“Yes.” Mother had moved back to Italy not long after Gaia was born because she hated England and wanted to be in Florence.
“Your mother and I have always shared a deep love,” his father explained. “It was because of passion that we separated so often.”
Angelo frowned. “That makes no sense. Why separate yourself from someone you are passionate about?”
His father chuckled. “Our passion was strong, so strong that when we reunited, we did not leave our chamber for days.”
Angelo held up his hand. He did not want to hear details of his parents and passion.
“With such passion comes emotions. For weeks things would be wonderful, but then independence would emerge. When your mother and I knew we were nearing fighting with as much passion as we loved, we separated so as not to bring bitterness into the marriage.”
He did recall when they’d arrive in Florence, or mother in Kent, that his parents would disappear for a few days leaving him and Gaia in the care of the servants. Then they would emerge and the four of them would spend the days together picnicking, flying kites, gathering greenery, and all manner of activities while enjoying being a family until they separated once again. On reflection, he realized those separations always occurred after his mother would become short and sometimes snap at his father, and Father became grumpy and growly, which was how Angelo had described him as a boy.
He now knew the reason.
“Love is important in a marriage, but passion is vital if you are to be happy.”
He shared neither with Lady Briana, nor did he have stirrings of desires. They were barely friends who were required to wed at this juncture in their lives, therefore they’d settled on the other. Settled!
Angelo always anticipated that his marriage would be such and had been content with that decision—until he met Octavia.
“Unfortunately, I cannot wed the woman that I do love and with whom I share a great passion.”
His father pulled back in surprise. “Why not marry her? Unless she is already wed.”
“She was once. She is now a widow.”
“I hope it is not because you want a virgin bride because that is rather hypocritical coming from you of all people,” his father snorted.
“No,” Angelo answered. “Her previous marriage was of ten years, and she never conceived while her husband managed to father three bastards while married to her. She is barren.” Angelo poured a cup of tea from the service that sat upon the small table. He needed to cover the sudden onset of emotion when thinking of Octavia and the pain of not being able to have her. “I will be honest, Father. If I did not have the duty of an heir and hopefully a spare, I would forget Lady Briana and take the widow to Gretna Green at the first opportunity.”
“The widow? What is her name? I have not heard of a widow linked with your name in some time.”
“We are very discreet, and I will not have it bandied about for her reputation to be tarnished.”
“Perhaps the husband was too busy spilling his seed into mistresses that he didn’t visit his wife’s bed often enough.”
Angelo snorted, and he wished that was the case, but it was not. “He came to her weekly out of duty.”
“Theirs was not a love match.”
“An immature infatuation mistaken as love. She married at eighteen.”
“Do you love her so much?”
Angelo was startled at his mother’s voice. How long had she been standing there? He would have said nothing had he known she was there.
“Yes, I do.” He cleared his throat and looked away as emotion nearly overwhelmed him. “But, even if I were able to marry her, which I am not, she would not have me. She lost her freedom once before and will not relinquish it again.”
“Not even for love?” she asked softly.
Angelo wasn’t certain. The words had never been spoken between them. Theirs was an agreement. He was to be her rake for the Season and nothing more. He was the one who had fallen in love. Octavia may have only fallen in lust and would retain fond memories and nothing more when she left London at the end of the Season.
“Son, there is no guarantee that Lady Briana will provide you with sons either,” his father said.
He’d not considered the possibility. Angelo always assumed that whomever he wed would give birth to the necessary son.
“It was likely the widow’s husband had expected a son when he wed as well. Nobody knows the turns of fate we will suffer or enjoy,” his mother said. “Was her husband titled and in need of an heir?”
