“My sisters and I walk in the park together on the same day and at the same time every week.” It had begun as a way of getting his grieving sisters outside, a means of pouring sunshine on them, and hoping it decimated their shadows. A way to make them laugh. And live. Now he did it more for himself. Up ahead, Lottie and Andromeda and Prudence congregated, welcoming Felicity and Gertrude with hugs. And soon the twins would arrive. And for a few hours, it would be him and them once more, the colorful center of his entire damn world.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” he asked.
“A brother. We’re not terribly close.”
“Your parents are still living?”
“Yes. We’re not terribly close, either. We’re all an independent lot. Would rather be about our own business than worried about others.”
“Ah. Sensible.” Or cold.
“I am glad you understand.”
“But you do not feel… lonely?”
“I adore solitude.” She laughed. “You are frowning again.” Another laugh when he snapped his face into a more agreeable expression.
“It is only that I suppose I would be lonely without my sisters.” And were his parents still living, he’d… No. A bad path, that. “Your stepson… are you close to him?”
“Heavens, no.” She wrinkled her nose. “We rarely speak. He was eighteen when I married his father. We never had much reason to become acquainted. He did apologize to me once, said he was terribly sorry that whatever child I had would not be his father’s heir. But I knew that when I married Huxley.”
“Your marriage… was it a happy one? I am sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, none of that.” She laughed. “It was a marriage like any other. Nothing more nor less. We rubbed along quite nicely until he died.”
Was Lady Huxley supremely cold? Or supremely practical? “I am glad he left you in agreeable circumstances.”
“Oh, yes. That is most important. I need not take a husband until I am ready.”
Samuel swallowed. This was his moment. “Are you ready?” The words sounded forced. Because they were. It had felt like shaping words around a boulder shoved into his mouth.
She tilted her head and considered him through lowered lashes. “I dare say I am.”
What now? He’d never gotten this close before.
Ahead of them on the path, laughter lifted into the sky. Felicity. She’d thrown her head back, and the man standing next to her looked slack-jawed, enraptured, as Samuel’s sister showed her soul with that laugh.
Beside and slightly apart from Felicity, Lady Emma scribbled in her notebook, her lips curved up so slightly maybe only Samuel could see it.
“Your Grace,” Lady Huxley said, “if you do not mind me saying it, I am surprisedyouhave not married by now. It would have made marrying off your sisters a much simpler task.”
“I’ve been looking for the right woman.” His steps hitched. Damn. He’d not meant to speak the truth, but the words had come tumbling out.
“Do you think you’ll ever find her?”
Lady Emma snapped her tiny notebook closed and pocketed it. She stuck the miniscule pencil behind her ear and clasped her hands before her as if quite pleased.
He forced himself to face Lady Huxley. “I know I will.” It was the one target he could not miss.
“May I ask another possibly impertinent question, Your Grace?”
He nodded.
“What kind of woman will she be? And… what kind of union can she expect?”
She also liked to aim for the target, no distractions, no meandering and gathering information that might be useless. That, at least, they had in common. “She must like my sisters. She must produce an heir. She must be… able to survive whatever… difficulties life tosses her way.” Scandals, banishment from the best homes, whispers behind backs. She must be able to live without social approval. Fortunately, Lady Huxley seemed just the sort. No firm relationships with husband or family of any kind. She liked to exist, it seemed, on her own.
“You are not searching, then, for a love match?”
