“A letter came this morning,” Nellie said. “Harriet is teething, and the less said about their son, Frederick, the better.”
“Still a handful?”
“But his father sees it as a sign of a strong character.”
“Jason was a handful, and he turned out well. I believe he and Beverly’s little Sarah will be a beauty.”
Nellie nodded. “She has her mother’s beautiful eyes.”
She glanced at her mama-in-law, who had sagged back in the chair. She would have to go inside soon. Catherine grew tired more easily these days. They had been thrilled to have her with them for far longer than expected but knew as Dr. Chapman predicted, she was coming to the end of her life. “Nathaniel and Eliza are to visit us next week with their two girls. It will be good to see them.”
“Yes. You know, Nellie. I meant to talk to you about Charles, and I should not let it go too long.”
Nellie tamped down the chill, which flooded through her. “About Charles?”
“He and his brother Michael were only ten months apart. They were always very close. Jason was so much younger, he wasn’t around for much of that time.” She sighed. “They were as thick as thieves. Charles adored Michael. When his brother fell ill, Charles tried everything he could to make him well again. Brought in doctors from abroad, read everything written about the disease, but in the end, none of it helped. It hit Charles very hard when Michael died. He changed from a happy young man to a more sober, cautious one. And then his father died. He had not wanted to believe he would one day be duke. He hadn’t been trained to it. Taking the role was hard on him. He takes his position very seriously.” She smiled at Nellie. “Why am I telling you now? Because he will suffer when I go. And I wanted you to know how very grateful I am that he has you to turn to, my dearest girl.”
“Oh, Catherine, dear,” Nellie murmured in a broken voice.
“Now, don’t cry, please, Charles is coming. He mustn’t see your tears.”
Nellie hastily smoothed them away with her hands.
“Well, what have we here?” Charles crossed the lawn to them.
“We thought we’d have tea outside, it’s such a lovely, warm day,” Nellie said with a smile.
“After such an unusually cold spring,” his mother said. “So cold, and those keen east winds!”
Charles sat on the blanket beside them. He raised Nellie’s hand and kissed her inky fingers. “Another poem, my love?”
“No, I’m writing an article for the newspaper. I am concerned about the lack of constables on the streets around Covent Garden. The prostitutes are not protected well enough from men’s violence. Something must be done.”
“Mm? A little controversial, perhaps?”
“Now, Charles,” his mother said with laugher in her voice. “You know you shall allow it, as you have all the others that Nellie sent off to the press.”
“Too true, Mama.” He cast Nellie a lazily seductive look, which always made her want him.
“Bart has fallen asleep.” She rose to pick up her sleepy son.
“Mama?” Charles held out his hand to his mother. “Shall we go in?”
She took his arm and leaned heavily against him. “These have been such happy times, Charles.”
“Yes, indeed, Mama.” His gaze found Nellie’s, and she saw the sadness in them. Happy times and sad awaited them. She sighed. But that was life.
*
At the conclusionof the evening, Charles entered Nellie’s bedchamber. She turned to look at him from her seat before the mirror.
“You may go, Lucy,” he ordered Nellie’s new maid. He stood for a moment, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. She cast him a playful smile while continuing to brush out her long locks. She began to plait it.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Nellie asked huskily.
He slowly shook his head. “Uh-uh.”
