll forgive me for the risks I took. It wasn’t out of lack of love, I promise you. Are you well? You look well – you look wonderful. I’m so glad you did not come to any harm. I can’t even imagine…’
Of course he couldn’t; no man could. She knew she didn’t look wonderful. She had huge, dark circles under her eyes, and spots, and her body was no longer her own, if indeed it ever had been. But let that pass for now.
‘He wrote to you?’
‘I think he wrote to everybody.’
She laughed, though she could have cried. ‘He’s very proud, considering he had nothing at all to do with any of it. But if you are worried that he will not love them just as if they were his own, you can banish that thought from your mind. He does. At first, when I saw him holding them, I wanted to yell at him, to say that he must put them down because he had no right. But I realised that would be wrong, and selfish. They deserve a father’s love, and he will be their father. Heistheir father, as far as the world will ever know.’ She saw the raw pain in his face and said with a little impatience, ‘Richard, what other option is there? Once, I foolishly asked you to take me with you, but if I repeated that folly now, if I said, “Take me and our sons, so that we can be together as a family!”, where would we go and what would we do? I don’t blame you for it. It’s just the truth. You were the sensible one once – well, now I must be.’
He said bleakly, ‘I’ll always love you.’
‘I don’t suppose you will, you know. You have your life to live. I don’t ask it of you – I’m sure there will be other women. Perhaps there already are. What good is that kind of love to either of us? All it can do is hurt us terribly.’ She became aware that she was weeping.
‘Viola, I didn’t come here to make things harder for you.’
She’d missed him so much, she’d lain awake for hours longing for the comfort of his embrace and the passion his lightest touch could evoke in her, she’d wept night after night at the thought that she would probably never see him again, but now that he was here, he brought her no comfort, only pain. He was a reminder of a world that lay outside Winterflood that she could never really be part of. Her life was here with Edward. Even if nothing else had tied her before, her unbreakable love for the boys did now. But that did not mean she had to be a helpless prisoner.
‘I mean to speak to him, when I am steady on my feet again. I mean to tell him that he cannot keep me all but locked up here as he has done. My wishes must be considered in future. He has allowed my family to stay with me – because it suited his purposes, of course, while I was increasing – and that must continue even though there will never be another child for me. Perhaps Emily can come and live with me to keep me company. Once the boys are older, I would like to travel a little. London is not so far away.’
‘You have it all worked out, it seems.’
