“Very well, marry off your sisters well, and your father and I will grant you your wishes as agreed upon, daughter.
“Yes, Mama.”
Matteo sat in the parlor of Valen House. His solicitor had sent a profusion of apologies for not being able to make it to their appointment, a personal emergency, he had said.
It was not a difficult matter for Matteo to set a new schedule for their agenda today. And he, being very satisfied with his solicitor’s work, was more than happy to accommodate him at another time.
But now, as he found himself quite alone, with more time on his hands than he knew what to do with—for the appointment was to last well until the evening, he poured a glass of brandy for himself. It was still quite early in the day, but as his time was now his, he excused himself.
He walked to the window, watching carriages and people pass by.
A tapping sound from the other window facing the gardens caught his attention. He walked towards it, wondering who could be tapping on the window and why.
Matteo grinned at the sight he saw.
A robin was repeatedly pecking on the panes of the window. It flitted about from pane to pane, repeating the movement.
“I have no worms for you, little robin,” he chuckled.
Not believing him, the robin continued with its activity. Matteo watched, as if enthralled, at the entertaining but futile task of the red-breasted bird. It was tireless, determined.
“Are you perhaps a mother robin looking for food for your chicks?”
He was reminded, unsurprisingly, of Helena Ayles. A mother to her sisters, as Dahlia had described her once. Indeed, seeing them in various situations, she had wondered why it was she and not their own mother, who performed those tasks. Then again, what did he know of what mothers were tasked with aside from birthing their children? He had no firsthand knowledge or experience of this, certainly not in terms of motherly affection.
Mother, look. It is you and Father.
The memory of his six-year-old self, proudly giving his mother a drawing that he had made of his parents, stole into his mind.She had looked at it for a few seconds, patted him on the head, and left without a word. He recalled the look of pity on his governess’s face.
Does she not like it? I tried so hard to make it look like them.
He forced the memory from out of his head, for if he let one slip in, others would surely follow.
No, he did not know what motherly duties or affections bestowed on their children felt like. Perhaps not every woman knew how to be a mother. And perhaps to some it came quite naturally. Like Helena’s protective care over her sisters, the way she accompanied Chastity everywhere.
I suppose that is one of the things that puzzles me about Helena Ayles.
“She may as well be her sisters’ mother.” Dahlia had said with censure aimed at the countess.
It seemed that she was tireless in her care for her sisters. A hollowness in him wanted to feel someone’s tireless care for him.
Matteo let out a long breath. He downed the remainder of his brandy in one gulp.
He must stop his woolgathering; it was making him maudlin.
His mind went back to Helena, to the thrill he felt when he was able to rile her. To the way her blue eyes turned fiery when she could not hold her temper back. He touched his cheek, remembering the slap she had bestowed there.
I deserved it, perhaps.
But the temporary sting had awoken a fire in him. It had been very fortunate that she had stormed off after that, for he wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her. To act, for once, on his rakish reputation.
He remembered how it had felt to have her close to him as they hid behind the hedge, her slim figure almost flush against his frame. The smell of her hair and of her skin was enough to distract him.
Before he could change his mind, he walked briskly to his study. Once there, he went to his desk and pulled out his writing implements.
He wanted something from Helena Ayles. He could not deny it any longer. But what it was, he was not entirely sure. He paused suddenly, thinking of his relationships with Peter and Dahlia.
“This will be complicated,” he said to himself. “I must tread with extra care.”
