“But I wanted the gown. You should have told me why.”
Sam screamed and raced across the room, throwing himself at me with a toothy grin. I brushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed his warm cheek. The familiar shape of his eyes, so much like Sally’s, cut me to the core. “Go play with your brother,” I said.
He tore across the room, oblivious to the seriousness of our conversation.
“I could never admit to anyone outside our family that your sister took her own life. Or that the gown represented the happiest day of her life.” The lines around her mouth were pinched, and she seemed to shrink into herself. She never released my hand, and I could feel a slight quiver in her grip. “It was a small shrine to my little girl who suffered greatly.”
I began to slip my hand from beneath hers, trying to articulate my words. The possibility I would suffer the same fate as my mother and sister was very real. “If you and Sally both fell into a dark state after the birth of your children, then I have a right to know. I’m your child too.”
She held fast onto my hand, her grip strong and determined. “It is a burden women bear. It doesn’t happen to all women. You might be different.”
“Or I might be the same.”
Horror twisted her features, and she shook her head. “I learned my lesson with Sally. I will not let you come to the same fate. You may think I hate you, but I love you, Amelia. I might not like you at times, but I will always love you.”
I smiled at her quip and took it in the spirit in which it was intended. “We’ve been at odds long enough. I say we find some common ground and take that path from here on out.”
“Noah must be told. The time for hiding the truth is over,” she said, exhaling a shaky breath.
Noah, who I loved but who couldn’t trust me. I brought his disdain on myself, and although Oliver assured me that the storm would pass, I wasn’t as confident as he was.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lord Noah Peterson
The kite caught the wind as I braced my feet on the soft turf. I tilted my head back to watch the red and gold kite take flight. Ethan shouted his happiness, manipulating the strings as I taught him. I envied his lighthearted spirit. Mine was heavy since I’d discovered the diary.
It was a cloudy day with a healthy wind, perfect for kite flying. A flash of movement caught my eye, and I spied two women walking across the green. Lady Ellen and Amelia. Together. The last time I’d seen them both, they’d been quarreling. By the way their arms were linked, they’d made up. I wish I could forgive them as easily.
“Auntie Amelia,” Ethan yelled, rushing toward her. The kite jerked at his sudden movement.
“Watch the kite,” I warned him, regretting the bite in my barked order.
He stopped in mid-run and threw his head back, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. “Sorry, Papa.”
“It is quite all right, Ethan. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” I adjusted the brim of my hat, trying to gain control over my short temper. “Lady Amelia, Lady Ellen.” As a duchess, Amelia’s title earned her the higher honor.
“I was certain we would find you here,” Amelia said, offering me a tentative smile, a question in her eyes. I averted my gaze,unable to look at her without a riot of emotions rushing through me. It was the reason I managed to avoid her every time she came to call.
Oliver had taken to bringing Ethan over to his house so the boy could continue to see Amelia. No matter how upset I was with her, I would never deny her access to my sons.
“Ethan likes to fly his kite.” Mundane conversation would fill the void in my heart. Oliver’s reading of the diary had cut out a piece of my soul, one I desperately wanted back. Amelia had warned me, and I understood why, but it didn’t make what she had done less painful. “Did you have a nice visit with the twins?” I asked.
“I did. Mother and I, well, Mother and I...” Amelia glanced between Lady Ellen and me, her eyes liquid with unshed tears. Since the end of her official mourning, she’d been wearing bright colors, and the rich navy hue of her gown enhanced her pale skin. I didn’t want to notice, except it was hard to forget how much I had desired her. I still did, which was even more troubling.
