“No, I would imagine not.” I replied, ignoring the slight in favor of honesty. “I should have been more sensitive to that hardship.”
“You should have. However, my manners were not always befitting someone of my circumstance.”
“Yes.”
She “humphed” at that, taking another sip of gin with a wince. “My sons are the most important things in the world to me.”
“I believe it.”
“I should like to remain in their lives. And any future grandchildren,” she explained.
“I believe Hugh made it clear that it is up to you.”
“Yes, the condition.” She swallowed thickly, draining the glass in a single gulp. “I apologize for my behavior and unkind comments.”
“Thank you,” I replied. And because I could not help myself, I added, “that’s the easy one taken care of.” That comment earned me a glare. I continued, “You know he financed the estate, don’t you. You must, you were not a child.”
“I have no idea of what or whom you are speaking.” Her tone had grown slightly colder, but I couldn’t help but press this advantage.
“He loves your sons too. It seems to be a trait you find admirable in me. Perhaps you would find it so in Michael.”
“Yes, well. Something to consider. I believe I feel a megrim coming on. Please be sure I am alerted when Hugh returns.”
“Of course. Agatha?” She paused in her retreat toward the door, not turning to face me.
“Yes?”
“What was Hugh’s father’s name?”
“Henry, why do you ask?”
“I just thought it might make a good name for a grandson some day.” That earned me a turn, her eyes were just slightly less beady with something like sentimentality.
“That would be lovely.”
“I hope your megrim improves quickly,” I offered.
She left me to return to my staring. And so I did, throughout morning, and afternoon, and into evening, when the rain began to slow, and finally clear.
And then, one minute the drive was clear, and the next, at the very end, almost too small to be believed, a dot appeared on the horizon. I blinked a few times, certain that exhaustion and desperation had willed an apparition into existence. But the dot grew. Eventually it formed a man.
And then I tossed open the doors, racing to the end of the drive because I knew. And when I threw myself into my husband’s arms, I felt that familiar warmth in my chest, just for him.
Forty-Four
THORNTON HALL, KENT – NOVEMBER 24, 1814
HUGH
The welcomealmost made the rats worth it. She was a little ball of fire against my chest; a soft, floral scented flame. And she feltsogoodin my arms.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” she replied, voice muffled into my chest. She squeezed me just a bit tighter.
“I missed you too.”
“You’re all right.” I could not resist pressing a kiss to the top of her head at that comment.
