“Who was she?” Lydia asked. Victor continued eating, seemingly uninterested in the current course of conversation.
“Your grandmother. Agatha,” Theodore answered. He spoke Agatha’s name with reverence. His eyes sparkled. He looked as though he was speaking about a goddess. Lydia leaned forward, curious, as she had been unaware of the link between their families.
“Grandmother? I did not realize you knew each other. Victor, were you aware of this?” Lydia asked.
“Certainly not,” Victor muttered with the kind of tone that suggested it was the kind of thing he shouldn’t be bothered with even if he had been informed.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Theodore said, a forlorn look coming upon his face. He turned his glass around slowly, watching the movements, although Lydia had the sense that he was wading through his memories. “I was but a tiny speck of paint in her life while she was a masterpiece to me. I loved her. I courted her. I lost her,” he said. He sighed again.
His voice was tremulous with emotion, and he seemed to embody a deep-rooted sorrow, as though it was a companion he had carried with him for all his life. In those few brief sentences, he conveyed a tragedy, and Lydia found her heart moved by his plight. He had lived a long life, and yet what stayed with him was regret.
Would she feel that way when she was his age?
“I’m sorry, Uncle Theodore,” Lydia said earnestly.
“You don’t have to apologize, my dear. What’s past is past. I just wish things had been different,” he said.
“May I ask what happened?”
“She chose another life. That is all that matters. From what I understand, she was happy, and I’m glad for it.” There was no bitterness in Theodore’s tone, just regret. His gaze settled on Lydia and Victor. “If one ever finds the love of their life, they must do all they can to hold onto that other person. I understand why you took a swift route to marriage. It’s best not to waste time,” Theodore said.
It wasn’t long after this that Theodore departed. While Lydia was eager to check on John, she was also intrigued by a few things that had been mentioned over the course of dinner. Victor had his valet fetch his jacket, intending to escort his uncle home.
“Does he always get like that?” Lydia asked.
“Sometimes, but not often,” Victor replied. “I wouldn’t pay much attention to him. He has always been the romantic sort.”
“Perhaps I should ask Grandmother to come for a visit. They could be reunited,” Lydia suggested, filled with dreams of a happy ending to a love story that spanned decades. However, Victor poured cold water on that idea immediately.
“And have her break his heart again? I think once in a lifetime is enough,” he said. He was about to leave, but Lydia made him pause.
“Victor, what did he mean about Lord Harry?”
Victor pressed his lips together and spoke quickly.
“It is not something that I am keen to talk about, but in the interest of equal partnership, I shall tell you although you must keep it a secret. My brother fell in love with someone he shouldn’t have. She was merely a commoner.” It looked as though he had to force himself to say the word, and he practically shuddered, as if it caused him great pain to do so. “Thankfully, he saw sense, and the affair ended. He had dreams of romance as well, but such a thing would have torn down this family. He is upset with me, and that is why he remained in London. But that matter is behind us, and we need speak of it no longer. Now, I must make sure Uncle gets home without trouble. He cannot hold his port as well as he used to.”
Victor left, and Lydia thought about what he’d said. Lord Harry loved someone beneath his station. Theodore had an unrequited love.
What about Victor? Had his life truly been devoid of romance, or was there something lurking in the shadows?
Lydia went upstairs and crept into John’s chamber. He was sleeping soundly, and she was careful not to disturb him. She turned her head, looking at him from different angles to see if she could spot any resemblance to Victor. There were moments when she thought she could, but she might have been tricking herself.
However, it did make her think about things differently. So far, they had been preoccupied with finding John’s mother. But what about his father? He had to have one of those as well.
Was it Victor, or was there some man walking around London without any idea that he had a child?
Chapter Sixteen
“Please John, calm down,” Lydia said.
The baby was crying again although this time the cause was not a mystery. He had dirtied himself and needed changing, but it happened to be his bathtime anyway, and the maids were drawing one for him. Lydia was prepared to cope with this by herself. When she was rested and had a full stomach, it was easier to manage the crying. Georgia was nowhere to be seen at the moment.
The door opened, and Lydia assumed it was Georgia.
“You can help bathe him if you like, but he doesn’t need a feeding. I think you can smell what’s wrong,” Lydia said.
“I did not come here to feed the boy. I came here to see if I could help quieten him down. He is creating a racket, and it’s impossible to think,” Victor said.
