“Then they might have died in London instead.” She tightened her arms around him. “Or they might have been miserable, trapped in a world that looked down on Jane for her birth. You cannot know, Edward. You cannot rewrite history based on might-have-beens.”
He turned in her arms, facing her. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her expression open and unguarded.
“Leonard told me some things.” She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “About your father. About the way you were raised. But I didn’t know the full extent. I did not know about your mother, or about the night she left.” Her thumbs traced his cheekbones. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I did not want to become him.” Edward’s voice emerged rough. “My father. I did not want my marriage to be what his was. Cold and bitter and destroying everyone it touched.” He closed his eyes. “That is why I kept my distance and why I was so afraid to let you in. Because I thought that wanting you, needing you, would only lead to pain.”
“Edward.” Sophia waited until he opened his eyes. “You are not your father.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because you care.” Her voice was steady, certain. “Because you try. Your father demanded perfection and gave nothing in return. You have spent weeks learning to open your heart, to connect with Oliver, to let me in despite how terrifying it must be.” She smiled, soft and sad. “The very fact that you are afraid of becoming him proves that you never will.”
He stared at her, this woman who had seen his worst and chosen to stay. Who had listened to his darkest confessions and offered comfort instead of condemnation.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Perhaps not.” Her smile turned mischievous. “But you are stuck with me, nonetheless.”
A laugh escaped him, unexpected and raw. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, his face buried in her hair, his heart pounding against her ribs.
“Thank you.” He whispered the words against her temple. “For listening. For understanding. For being here.”
“Always.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I will always be here.”
They stood together in the fading light, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift.
CHAPTER 35
“Look, Uncle Edward! Ducks!”
Oliver tugged at Edward’s hand, straining toward the Serpentine like a hound on a leash. The afternoon sun dappled through the trees, casting shifting patterns across the path. Hyde Park bustled with fashionable Londoners taking advantage of the fine weather, but Oliver had eyes only for the waterfowl paddling near the shore.
“I see them.” Edward allowed himself to be pulled along. “They are very fine ducks.”
“Can I feed them? Mrs. Palmer brought bread.” Oliver bounced on his toes. “Please?”
Edward glanced at Mrs. Palmer, who produced a small paper parcel from her bag. “Stay where I can see you.”
Oliver snatched the bread and raced toward the water’s edge, Mrs. Palmer following at a more dignified pace. Edward watched them go, something warm settling in his chest at the sight of the boy’s unbridled joy.
Sophia appeared at his elbow, her arm slipping through his. “He is happy.”
“He is.” Edward covered her hand with his own. “We should bring him here more often.”
They walked along the path, keeping Oliver in sight while maintaining enough distance to give Mrs. Palmer room to manage her charge. The park hummed with conversation and laughter, the distant clip of horses on Rotten Row, the calls of vendors selling ices and lemonade.
Sophia leaned into his side. “This is nice.”
“It is.” Edward smiled. These past weeks had changed something fundamental in him. The constant tension had eased. The walls he had so carefully built had crumbled. And in their place, something new was growing. Something fragile and precious and terrifying in its intensity.
He glanced at Sophia, at the way the sunlight caught the copper threads in her hair, at the curve of her smile. She was beautiful. She was his. And he wanted her with a ferocity that still surprised him.
“Come with me.” He tugged her off the main path, toward a cluster of trees that offered a screen from prying eyes.
“Edward.” She laughed as he pulled her into the shadows. “What are you doing?”
“Staying where I can see Oliver.” He backed her against a tree trunk, his hands settling on her waist. “While also taking advantage of a rare moment alone with my wife.”
