by Ava Devlin
All one had to do was look into Callie's eyes to know she was his daughter. There was no hiding that, no matter whose name she bore.
As for Heloise herself, she knew that while she could not immediately flee back to the dower house, she would not be regarded with overmuch suspicion if she made an early departure, especially as she'd mentioned the impending arrival of a new baby in the township just before everything had been thrown into chaos. The only person present who might inquire as to the nature of her business this afternoon would be the doctor, and he certainly would ask her in private if his curiosity was piqued. After all, the man never turned down an opportunity to speak with her in private.
The wedding breakfast was held in the parlor rather than the dining room, to accommodate musicians and several tables adorned with a variety of finger foods. Seating was arranged throughout the room, and Gideon insisted that both Mrs. Laughlin and her son join the family in this double occasion of happiness.
At least with his mother present, Callum couldn't make a beeline for Heloise, though she could feel his eyes on her as she aggressively buttered her croissant, making a point to keep her back to the congregation as she tried to find the right phrasing with which to plea to heaven to make this pain swift and without consequence.
As though her guardian angel knew what she was about, in burst Sheldon Bywater, his voice booming over those of everyone else gathered, in excitement to see his protégé returned from the war. He stomped past Heloise, who had frozen in place, butter knife lifted like a conductor's baton, to avoid visibly wincing at the intrusion.
"Callum, m'boy!" Sheldon called, flinging an arm over the younger man's shoulders and giving him a hearty embrace. "I knew you'd do well for yourself, didn't I? I told Gideon as much too when I wrote to him of your commission."
"I believe you said there was nothing to be done for it now, as the letter would have arrived sometime after the deed was done," Gideon replied dryly. "And then you offered me your driver in replacement as though he were chattel."
"Aye, that I did," Sheldon replied happily, all rebuke lost upon him. "I suppose Graham might be expecting to return to Hawk Hill now that Callum has returned."
"Mm," Rose murmured. "Best of luck proposing that to him."
From her periphery, Heloise gathered that most of the family had clustered about Callum and Sheldon, enjoying the amusement of the reunion. She did not dare turn her head to search for a place to sit for fear that she'd be beckoned over by some well-meaning fool who didn't know the agony she was in.
Sir Reginald Blakely, the father of the bride, had taken a seat near the window and was presently gazing out upon the vista while he sipped on a cup of tea. This was a man who seemed very much content to simply sit in congenial silence if that is what the situation called for, and as such was perfect for Heloise's purposes.
She marched decisively over to him and took the chair opposite his, flashing him a smile she hoped did not appear overly awkward.
He returned the smile, a little twinkle in his eye that could sometimes be shared by two people amidst a moment of absurdity, and went back to sipping his tea and enjoying the sunlight streaming into the room.
How such an agreeable, pleasant man had produced a daughter like Gloriana, Heloise had never been able to figure out. She supposed it might have taken an indulgent parent to rear a spoiled child, however. While it was true that Gloriana was miles more pleasant than she had been during their years at finishing school, she still had a streak of haughty self-assurance that certainly had not been inherited, at least not paternally.
From her chair, she glanced over at the wedded couple, seated just a touch away from the remainder of the crowd, nestled into one another and whispering, as though they were perfectly alone.
Gloriana's silver dress shone like a mantle of diamonds in the afternoon light, her face tilted up to gaze into Alex’s eyes with a staggering amount of raw affection. Perhaps when someone was born so utterly, devastatingly beautiful, she could become haughty on her own accord, with no contribution from her upbringing whatsoever.
Her heart hurt to watch them, so in love, so unconcerned with the world around them. It wasn't envy exactly, nor was it purely the function of some altruistic affection lurking within her. For a very short time, many years ago, she had believed she would have a future that looked somewhat like that, and she supposed that what she felt was both the pleasure one takes in witnessing something beautiful and the pain of knowing it is beyond your own grasp.
"Your friend the marquis is a rather loud fellow, isn't he?" Sir Reginald commented, his tone friendly if bland.
It startled Heloise, her eyes dropping immediately to her hands, as though she'd been caught looking at something she shouldn't. Now that it had been pointed out, she could hear Sheldon's voice again, spinning a raucous yarn about Callum's deeds of heroism on the front.
"... So, that's when young Laughlin here goes storming back into the barracks, covered in soot and gunpowder, and drags the colonel out by his elbows! All the while, the man was clutching that bottle of gin and sobbing about some bird named Yvonne, kicking his feet out like a toddler who'd been put to bed too early."
"It wasn't quite so fantastic as that," Callum demurred.
Heloise could hear the blush in his tone, the sudden discomfort with this attention. Had he always been so humble? She could have sworn she remembered a brash young man who would have puffed out his chest and reveled in such praise.
"Nonsense," Sheldon guffawed. "That's why he got that commendation, and a promotion to boot! Lieutenant Laughlin, in under five years! That's nothing to sneeze at."
"Lieutenant, you must stay with us in London this spring when you receive your medal," Gloriana said, her fingers winding absently through her husband's as she spoke. "Alex has been offered a position as a junior attaché and will be taking up residence in Mayfair in a townhouse that will have plenty of additional room."
Sir Reginald chuckled into his teacup, his shoulders bouncing and cheeks pink with amusement as Callum sputtered an attempt at a gracious reply.
"It took her less than a month to secure that assignation for her new husband, you know," he said to Heloise. "That boy has no idea what sort of life he's got ahead of him just yet."
"Well," Heloise replied evenly, despite the way her heart was still stuttering beneath her dress. "I've certainly warned him thoroughly enough."
Sir Reginald laughed outright at that, setting his teacup down and smoothing his pale blond mustache with his napkin. He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and considered Heloise, his blue eyes sparkling with merriment.
"You're much more pleasant than she ever would have allowed me to believe," he said fondly. "Prettier too. Though I suppose you might've grown into it over the years."
"Oh, yes," Heloise confirmed. "It wasn't until a year out of Mrs. Arlington's that the scales fell off my cheeks and the snakes gave way to human hair. I still have to file my teeth down on a regular basis, in fact."
"Oh, I can barely tell," he assured her with a pat to her hand.
"It's the residual hissing," she joked. "I can't seem to silence it."
Strangely, she could swear she felt a lightening of her concerns, as though the voices behind her had faded away for just a moment, allowing her to breathe. She couldn't rightly thank the man, for he had no reason to believe anything was amiss, but all the same she was appreciative.
"Glory would have been better served befriending a girl like you, rather than making enemies," he commented. "Before she met you, she genuinely did not know that the world would not always cater to her wishes and thank her for the privilege."
"I was beastly, really," Heloise said with a grimace. "Jealous and childish. I'd take it back if I could."
"I wouldn't," Sir Reginald countered, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. "You taught her resilience and that not every girl must follow the path laid out in front of her. You made her question her choices and learn to navigate discord. I
cannot say how important those things have been to my daughter, especially as my paternal teachings were sorely lacking in these subjects."
"You seem like a wonderful father," she assured him. "I wish mine had been half so kind."
"Mm, luck of the draw, that." He nodded, not bothering to coddle her with empty platitudes nor false acclaim for the late Lord Somers. "Still, you've grown into a remarkable woman. It is not many ladies of the ton who would not only reject being debuted, but learn a trade and practice it! You needn't money nor shelter nor occupation, and yet you perform a momentous task in your little township with true devotion and enthusiasm. You are a singular woman, Lady Heloise, and you should be proud."
"Proud?" she repeated, stifling a surprised hint of laughter. "I rather think my scandalous choices and confirmed spinster status have given my brother gray hairs before his time."
"That one was born with gray hairs," he said with a wink. "You know, I often imagined what you must be like, having only the lens of Glory's tragic tales to go by. I pictured a girl much like my own daughter who took to life with fire and brimstone instead of smiles and charm like Glory or a caretaker's serenity like Rose. In a way, I feel like I knew you then, all those years ago."
"Perhaps you did," Heloise suggested. "In your own way, of course."
"Maybe so. If that is the case, then you must allow me an indulgence."
"What's that?"
Sir Reginald smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Allow this sentimental old man to be proud of you, Lady Heloise. Consider my pride a proxy, just until you can come to see yourself the way I do."
Heloise bit her lip, the strangest sensation to cry rising up in her throat. "Thank you, Sir Reginald," she said softly.
"Of course, of course," he chuckled, waving his hand as though it were nothing at all and craning his neck around to survey the progress of the breakfast. "Now, when is that blasted cake coming out, hm?"
6
The arrival of the wedding cake finally gave Callum a moment to breathe.
In a sudden gust of activity, the attentions of the gathering shifted from what Callum considered a soft but firm interrogation of his whereabouts for the last several years to rapt attention on the cutting of the cake by the bride and groom.
Only his mother remained, standing at his side with a reassuring hand on his shoulder while the gathered ton flowed around them to their new destination of interest: a white table already outfitted with gold-edged china on which the guests would sample the wedding cake.
It was surreal standing in this room as a guest, knowing one of those plates was meant for him. Yes, his mother was here too, though he genuinely wondered if she would have returned belowstairs if not for his arrival. The head of the household staff is still a servant, after all, no matter how long she'd lived with a family.
To make matters even more uncomfortable, Lord Somers had extended an invitation for Callum to stay at Somerton for as long as he liked—that is—in the house proper, not in the servants’ quarters. He had been rescued from the necessity of having to give an immediate answer by the arrival of this sugar-glazed monstrosity that must have consumed several pounds of eggs, butter, and flour.
It had been a very long time since he had last laid eyes on Alex Somers, and though he looked much the same as he had before that first departure to Oxford so many years ago, Alex must have changed a great deal to have ended up engaged to the woman standing next to him. This was no mousy miss to be kept complacent in a country house while Alex carried on with his wild ways. This was a beauty cut from glittering ice and diamond, with the calculating eyes of a chess master complementing her pretty face.
Meeting her eye gave him the sensation that she could pluck all of his secrets right from his mind and stow them away for a time when she might find them useful. It was unsettling, to be certain, even if it didn't feel particularly malicious. Perhaps he was simply paranoid from his years abroad, being forced to remain on guard no matter how desperately he wished to relax. Yes, that must be it. It was absurd that he should find himself sizing up the prowess of a young bride on her wedding day.
As for Lady Heloise, she seemed to be doing her utmost to avoid having their reunion until they could be alone. While of course he could see the wisdom in such a precaution, especially with how high emotions would likely be running once they could properly greet one another, it was a true torment to see her sitting there, not so very far away from him, and be unable to stride over and pull her directly into his arms like he wanted to.
He had done his best not to gawk too obviously, though he imagined anyone who was paying close attention would have found him utterly transparent.
She was resplendent. She glowed in a shaft of sunlight, her body wrapped in a silk gown of pale green and her hair as bright and glossy as it had ever been, wound about her head with a burst of matching green ribbon. The Heloise he remembered preferred her hair down her back and her clothing more suited to durability than style, but it was, after all, her brother's wedding day.
Her eyes were a darker green than that gown. He hadn't been able to see them up close in several years, but he remembered them as well as you remember the smell of the ocean or the taste of fresh-baked bread.
She had risen from her repast with an older gentleman near the windows to view the cake cutting, illuminated in glorious backlight as the sun cast burnt orange and pink hues onto the room, beginning its journey below the horizon so early in the day that it made the winter feel even chillier.
"Won't you have a slice of cake, Lieutenant Laughlin?" the Viscountess Somers asked him, startling him so suddenly out of his reverie that he had to stifle a gasp.
She was a pretty little thing, lush and curvaceous with big, golden eyes that blinked up at him with an earnest warmth. Her lips were curved in a friendly smile, or perhaps a little show of amusement at having caught this stranger staring at her beautiful sister-in-law.
"Thank you, Lady Somers," he managed, accepting one of those fine, fragile little plates from her, along with an equally delicate fork. "We met once before."
She looked far more composed today than she had on that night, some years past, when she had eloped with Gideon Somers and left Callum with the Marquis of Moorvale, changing his life forever.
"Yes, I recall," she replied with a smile, lowering her lashes at the memory. "I'm afraid I was rather distracted that night and did not make the appropriate introductions at the time. If you'll excuse my rudeness, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance now, and I hope we might still be friends."
Friends? A viscountess wanted to be his friend! He stumbled over what he hoped was a gracious reply, his head swimming with this new and strange world that was somehow living in just the place where he'd left his old one.
"Tell me," she said, balancing a delicate bite of cake off the edge of one of the silver forks. "What are your plans now that you've returned to England? Or have you decided?"
He blinked at her, caught for a moment like a doe in the crosshairs of a hunting musket. Well, he couldn't tell her everything, could he? Not without Heloise giving her consent to his plans. He couldn't outright lie either, when he was hoping to marry into this very family.
Instead, he decided to attempt an abridged version of the truth, clearing his throat and attempting a confident tone. "I will sell my commission in the spring, and hopefully have enough revenue together with my savings to purchase a small home somewhere in the country for myself and my mother."
"Oh," Lady Somers said, raising her eyebrows. "I did not realize Mrs. Laughlin would be leaving us."
"I haven't mentioned anything to her yet," he said quickly, a nervous heat rising beneath his skin. "I would ask you not to mention it to her until I've had an opportunity to make sure the idea is a feasible one."
"Of course, yes," she agreed, though her expression had a hint of concern to it where it hadn't before. "I hope you will be staying with us for the remainder of the winter. It is my assumption that searching fo
r a property to purchase will be much more amenable come the spring."
"I'm sure you are right." He sampled a bit of the cake on his plate, only to immediately regret the explosion of sickly sweetness that overtook him as he attempted to keep his expression as neutral as possible.
"Yes, I agree." Lady Somers sighed. "Heloise and I told her the almond glaze would be less abrasive, but Glory loves sweet things and wouldn't hear it once she had made her choice."
At the sound of her name, Callum instinctively glanced over his shoulder, to the last place he'd seen Heloise standing, only to find a milling of people he did not recognize making conversation over slices of the wedding cake.
"Has Lady Heloise gone?" he asked, putting on his best tone of nonchalance. "She never did like to stand on ceremony."
"It isn't that," Lady Somers told him, those eyes of hers sparkling with a keenness that suddenly made Callum feel quite exposed. "She has duties in the village to attend to as a midwife and will likely wish to freshen up and rest before returning for tonight's New Year celebration. You will join us too, I hope?"
"Midwife," he repeated dumbly. "Did you say Lady Heloise has become a midwife?"
"Yes, quite!" the viscountess replied happily. "She assisted with the birth of my son, Reggie, and has been overseeing the progress of my current pregnancy."
"O-Oh!" he stammered, shaking his head in embarrassment. He had not even realized the woman in front of him was with child, though now that he looked at her properly, he of course could see the way her dress had been modified to allow for the growth of her belly. "Congratulations, Lady Somers."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," she replied. "Now, I must return to my husband's side before he becomes overwhelmed with the crowd. If you're looking for Lady Heloise, you might try the stables."
"Why would I be looking for Lady Heloise?" he asked, but the viscountess had already gone, crossing lightly over the sunset hues of the parlor's natural light as though she had not suggested anything at all out of the ordinary.
