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Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
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too?”
Lucien shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “My daughter was injured at birth and she has a great difficulty in walking, so we try to keep things like cats and dogs and ferrets, things that she can trip over, away from her.”
It made some sense but a world without pets, to Emmaline, was a sad world, indeed. “I see,” she said, somewhat troubled. “I am sorry to know that. But what does she do all day if she does not have a pet to tend?”
Lucien cocked his head thoughtfully, thinking on the question. He didn’t give Emmaline the first answer that came to mind – she screams and throws tantrums and makes us all miserable. Nay, that was not the answer to give her. He tried to think of something less horrific but, in truth, it was difficult.
“She likes to draw,” he said. “She has a nurse who has been with her since she was born. Her nurse has taught her to draw and play the harp. She also sews very well.”
Emmaline thought of the sewing she left submerged in the carriage. “I like to sew, also,” she said. “So does my mother. You should see the beautiful things she sews. But what of your wife? Does she live at the military fortress, too?”
Lucien glanced over at the nosy young woman. “My wife died when my daughter was born.”
Emmaline looked stricken. “Oh,” she gasped softly. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to… I did not know.”
“Emmaline,” Sophina said from atop the horse. She’d heard what she’d needed to hear and she was embarrassed to have been so curious over something so personal and tragic. Now, she felt foolish. She couldn’t even manage to feel relieved. “Mayhap you should ride with me now. Do not exhaust Sir Lucien with your chatter.”
Lucien waved her off. “She is not exhausting me,” he said. “It is refreshing to speak with an intelligent young lady for a change. I spend my days talking to ugly men. Bah!”
He made a face and both Emmaline and Sophina laughed at him. Sophina’s gaze lingered affectionately on her daughter.
“She will talk you into your grave if you let her,” she said. “You are very patient with children. Your son and daughter are very fortunate to have such an understanding father.”
Lucien’s smile faded as he looked at Emmaline, who was hugging her pet, smiling at him. Was it really true that there were children like her? Children who were full of love and laughter, not animosity and angst? It seemed so unbelievable considering the behavior of his own children and he was coming to think that it must have been a mother’s influence on a child that made them pleasant and happy.
Had Laurabel lived, perhaps things would have been different with his children. Perhaps they would be kind and well-behaved, and they would love him. Perhaps he wouldn’t be resigned to a son who hated him and a daughter who was horrific at best.
Perhaps the problem had been him all along.
“We will be at Spelthorne shortly,” he said, turning away and catching sight of his fortress in the distance, now looming closer. “Mayhap I should send word to your father, as well, my lady. He will want to know that you have suffered a mishap on your trip.”
Sophina couldn’t help but notice that her mention of his children had brought about some change in his mood. He had been smiling and kind one moment, sullen the next. It was an odd reaction, she thought. Surely the man would be very proud of his children but from his response to the mention of his offspring, one might wonder otherwise. Quickly, she hastened to ease whatever melancholy might threaten to settle.
“Although I thank you for your thoughtfulness, my father will not want to be bothered with any mishaps on our trip to Gillingham,” she said. “All that matters to him is that we arrive whole and safe. I will send him word once we have met with Lord du Ponte.”
Lucien cast her an odd look. “I would hardly think that telling him of your trouble and reassuring him that you and
Lucien shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “My daughter was injured at birth and she has a great difficulty in walking, so we try to keep things like cats and dogs and ferrets, things that she can trip over, away from her.”
It made some sense but a world without pets, to Emmaline, was a sad world, indeed. “I see,” she said, somewhat troubled. “I am sorry to know that. But what does she do all day if she does not have a pet to tend?”
Lucien cocked his head thoughtfully, thinking on the question. He didn’t give Emmaline the first answer that came to mind – she screams and throws tantrums and makes us all miserable. Nay, that was not the answer to give her. He tried to think of something less horrific but, in truth, it was difficult.
“She likes to draw,” he said. “She has a nurse who has been with her since she was born. Her nurse has taught her to draw and play the harp. She also sews very well.”
Emmaline thought of the sewing she left submerged in the carriage. “I like to sew, also,” she said. “So does my mother. You should see the beautiful things she sews. But what of your wife? Does she live at the military fortress, too?”
Lucien glanced over at the nosy young woman. “My wife died when my daughter was born.”
Emmaline looked stricken. “Oh,” she gasped softly. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to… I did not know.”
“Emmaline,” Sophina said from atop the horse. She’d heard what she’d needed to hear and she was embarrassed to have been so curious over something so personal and tragic. Now, she felt foolish. She couldn’t even manage to feel relieved. “Mayhap you should ride with me now. Do not exhaust Sir Lucien with your chatter.”
Lucien waved her off. “She is not exhausting me,” he said. “It is refreshing to speak with an intelligent young lady for a change. I spend my days talking to ugly men. Bah!”
He made a face and both Emmaline and Sophina laughed at him. Sophina’s gaze lingered affectionately on her daughter.
“She will talk you into your grave if you let her,” she said. “You are very patient with children. Your son and daughter are very fortunate to have such an understanding father.”
Lucien’s smile faded as he looked at Emmaline, who was hugging her pet, smiling at him. Was it really true that there were children like her? Children who were full of love and laughter, not animosity and angst? It seemed so unbelievable considering the behavior of his own children and he was coming to think that it must have been a mother’s influence on a child that made them pleasant and happy.
Had Laurabel lived, perhaps things would have been different with his children. Perhaps they would be kind and well-behaved, and they would love him. Perhaps he wouldn’t be resigned to a son who hated him and a daughter who was horrific at best.
Perhaps the problem had been him all along.
“We will be at Spelthorne shortly,” he said, turning away and catching sight of his fortress in the distance, now looming closer. “Mayhap I should send word to your father, as well, my lady. He will want to know that you have suffered a mishap on your trip.”
Sophina couldn’t help but notice that her mention of his children had brought about some change in his mood. He had been smiling and kind one moment, sullen the next. It was an odd reaction, she thought. Surely the man would be very proud of his children but from his response to the mention of his offspring, one might wonder otherwise. Quickly, she hastened to ease whatever melancholy might threaten to settle.
“Although I thank you for your thoughtfulness, my father will not want to be bothered with any mishaps on our trip to Gillingham,” she said. “All that matters to him is that we arrive whole and safe. I will send him word once we have met with Lord du Ponte.”
Lucien cast her an odd look. “I would hardly think that telling him of your trouble and reassuring him that you and
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