Sleep had not been coming to him easily for a sennight; thoughts of how to approach the subject matter of Lady Harriet's tryst with Devonport to Weston was like attempting to walk through burning hot coals in bare feet.
He managed to pretend it didn't happen while his friendship with Miss Price continued to deepen, but he was only pushing away the inevitable.
A drink was what he needed to help clear the troubled thoughts floating around. The blanket did not give him warmth, but caused his nightwear to dampen and cling to his person as if second skin. Grabbing the robe from the edge of his bed, he tightened it around himself as he snuck into the hall and down the second floor.
At this time of night when all the servants were asleep, the place was eerie. A nook for spectres. The slight breeze echoing from outside the large walls made him shudder. As a young child, he had foolishly believed his mother would be in each corner, watching over him late at night.
He grabbed a glass of port, swirling the contents and took a sip, allowing the concentrated, bitter notes of dried fruit to slide down his throat. He placed it down on his desk and rubbed his forehead. A drink did not calm him as he would have liked.
The library, he told himself. Yes, that was a start. It was grand and as lonely as it looked. The sombre atmosphere with mist cast from the bitter wind outside lay in contrast to the warmth it provided. It was not as suffocating as being in his study that seemed to be devoid of all life.
Then there was the photo.
The mental image of his mother blurred as the years passed by. The family portrait helped reignite that ever fading image. He never met her. He never touched her or felt her love. Richard had convinced himself that such a love was not required when Nalini had given him a love that could never be replaced.
But, the conversation with Miss Price brought to surface his real desires. Desires he had hidden away. Was it so bad to admit to himself that he wished his birth mother was still alive? His throat tightened, every footstep toward the library becoming laden with heaviness, feet tied to large stones.
The library door opened in one fluid motion. He swept his gaze around the silent room and breathed in the scent of polished wood. His father did not know it but he ordered the servants to give the library a special clean in order to preserve what was left of his mother.
He made his way over to the back, past the mounted walls of books. He pulled back a shelf that looked as if it was one with the architecture of the building, bringing out the painting hidden the scrutiny of others.
Richard sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, as he always did when he took in the masterful strokes that designed the soft, delicate features of his very young mother; donning a blue satin dress, the gold locks that he had inherited from her sat in a curly bun, the fringes parted at the middle to display her small, pale face. Large blue eyes innocently gazed back at him and her small pink lips did not hold a trace of a smile.
Grandmother and father—uncle—stood on each side of her. The latter in a white coat with gold braidings, a black sash and a row full of ornamental badges hung across his upper body. He looked as young as Richard now, with no existence of stubble that peppered his now-matured square face. He was smiling slightly, a vision that showed itself here and there.
His grandfather sat on the dark green couch but the details had slightly faded in time, the colours duller than he had remembered last. His hands shook as his gaze drew back to his mother. He wondered what her character was like and what her voice resembled. Would it be light and angelic? Or rough and slow?
Would she say 'cross my heart' as Nalini did when I was unable to sleep? he thought, before letting out a bitter laugh. Of course not. That was an unusual quip that only she used, a phrase that he had kept close to his bosom. Would she have advice on what the best plan of action was with the complicated situation now risen between my two closest friends?
YOU ARE READING
The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)
Historical Fiction*spin-off to The Duke's Forbidden Lover* Lord Richard of Caldwell's perfect life is upended with news of tragedy. Amidst the uncertainty of his father's health and a happy courtship, he is forced to strike up a friendship with his mother's lady-in...