Inhaling deeply, he nudged Jupiter into an easy gait. This was Suffolk. No court case waited for him in the morning. He had no reason to rush besides his own desire for cleanliness. But that could wait. Of greater importance was taking time to stop and look – to truly admire the beauty of his surroundings – and to appreciate just how privileged he was to be able to come here.
Perhaps burying himself in work was the wrong approach. He’d done it as a means to escape the memories of the war and of Clara, but maybe there ought to be more of a balance. Maybe he should pay more attention to Michael – figure out who he was besides being his son, and offer more guidance.
James blew out a breath. Was he to blame for this business with Mrs. Petersen? He’d taken Michael to the Pennington ball, but since the scandal, he’d stayed away from social functions. Michael had been left to the company of friends he’d known from university, and whoever else he’d met with when he wasn’t at home. And without James really being aware of what his son got up to, it had been nearly impossible to guide him. Certainly not with regard to romance. In fact, the more James thought on it, the more he decided he’d done his son a terrible disservice. He should have taken him out more and made sure he recognized what sort of woman would make a good match.
After all, his closest female role model had been his mother.
Christ.
James shook his head. It was time for him to pull himself together. He needed to push his work aside and give his son the attention he obviously needed.
A feminine laugh, bubbling with mirth, intruded upon his thoughts.
Instinctively, James swung Jupiter toward it and frowned. It was probably one of the farm girls who lived nearby since the nearest gentry were a good five miles in the opposite direction. And if she was frolicking about with a local lad, it was none of James’s business. She’d laughed, after all, not screamed or shouted for help.
He prepared to resume his homeward trek when a body popped out from between the tall grass. James’s heart jolted. He’d recognize Michael anywhere, even at a distance of roughly twenty yards. And if he’d decided to work through his frustration by taking advantage of one of his father’s tenants, James would give the boy a thrashing the likes of which he’d never experienced before.
Increasingly incensed, he started toward his son. Michael hadn’t seen him yet. He was too busy tucking his shirt into his trousers. Another person stood and James nearly fell from his horse. Good God. It couldn’t be. And yet, there was no mistaking the identity of the woman who tried to put herself back in order. Mrs. Petersen, the very woman James had tried to remove his son from by coming all the way here, smoothed her rumpled skirts and pulled her bodice back into a more acceptable position.
Rage, hot and swift, tore up James’s back and heated his neck until it burned. “What the hell is going on?”
Michael turned, eyes wide with surprise, shock, and horror while Mrs. Petersen clutched her discarded spencer against her like a shield. Good. They deserved to be scared.
Jaw clamped so hard his teeth hurt, James dismounted, grabbed the reins, and stalked toward them. He glared at Michael, then at Mrs. Petersen, and back at Michael. “Well?”
“I came upon her by chance when I was returning home from my ride,” Michael said. He was doing his best to keep his chin up and his eyes fixed on James.
A twinge of pride shoved its way past James’s defenses. He steeled himself against it. “And so you chose to ignore my dictate in favor of a good tup, is that it?”
Michael’s cheeks flushed, but he did not avert his gaze even as Mrs. Petersen gasped. Instead he raised his chin higher. “I love her, Papa.”
“Then you’re a damned fool, Michael.” James leaned forward and stared into Michael’s brown eyes with penetrating force. “The fact that she would spread her legs for you in a field for all the world to see makes her no better than her whore of a mother.”
The blow Michael dealt to his cheek caught James off guard. He knew he’d been unacceptably crass, especially with Mrs. Petersen there to overhear, but he’d not expected Michael to punch him. If his stunned expression was any indication, Michael shared James’s surprise. Not that the punch was undeserved. James just hadn’t thought his son capable of resorting to violence. Once again, he’d underestimated him.
“Where are you staying, Mrs. Petersen?” James inquired while rubbing his cheek. He’d address Michael’s rebellious streak later. And then he’d have to teach him how to deliver a proper punch – the sort that would knock a man off his feet.
“A mile from here,” she said, her voice quivering. “With my mother.”
James snorted. Of course Mrs. Lawson had a part in all this. James gave his attention back to Michael. “Take Jupiter back to the house. Wash up and get yourself ready for dinner. I’ll escort Mrs. Petersen home.”
“But—”
“If it’s a fight you want, Michael, I should warn you that my blows are a hell of a lot harder than yours.”
“I don’t trust you to be alone with her,” Michael said, not budging one inch, “so,Ishall be escorting her home as well.”
Michael’s point was valid. Considering how Mrs. Petersen clutched Michael’s arm now, the woman was clearly terrified of him. And rightly so, James had to admit, although he would never lay his hands on her. But he supposed words could be hurtful too, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to insult her further. He was simply too livid.
“Fine. We’ll all go. Mrs. Petersen, please lead the way.”
Shame burned Michael to the core as he trudged across the field. Gripping his horse’s reins, he pulled the beast along, thankful for the shield it provided between himself and his father.
Lord, he couldn’t believe he’d actually struck him, but neither could he fathom the vehemence with which his father had spoken. The words had blinded him with rage and in a split second, he’d lost all sense of reason.
Heart pounding, he ground his teeth together while Cynthia gripped his arm, her forceful hold indicative of her need for support and assurance. Well, Michael decided. He’d not deny her. Not after this last altercation.
“When I offered marriage,” he whispered, “you accepted. Do you stand by that decision?”
