There had been a fair bit of walking to reach the appointed spot, and Matthew had been in a flurry of excitement the whole way, by turns racing on ahead and then returning as Gabriel called him back in deference to Claire’s shorter strides. But it had been impossible to restrain him as their mounts had come into view over a small rise, and he’d darted forward, laughing in delight as he raced toward the little brown pony, and Gabriel hadn’t bothered to do more than shoot her an apologetic glance and lope along after him.
In the past few weeks, she had seen a glimpse of the sort of father Gabriel would have made, and it had scored her to her very soul. Most noblemen—in fact, mostmen, in credit to her experiences with them—would have been content to consign a child to the nursery, and perhaps allow a short visit once a week or so, during which point the child would be expected to perform like a trained circus animal, displaying what he had learned at his lessons and attempting to behave as a miniature adult for the entertainment and pleasure of his parents.
But Gabriel was not content with that sort of absent attention, and it broke her heart. He reviewed lesson plans with the governess, and had Matthew brought down for tea nearly every day. Though it was unheard of for children to take their meals outside of the nursery, Gabriel insisted on at least a few nights a week where Matthew was brought down to take dinner in the dining room with him. Claire had been extended an invitation to join, but she had politely declined. In truth, it had very little to do with the inherent impropriety of a woman of her station sitting down to dinner with a man of his, and rather too much to do with the fact that she could not seem to keep her eyes from watering profusely at the sight of them together.
He was so patient with his son, so kind—and yet he took such pains not to overstep, to never override her authority as Matthew’s mother. He might cajole her into agreement, but he would never have countermanded her.
If, earlier in the day, she had forbidden to allow Matthew to ride, he would have acquiesced to her wishes. And that was so unfair, for he had every right to have an equal hand in the raising of his son.
He had missed so much of Matthew’s life already. So many first moments had passed by, unknown to him. Surreptitiously she dashed at her eyes, though she had elected to stay back some distance beneath the dubious shelter of an oak tree, which had lost the majority of its leaves, stretching its gnarled branches to scratch up at the grey winter sky. Neither Gabriel nor Matthew could see her clearly from this distance, nor could she pick out their facial expressions—but Matthew’s joyful laugh sailed to her ears on the breeze, and Gabriel’s warm chuckle was not far behind it.
Gabriel lifted Matthew into the saddle, helping him adjust himself to remain seated. The pony, a truly docile little creature, seemed hardly to notice the extra weight, though he did toss his head in appreciation as Matthew leaned forward to pet his mane. With incredible patience, Gabriel took the leading reins and showed Matthew how to squeeze his legs to spur the pony into movement. They progressed forward at a sedate walk, with Gabriel issuing minor corrections to Matthew’s form, explaining to him how to hold the reins, how to issue commands through minute adjustments to one’s grip or subtle nudges with one’s knees.
Matthew bounced along in the saddle until Gabriel showed him how to correct his posture, and together—with Gabriel holding the leading reins—they led the pony in a slow circuit until Matthew had learned to move with his mount, to anticipate the motions the animal made beneath him. Another slow circuit later, and Gabriel motioned for his own mount, vaulting into the saddle with the skill of seasoned rider. Taking up the leading reins once again, he urged the pony into a trot, and Matthew whooped and hollered as they rode a winding route around the area.
Gabriel shot a brief glance over his shoulder, and Claire knew immediately that he was ensuring they remained within her sight, so that she would have no fear that any harm would come to her son where she could not see him.
It was a brief lesson, intended only to impart the basics of the sport, to help Matthew become acquainted with the feeling of being in the saddle. Gabriel dismounted at last, and moved to help Matthew down.
Impulsively, Matthew leaned over in the saddle and threw his arms around Gabriel’s neck and said, “Thank you, sir, for my pony!”
Sir. Claire pressed her hand over her heart, which felt as though it were shattering in her chest. Gabriel should have been so much more thansirto his son.
For a moment, Gabriel stilled. One did not embrace a nobleman, after all—especially not a servant’s child. She had expected him to find such a display of affection awkward and distasteful, perhaps for him to gently rebuff Matthew’s affectionate gesture. Instead he returned it, carefully extricating Matthew from the saddle and holding him on his hip, balanced by the firm clasp of his arms.
“Mama!” Matthew shouted across the grass as Gabriel carried him toward her. “Did you see me? I rode!”
She dredged up a smile from somewhere, some hidden reserve of resolve she had secreted away inside herself. “I saw, darling,” she managed.
“A natural rider,” Gabriel said with a grin as they approached. “Like a duck to water, really. He’ll make a fine horseman.”
Of that, she had little doubt. Matthew had bloomed beneath Gabriel’s patient instruction, eager to learn and thrilled with the personal attention. “He must be heavy,” she said. “I can take him.” Probably he would want to surrender Matthew to her care, especially as he had one arm strung tightly around Gabriel’s neck.
“I have him,” Gabriel said, and cast her a speaking look, as if to communicate wordlessly that Matthew had not offended or discomfited him with his exuberance. “To the carriage?”
Claire nodded, grateful that Matthew served as a barrier between them on the walk back, grateful that the wind that burned her eyes and cheeks served to camouflage her riotous emotions.
Yes. Gabrieldidhave him at last.
As he always should have.
∞∞∞
As she had every night for the past several weeks, Claire lay in her bed in her own small room, having surrendered any attempt at sleep. Hours and hours had passed since she had left the nursery. It had become something of a ritual, in the weeks that had passed since Matthew had been in Gabriel’s home, for Claire to dismiss the nanny in the hour or so before bedtime and put him to bed herself. She had worried, at first, that Matthew would find this new residence frightening in its unfamiliarity. Instead he had fallen into the rhythm of the household with startling ease, adapting to his changed circumstances with aplomb.
Not for the first time, Claire found herself more than a touch regretful over all she had not been able to provide for him. It felt lowering to admit such a thing, to acknowledge that she could never have given Matthew a life such as the one he now enjoyed, full of toys and books and games, and a proper education—things that ought to have been his by right of birth, as a nobleman’s son and eventual heir to a dukedom.
It had become a cherished practice to read to him before bed, and as she had turned the pages of one of the copious amounts of children’s books with which the nursery had been supplied, Matthew’s avid gaze had soaked in the pictures rendered there. Books were a luxury she had never been able to afford, and it had torn at her heart when his small fingers had reached out to trace the images with a child’s reverence.
Once or twice she thought she had glimpsed Gabriel lingering just beyond the doorway, as if he too wished to partake in their nightly ritual. But he kept himself at a distance, perhaps because he was laboring beneath the misapprehension that he did not belong there, with them, as though he were a part of their family. A sharp sliver of guilt pierced her heart. He deserved to know hisson—not the son of his housekeeper, the boy for which he evinced a careful, tentative fondness, but the son he always ought to have known. And Matthew deserved to know his father.
Her stomach clenched with uncertainty. With no proof of her claim, so much would be left to chance. That she had kept her secret for so long would scarcely be to her credit. That she had let Gabriel suffer under the misunderstanding that his wife and child were dead would be worse. And if he thought she was simply preying upon him and his affliction—well, that would be the worst of all. He would be perfectly within his rights to eject both of them from his household, and it might very well be a death sentence for Matthew. He could not return to Anne’s care, to Spitalfields with its clouds of manufactory smoke that would play havoc with his sensitive lungs.
She had precious few resources remaining. What the duke had given her had been spent in providing for them the first year of Matthew’s life, and the rest had gone to pay for the doctors that Matthew’s fragile health had required.
Even if Gabriel determined her to be truthful, it did not confer with it an expectation of a return to their prior relationship. Children were innocent and easy to love—how much harder it would be to accept the woman who had kept his child from him, who hadcontinuedto keep his child from him through inaction.
It seemed such an impossible situation, a path full of thorns and briars that stretched out before her, where each step was laden with danger, with the inherent threat of scratching herself to ribbons. But she held the pieces of Gabriel’s past in her heart, the missing moments that haunted him. And it was still there inside her, all of the love she had thought she had smothered and buried. How could she ever have thought such a thing, when for years she had seen his face in the face of their son, whom she had loved with the whole of her heart?
