“On the contrary,” he said, his voice dispassionate. “I am the one who is undeserving.”
She glanced up then, wondering what thoughts lay behind that austerely handsome face. When she had first seen him at Harriette Wilson’s, she had been both attracted and frightened by his aura of tightly focused power. She had soon discovered that he was quite different from what she expected, that behind that cool mask lay a man who could be both generous and sensitive. Yet she was always surprised by his kindness, perhaps because she never expected kindness from men.
He might never speak words of love, but his deeds, his protectiveness and reliability, were far more precious. She was glad that he was worthy of love, for she could not help loving him. Standing on her toes, she kissed him lightly. She lingered a moment, feeling his lips warming under hers, then withdrew and whispered, “Thank you, Gervase.”
He had such beautiful eyes, light and clear like winter sky. Gervase was an honorable man and she was behaving less than honorably to him. Once more, she considered revealing her past.
Once more, in her fear of destroying the sweetness of the moment, the opportunity passed.
Chapter Thirteen
Since time was limited and the weather unlikely to improve, the riding lessons began that very afternoon. After consulting with his head groom, the viscount arranged to borrow a well-trained, docile pony from a tenant whose children had outgrown it. His face taut with excitement, Geoffrey was thrilled speechless, a state Gervase didn’t expect to last long.
On the viscount’s advice, Diana was not present for a lesson that could only be nerve-racking for her. They started in the barn, with hay piled belly-deep around the pony. As Dapple munched in contentment, Geoffrey practiced falling, learning how to tuck his body and roll, how to relax and minimize the chances of injury. The boy took it as great good sport, hurling himself down into the hay with squeals of delight, until tumbling into a ball started to become habit.
The next stage was learning to hold a secure seat, and Gervase made the boy bend, twist, and turn in every direction. The trick was to stay in the saddle without touching the reins. Inevitably Geoffrey sometimes bent too far, which gave him more chances to practice falling.
After an hour and a half, Gervase judged that his hay-covered student had had enough for the first day, and they repaired to the nursery for tea with the rest of the party. The next day they progressed to walking the pony around the paddock, with part of the path through an area padded with hay. Gervase would unpredictably push the boy off on some of the circuits. The hay was thinner than it had been inside, and the falling not as soft, but Geoffrey took it all with undiminished enthusiasm.
The viscount had originally offered the lessons as a way of expiating his guilty conscience, but he found he enjoyed them almost as much as Geoffrey. It was impossible not to respect the child’s resilience and good nature, and Gervase was beginning to appreciate him in his own right, rather than just as Diana’s son. It was even possible to forget the nagging questions about the boy’s father, and what that man had meant to Diana.
Watching his student carefully, Gervase observed several of the staring spells, when Geoffrey’s eyes would slip out of focus and his words would stop in midsentence if he was speaking. Fortunately for his riding future, his body didn’t slacken and his knees and hands remained firm through the duration of the spells. Unless he was moving at a gallop, thepetit malseizures might never cause a significant problem. Perhaps not even then, though jumping would be a different story.
With a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, the viscount realized that the boy was starting to develop a kind of hero worship for his teacher, striving to please, repeating his words to others, even copying gestures and movements. Since Geoffrey had no father, it was natural for him to become attached to a man whom he saw much of. Gervase felt heartily unfit for a pedestal, but supposed he could appear worthy for the length of this holiday.
The first lessons were held in the early afternoon, when the day was apt to be warmest, but the day before Christmas they went out in the morning so Geoffrey could help gather greens later. That session gave Gervase a brief, horrifying glimpse of what Diana had lived with for years.
Geoffrey was making rapid progress, and this morning Gervase held the pony with a long rein, directing it in circles first to the right, then to the left. They were halfway through the lesson when Geoffrey said, very distinctly, “Damn!” He pulled on his snaffle reins, then slid from the pony’s saddle as it halted.
Before Gervase could question why he had stopped, Geoffrey’s body arched back in the first stage of seizure, hurling him onto the soft ground as he made horrible gagging sounds. The other time he had been present at a seizure, Gervase had been a spectator. This time he was the only person around, and responsible for the boy’s welfare.
Yelling for a groom, he released the startled pony and raced across the paddock to Geoffrey’s side. Although he knew the fit was unlikely to harm the boy, it was impossible not to feel primitive panic at the sight of the violent convulsion. There was nothing he could do but wait until the seizure was over and ensure that Geoffrey didn’t hit anything that would injure him.
After a minute or so, Geoffrey relaxed and his breathing returned to normal. The change was so dramatic that it was easy to understand why seizures had been considered demonic possession in the old days. The deep blue eyes were dazed, but the boy knew what had happened. Apologetically he murmured, “I’m sorry, sir.” The long dark lashes, so like Diana’s, fluttered. “If you help me back on Dapple, I’ll do better.”
As an example of pluck, it was hard to beat. Swallowing the tightness in his throat, Gervase brushed at the dirt on the boy’s face, then said casually, as if having a lesson interrupted by a fit was perfectly normal, “I think that’s enough for this morning, old man. If you don’t get some rest, you might miss the Christmas Eve celebration.”
Still hazy, Geoffrey nodded agreeably as the viscount scooped him up and carried him back to the house. The boy had slipped into a doze by the time they reached the nursery. As Gervase was laying him on his bed, Diana arrived, alerted by a servant, her eyes wide with apprehension. Gervase said reassuringly, “Nothing to worry about. He just had a seizure, not a riding accident. A little rest and he’ll be fine.”
Relaxing, Diana took charge of preparing her son for bed as Gervase left to wait for her in the old schoolroom next door. After ten minutes she emerged, no longer alarmed but with signs of strain in her face.
He took advantage of the fact that no one was around to give her a quick comforting hug. “Something very interesting happened. Apparently Geoffrey knew he was going to have a fit. He reined in the pony and dismounted before it began. If he can always do that, riding may be no more dangerous for him than for anyone else.”
“Really?” Diana’s eyebrows shot up. “He seems to be telling you things about his seizures that he never told me.” A slightly querulous note was in her musical voice.
“Perhaps he thinks he has already told you.” Gervase paused, remembering what Geoffrey had told him. “Or perhaps he hasn’t spoken because he knows you don’t like talking about his epilepsy.”
Diana’s jaw tightened as she faced the idea that her son was unwilling to discuss something with her. Gervase added gently, “Not because he is afraid of you, but because he doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s common to try to protect those one loves.”
It was very tactfully put. Diana slid an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. “You’re perceptive for a man with little experience of children.”
His arm tightened. “I don’t know about children in general, but Geoffrey and I seem to understand each other tolerably well.”
“I’m glad.” Without looking up at him, Diana asked hesitantly, “Do you ever think about having children yourself?”
He stiffened and pulled away from her. “I sincerely hope that this is a theoretical discussion?”
It took a moment for her to realize what he meant. Then she laughed and crossed the schoolroom to perch on one of the battered birch desks that generations of Brandelins had occupied.
