Now he saw clearly what his punishment was. At twenty-two, he had never imagined finding a woman who gave him the pleasure Diana did, or that he would feel the lack of children. He had lost far more on Mull than he had realized, and now he felt a new and piercing grief for that old loss.
There was the possibility of illegitimate children, but the usual precautions had proved effective so far, and he would wish bastardy on no child of his. Treacherously, his mind speculated on whether his wife would live to a great age. Perhaps in the drafty cold cottages of Scotland she would take a chill and leave him free....
He frowned, appalled at thinking such a thing. The girl had been an unfortunate pawn, caught between two men, one drunk and one mad. She did not deserve his ill will.
Sensitive to Gervase’s dark silence, Geoffrey asked no more questions. The damp chill was increasing, and Gervase was glad the ride was almost over.
As they came in sight of the stables, they both recognized Diana’s waiting figure as she stood in front of the double doors, a deep blue cloak falling in graceful folds around her. Geoffrey announced, “Mama is not happy.”
Gervase also saw the tension in her stance. “I’ll talk to her. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”
“It will be all right,” Geoffrey said tranquilly. “Mama says it isn’t natural to expect someone to be good all the time.”
The philosophical words sounded so exactly like Diana that Gervase’s black mood broke, and he was smiling as they pulled up in front of her. “Good morning, Mrs. Lindsay,” he said, as if they hadn’t been sharing bed and bodies three hours earlier. “I hope you will forgive me for forcing your son to accompany me. It was a long ride, and I wished for company.”
Diana nodded, her expression unreadable. Gervase dismounted, then lifted Geoffrey to the ground, where the boy hurled himself at his mother, grabbing her hand and chattering about the marvelous time he had had and the things he had seen and how horses were even finer than he had imagined.
Interesting that even though he knew he’d displeased her, Geoffrey went to his mother with the confidence of a child who had never been rejected. Gervase realized that he was painfully jealous, envious that the boy received so much love that he never doubted its existence. If Diana gave so much warmth to her son, the amount she had for her lover would be diminished.
For one of her lovers.The words echoed harshly in his mind. Gervase assumed that he had favored status, but he was merely one of the men in her life. Of course she loved her son more. Lovers might come and go, but children stayed. It was grotesque to be so envious of a child, a boy who was probably a bastard, who had a serious affliction, one whose mother was only a high-grade whore, and who faced a doubtful future.
And yet he was jealous. What would it have been like to run to Medora Brandelin knowing that he would always be welcome, sins and all? Not to have to wonder about his mother’s moods, about whether she would be so absorbed in her latest lover that she had no time for her son, or whether she would have one of her brief attacks of maternal feeling and would demand homage of him?
Such thoughts had no place in the mind of a grown man, and Gervase hated himself for the weakness. His face rigidly controlled, he handed the reins of his horse over to a groom.
As Geoffrey paused for breath, Diana smiled at him. “Edith is looking for you, my dear. Remember, Mr. Hardy said you must do lessons every day or you will fall behind in school.”
Geoffrey wrinkled his nose but said obediently, “Yes, Mama.”
She brushed her hand across his hair tenderly. “Run along, then. I’ll join you for tea. I want to talk to Lord St. Aubyn.”
Blithely unaware of undercurrents, Geoffrey took his leave and scampered across the stableyard toward the house. Gervase watched him go, and as silent penance for his own irrational jealousy, vowed to help the boy get what he wanted.
Diana turned to him, her face grave. “Shall we walk in the gardens? Even at this season, they look quite beautiful.”
He nodded and offered his arm, and they strolled around the house to the vast and varied gardens. Though the flower beds slept in winter and the ground was iron hard beneath their feet, the Aubynwood grounds were still lovely. They passed the maze, then the topiary garden, where yew bushes were sculptured into whimsical shapes. As they walked, Diana’s hand on his arm relaxed. “I’m sorry Geoffrey disturbed you. I’ll try to keep him out of your way.”
“No need to apologize,” Gervase said. “I found him to be very good company. Please don’t be angry with him for riding. He said that you wouldn’t approve, but I persuaded him.”
Her fingers tightened again. “I’m not angry.” She glanced up, her lapis-blue eyes obscured beneath her long dark lashes, then said in a rush of words, “I know that it’s wrong of me to be so protective of Geoffrey. It isn’t right that he always be surrounded and pampered by women. But I am so frightened when I think of what might happen.”
While Gervase couldn’t possibly know the full depth of fear that came with being a parent, she saw understanding on his face as he considered her words. As they passed from the knot garden to the parterre, he said, “Everyone who rides gets thrown occasionally, and there is some chance of injury. But since you say Geoffrey has very few fits, the danger for him is not much greater than for other children learning to ride. I survived despite my occasional seizures.”
“I know you’re right.” Diana swallowed and looked down at the gravel path that crunched beneath their feet. “And I know that if he doesn’t learn to ride and do the other things that boys do, he will never have the kind of life I want for him. Even so . . .” She stopped, then said, “It isn’t just thegrand malseizures. They are uncommon, but the staring spells are more frequent. He might easily fall from a horse then.”
“Then he must learn to fall properly.”
Diana turned to Gervase, her face indecisive. He stopped also and took her hands, holding them between his. “You’ll be here several weeks—let him learn the basics of horsemanship. I’ll teach him myself if you like. There will never be a better time. He’s a good age to begin learning, and your fears aren’t likely to be any less in the future.”
As she hesitated, he added persuasively, “There is some risk, but life is full of risks. Even though he is obedient now, eventually he will resent you if you try to hold him too close. Isn’t that a danger as great as any physical one?”
She bowed her head and nodded, staring down at their joined hands as her chilled fingers warmed between his palms. Gervase’s words forced her to face thoughts she would rather ignore. Would it be a blessing or a disaster to let the most important males in her life get to know each other better?
She consulted her intuition, but her emotions were too involved for her to get a clear answer. Geoffrey might be hurt riding, yet he craved the attention of a grown man so much. How could she deny it to him when Gervase was willing?
Sensing that she was wavering, Gervase said softly, “I won’t let any harm come to him, Diana.”
“You are very good,” she said in a low voice. “Much better than I deserve.”
