Lady of a Recluse Earl
Page 22
“Archibald is doing as well as he can without distraction or amusement to stimulate him, Lady Hodge,” said Ambrose wryly, only daring to verge on the truth. Knowing Honora as he did, she would only worry herself with his welfare if he told her everything.
Archibald seemed to be rebelling against a house that rejected him. Mrs Wyndham would not see either of her remaining boys for very long, given their likeness to Albion, and Sir Wyndham hardly said a word to anyone. And so he had sought life and vitality elsewhere, causing untold trouble for a household that could not deal with the strain of his personal revolution. It had fallen to Ambrose to attempt to curb the young man’s troublesome endeavours, but it was proving more difficult as Archibald became more cunning.
“With your mother so poorly and your father so despondent, I can only imagine the effect on a young man of his former spirit, Mr Wyndham,” Honora murmured kindly. “I imagine, as with most of your family, he feels somewhat lost. Your brother was a guiding light to all of you, and now that light has gone out.”
She was always so poetic with her words, and Ambrose knew he could listen to her speak all day if given the chance. He had never heard more poignant words come out of a person’s mouth, especially where his family were concerned.
“Indeed, I fear he may be struggling, Lady Hodge, though I am doing what I can to provide suitable diversion,” Ambrose explained, though he knew it wasn’t entirely honest of him. With Honora at Davenham Park, he had found himself more distracted than he usually was, his mind elsewhere.
“Is there not an aunt or uncle he might stay with awhile, Mr Wyndham?”
Ambrose shook his head. “I fear not, Lady Hodge. My mother will not have him out of her sight, though she keeps to her room most days,” he sighed, thinking of the dismal home Whitecroft Abbey had become. Where once there had been laughter and merriment, now there was doom and gloom around every corner. Even the staff seemed loathe to wear a smile in case it should offend the lady of the house.
“A troublesome dichotomy,” Honora murmured, her fingertips brushing his forearm for the merest moment. It had been so brief Ambrose did not know if it was intentional or not. He froze, surprised by the gesture, but Honora did not seem to have noticed. Even so, she turned her face away for a second or two, and when she looked back, he could see the faintest blush of pink in her pale cheeks.
“Lady Hodge, would you allow me the pleasure of a turn around the rose gardens?” he asked, feeling emboldened.
She smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Mr Wyndham.”
They stood, with Honora hesitating a moment before she placed her hand on top of Ambrose’s. Shyly, they glanced at one another before looking to the horizon together. They walked slowly, Honora often standing so close their sides almost pressed together. It left Ambrose breathless, his mind racing as he meandered along with her, their direction seemingly aimless.
Before long they arrived at the shaded grove where the cemetery lay, the stained glass of the chapel windows gleaming in the last of the evening’s light. Ambrose did not know why he had walked in this direction, but he was pleased to see a soft smile upon Honora’s face as they sat down on the stone bench that stood to the side of Albion’s grave.
A fresh bouquet of flowers lay in front of the headstone, the velvety petals of freshly picked roses brushing the emerald grass beneath.
“Do you believe in true love?” Honora asked unexpectedly, taking Ambrose quite by surprise.
He looked at her closely, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words. “I do, Lady Hodge. I believe there is no truer sign of such a thing than the newly married Lord and Lady Langley.”
“Be that as it may, Mr Wyndham, what if my sister had married your brother instead of Lord Langley? What if the pair of them had never met? Would she have been as wholly in love as she is now? Would her happiness ever have reached such glorious heights?” she ventured tentatively, her tone anxious.
Ambrose furrowed his brow in thought, thinking back to the sparse months Emmeline and Albion had been given before he had gone off to war. They had barely known one another as anything but friends, but there had been affection there, for certain—not the same kind she now displayed with Gilbert, but they had cared for one another.
No, Albion and Emmeline had enjoyed a more platonic kind of love. Yet that did not mean they could not have discovered a more passionate love later on, once they had been bound in wedlock.
“I think they might have been happy in their own way,” Ambrose replied uncertainly, wondering where such questions were coming from.
“I do, also…” she began, trailing off slightly, only to pick up her thoughts once more. “But now that I have seen the elation she is capable of, that was hidden away inside her all these years, I could not have seen her settle for anything less than true love. I told her that when Mama was on her initial mission to see Emmy matched… never settle for anything less than true love.” Tears sparkled in her dark eyes as Ambrose’s heart gripped in his chest.
“Where is all of this coming from, dear Lady Hodge?” Ambrose asked quietly, wanting to take her hand in his but not daring.
“I wish had heeded my own words, Mr Wyndham,” she breathed, a choked sob caught in the back of her throat.
“You are loved, Lady Hodge,” Ambrose whispered, knowing he might not get the opportunity to say so again. He still did not risk announcing his own affections to her, but he hoped the inference was there.
Her gaze held his with such intensity that Ambrose almost felt as though they were the only two individuals on the face of the earth. Tenderly, he reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his palm less than an inch away from her face. Out of nowhere, she reached up her own hand and covered his with hers so that his palm pressed against the smooth contours of her skin.
“I wish I could change it all, Ambrose,” she sighed, surprising him with the informal address.
“I wish I could change it all for you, Honora,” he replied, daring to do the same.
A sad smile lifted the corners of her beautiful lips. “What fools we are, Ambrose, to think we can ever have the things we wish for.”
“Never lose hope, Honora,” he pleaded, letting his thumb brush the rosy apples of her cheeks. He did not know if he was part of her wish and was not arrogant enough to believe he held a place in her heart, and yet he could not stop himself from praying that he might be. There was such warmth and affection in her voice, her eyes intent upon his—surely that meant something? If not, he supposed he knew even less about the female heart than he had thought.
“It is too late, Ambrose,” she gasped.
For a moment, it looked as though she was about to continue, but then her mouth closed, the words left unspoken. Instead, she removed her hand from his and lowered it to her lap. “Goodness, it must be the heat of the day causing a fever in my mind. What silly thoughts! Come now, we should return to the house before they ring for dinner,” she said, her mood instantly shifting.
He had seen her do this magic trick before, after a particularly nasty encounter with her husband. She could flit from bereft to composed in a heartbeat.
Swiftly, she got to her feet and began to head toward the sandstone façade of Davenham Park, moving at a rapid pace across the gently waving grass. Ambrose hurried after her, feeling as if a whirlwind had just blown into him, knocking all sense out of him. It felt like another one of his daydreams, yet he could still feel the smooth sensation of her skin lingering on his palm. No, it had been real enough—a flicker of something, nothing more.
At the entrance to the house, Honora turned, a concerned expression on her face. “Please do not tell a soul of what I have said today. It was foolish of me to get so muddled. Indeed, I believe it is this weather we are having. My apologies for making you endure such silliness, Mr Wyndham.”
He smiled. “Think nothing of it, Lady Hodge. Indeed, this weather can make fools of us all.”
She sighed with relief, saying no m
ore before ducking into the shade of the house, the gong sounding just down the hallway.
He followed her slowly, realising he was Mr Wyndham again.
Also by Mirella Tinley
Of Unexpected Love series
Book 1: Lady of a Recluse Earl
Story of Emmy and Gilbert
Link: Book 1 - Lady of a Recluse Earl
Book 2: Lady of a Rogue Lord
Story of Nora and Ambrose
Link: Book 2 - Lady of a Rogue Lord
Book 3: Coming soon…