Grace hesitated, but her inclination overcame her misgivings. With the lightest of touches, she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I would not mind at all. If we walk, it will give us more time to savor the experience.”
“Very sensible.” His lordship set off down the lane at a stiff pace, forcing Grace to scurry to keep up. But once they reached the tree-lined avenue, he slowed to a leisurely stroll. For several moments, Grace became less aware of his nearness and the light, chaste contact between them. For the past several days, she had seen the blossoming trees from a distance. But that was nothing compared to walking beneath them
Gazing up at the vault of white and yellow blossoms, she gave a gasp of wonder. That intake of breath carried the scented air deep into her lungs. The aroma of the linden blossoms was one of the sweetest she had ever smelled, yet it had a mellow warmth and freshness that prevented it from cloying.
Her fears were no match for this banquet for the senses. Her lips blossomed into a smile of profound enjoyment.
“Do you suppose this is a foretaste of heaven?” The question came straight from her heart, without conscious thought.
“I hope so.” His lordship gave a soft sigh that whispered of loving sorrow untainted by regret. “It would comfort me to think of Annabelle in a place like this.”
“You still miss her very much.” Grace wished it was in her power to restore what he and the girls had lost. Even though it would diminish her position at Nethercross. Even though it would mean she could not be here with him like this, tasting a flavor of happiness unlike any she’d known before.
Grace did not expect Lord Steadwell to answer, but he did.
“Miss my wife? Oh, yes. Sometimes more than I did at first, when disbelief numbed the worst of it. When I experience something that might have pleased her, I would give anything to share it with her. When I see our daughters growing and learning, I want her to share my pride in them.”
Grace’s hand pressed against his arm in an attempt to offer comfort, though she knew it would be in vain. At the same time, her heart ached with a hollow pang almost like grief. She wished someone could care for her the way Rupert Kendrick loved his late wife, with tenderness that survived longer than life itself.
“And yet,” he mused in a voice that seemed to come from deep within him, “those feelings are not so raw and bitter as they once were. I do not know how it came about, but it is a blessing for which I am grateful beyond measure.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth before a shudder ran through his frame. “Forgive me, Miss Ellerby. I did not invite you here to depress your spirits with such sad talk. Tell me, how are my daughters enjoying your history lessons?”
For his sake more than hers, Grace went along with his abrupt change of subject. “They seem to like it very well. They ask many questions that are quite perceptive for their ages. By the time we are finished, I reckon they will know at least as much history of the past few centuries as any boy from a good school.”
“And a great deal more than most.” Lord Steadwell gave a rumbling chuckle. “Myself included. Once Parliament recesses, I may have to join my daughters in their history lessons to learn what I missed at school.”
Though Grace knew he was only in jest, she could not help imagining with pleasure what it might be like to have him as her pupil. “As a practice in composition I asked your daughters to write down those family stories so they can be preserved for future generations at Nethercross. I wonder if you might look the compositions over to make certain the information is accurate?”
She had thought her project would please him, but his reply sounded preoccupied. “Yes... of course. I should be happy to assist you in any way.”
Having strolled to the end of the tree-lined lane, they turned and started back toward the house in the falling darkness. The lights in the windows beckoned Grace with a promise of home and belonging she had not known for many years.
Though she and Lord Steadwell continued to talk about his daughters, Grace could not help feeling his thoughts were elsewhere. What could she have said to affect him so? Was it her mention of heaven that had provoked thoughts of his late wife? In spite of his claim that the anguish of his grief had eased of late, she sensed his heart would always belong to the mother of his daughters.
When Saturday evening arrived, Charlotte, Phoebe and Sophie were all dressed, groomed and on their best behavior. Despite the short notice, the cook had risen valiantly to the occasion and prepared a fine dinner. Mrs. Cadmore and Henry seemed pleased with the invitation and determined to enjoy this family evening out.
Yet even as Rupert strove to make polite conversation and put everyone at ease, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of the previous evening. Watching Miss Ellerby’s wonder as they strolled beneath the arch of blossoming trees, he’d felt almost as if he were experiencing it for the first time. Why had he spoiled it by raising the morbid subject of his grief? Could it have been a qualm of guilt that for the first time in four years, he had enjoyed a pleasant experience without immediately wishing Annabelle was there to share it?
Perhaps that was a natural development, fostered by the kindness of time. Rupert knew he should be grateful for anything that made it easier for him to move on with his life and fulfill his duty to Nethercross and his daughters. Yet it still felt disloyal to the memory of his late wife and the love they’d shared.
Talking about Annabelle to Miss Ellerby had helped soothe his conflicted feelings, though he regretted casting a shadow over what was meant to be a pleasant outing for her. His attempt to recapture their initial enjoyment had worked for a while, until she mentioned handing down the history of Nethercross to future generations. Her words reminded him that if he failed to produce a male heir, his title and estate would go to distant cousins who knew nothing of country life or the proud traditions of his family.
With a start, Rupert roused from his abstraction to realize Mrs. Cadmore had just spoken to him. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”
“I was saying what a credit your lovely daughters are to you.” She practically shouted down the table. “You have done an excellent job of rearing them. I look to you as an example of how to bring up children without a spouse.”
It irked him that she should raise the subject in front of the youngsters. His girls had been without their mother long enough that this reminder of their loss might not trouble them greatly, but her son had lost his father little more than a year ago.
“I have been fortunate to have such able assistance in raising my daughters. Their governesses deserve more credit than I for how well they have turned out.” He looked around the table at his girls, casting a warm smile to thank them for their exemplary behavior.