He did not stop when he entered the room but staunchly ignored Julius and continued to bang the ball against the expensive silk wallpaper.
Julius sat down on the bed beside him. “She is awake and fine.”
The ball dropped to the floor. “Mama?”
Julius nodded. “She will recover. She says you must continue your studies, or else she will be very cross.”
The boy’s face contorted. His eyes filled with tears, and he buried his face in his elbow, sniffling.
Julius stared at him helplessly for a moment, then reached out awkwardly and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Hector wrapped his arms around him and wept loudly into his chest. “I thought she was going to die and go away. Like Papa Simon.”
“I know. I know,” Julius said thickly. “I thought so too.”
He allowed the boy to finish crying, then tucked him into bed and brushed a strand of dark hair out of his face. The emotion he felt for the boy was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Catherine was one thing, but this boy, this child, was his. He felt a fierce protectiveness, pride, and love for the boy.
“Sleep now,” he said. “Everything will be well.”
He went to the door.
Shortly before he reached it, Hector called out, “Your Grace.”
“Yes?”
There was a pause, then so quietly that he thought he’d misheard, “May I call you Papa?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
A miracle had occurred.
The Duchess of Aldingbourne had been involved in a horrific accident but had miraculously escaped with nothing more than a bump on the head.
Now she sat in the morning room, wrapped in a blanket, the sun streaming through the windows. Her children had just left her. She’d been cosseted, reprimanded, hugged and kissed, and made to swear that she would never cross the street alone again.
After they had gone, Lena leaned her head against the sofa, savouring the warmth of the sun on her face.
“I’d like to have a moment with you, if you please.” Julius’s voice penetrated her thoughts.
She opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her, looking down at her with a soft expression in his eyes.
She smiled faintly. “I thought you’d already left.”
“I postponed the meeting.” He pulled up a chair and sat across from her.
“You’ve had to postpone a lot of meetings lately because of me,” Lena said.
He waved a hand dismissively. “It is of no consequence. You are more important to me than any of that.” His voice was rough.
Her eyes flew up to meet his, searching. “Am I?”
His face was a study in emotions. What had happened to the cold, emotionless, stiff Duke she’d always thought he was?
He leaned forwards and took her hands, opening and closing his mouth as he visibly searched for words. “Yes, you are. More than words can say.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I have been meaning to talk to you about us, about the truth of our past long before this latest accident.”
She kept looking at him steadily and he continued.
“The truth is what happened back then was my fault. You were very young and lonely, and I was too absorbed in my own world to notice. I was oblivious to your feelings. I was a fool,” he said bitterly. “You were unhappy, and I did not see it, and I did not try hard enough to understand what might have made you run away that day. The diary later helped me understand. There was nothing in it, no record about what had gone through your mind to make you decide on such a course of action. I questioned the servants, and eventually something came to light.”
