Footmen began summoning the men at the tables to supper and Finch joined the crowd as it moved toward the supper room. He didn’t feel like sitting with his friends on what possibly could be his last night in London. Instead, he sought out his mother and Lord Wallingford.

  “May I join you for supper?” he asked.

  “We would be delighted,” the earl said.

  Mama slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “How are you? I know something troubles you. Is it Lady Pemberton?”

  “I did speak to her last night. I thought she should know I wouldn’t be seeking a bride this Season. She is eager to marry again and have children. I am not eager to do anything of the sort.”

  Mama gazed at him with love. “I thought I sensed something between the two of you. I had hoped an announcement would be made by the end of the Season.”

  “No, Mama. Not this Season. Children are not for me.”

  Not ever.

  They entered the supper room, buzzing with conversation. He turned to ask Lord Wallingford where he might like them to sit and saw a strange look on the earl’s face.

  “My lord?” he asked, pulling away from his mother and gripping the earl’s arm.

  Wallingford made a strangled noise and crumbled to the floor.

  Finch shouted, “Call for a doctor!” and the room fell silent.

  He dropped to his knees, tearing at Wallingford’s cravat and placing his fingers against the man’s throat, seeking his pulse.

  Nothing.

  His gaze rose, landing upon his mother. Her face had lost all color.

  “He’s gone.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Grandview, Wiltshire

  Finch stared out the window of the drawing room. He was alone in the large room but wouldn’t be for long.

  Today would be Lord Wallingford’s funeral.

  He had accompanied his mother and Nia back to the earl’s country estate in Wiltshire. Both had been ravaged with grief. Wallingford had seemed in excellent health until he dropped dead. The doctor summoned to the ball said it had been a heart attack. The night now seemed a blur to him. Getting Mama back to her townhouse. Telling Nia of her father’s death.

  Finch had taken charge of everything, sending Rufus to Oxford to bring Ned and Donald, Wallingford’s sons, to Grandview. It was near the end of the term and he hoped the young men wouldn’t have to return. He remembered that Ned, the older of the two, had been about to graduate and how proud the earl had seemed of his son. Finch had written to the dean of the college, asking that Ned—the new Earl of Wallingford—be allowed to take his degree since he would now be heavily involved in matters of the estate.

  He had found out from Mama who Wallingford’s solicitor was and contacted him, informing him of the earl’s sudden demise and asking the solicitor to come to Grandview for both the funeral and to brief Ned regarding the estate of his affairs. The solicitor had met with Ned and Finch yesterday shortly after the boys had arrived. Another meeting was planned after the reading of the earl’s will later today.

  Mama entered the room and he went to her, kissing her cheek. She was pale but seemed in control of her emotions.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Better. I have had time to adjust to the idea of Wallingford being gone. Nia, I am afraid, is still grieving deeply. Being the youngest and the only girl, Wallingford spoiled her. They were quite close.”

  “She has you and her brothers to comfort her.”

  “And you, Finch,” Mama added. “She looks up to you.”

  “Will you stay at Grandview?”

  She nodded. “Ned wishes me to. At least for now. He looks upon me as his mother. He and Donald were so young when they lost their own mother. Neither of them truly remembers her.”

  “If the time ever comes when you do not feel comfortable at Grandview, you know you always have a home with me.”

  She cupped his cheek. “I appreciate that.” Her hand fell away and she crossed to the window. “At least the rain has cleared up. Funerals are sad occasions as it is. Rain would have dampened everyone’s spirits even further.”

  Nia entered the room, the black gown she wore washing out her complexion. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Finch pulled her into an embrace and felt her begin to sob against his chest.

  “Tears are good,” he said, stroking her hair. “They cleanse our souls.”

  She lifted her tear-stained face. “Why did Papa have to die like that? I never even got the chance to say goodbye to him.”

  “Some would say it was a kind death,” he explained. “You are young and have not been around anyone suffering from ill health. I, on the other hand, have seen it too many times. Disease that slowly eats up a body. Apoplexy which can rob a person of speech and movement.”

  Finch framed her face in his hands. “I know you are hurting, Nia, but your father did not suffer. One minute he was jovial and the next he was gone. No lingering in a sickbed for weeks or months, wasting away. No slowly losing his grip on reality, not recognizing anyone around him, including his loved ones. No suffering.”

  “That happens?” she asked, her lower lip trembling.

  He lowered his hands. “It does. I have seen parishioners who were intelligent and witty fall into something deep and impenetrable. A state where they know no one, not even those they love. I have watched men and women become mere shadows of themselves, fighting pain so great that they beg others around them to end their suffering. Your father left this world quickly. For that, you should be grateful.”

  He embraced her again, hoping he had brought her some comfort.

  Ned and Donald entered the room together. Both young men physically resembled their father and were reserved, Donald more so than Ned. At least Donald would have a final year at university. It would give him time to come to terms with his father’s death before he embarked upon a military career. Ned, on the other hand, would now be thrust into his role as the new Earl of Wallingford. Finch had promised Ned he would do his best to help guide him, for which Ned had expressed his gratitude.

  The four took a seat and he said, “Grief is real but you must always remember your father in the good times you shared with him. Yes, he would understand your sadness at his passing but you don’t want to lose the wonderful memories of him. Too many times, people make the mistake of never speaking again of loved ones who have passed. I hope that you will keep Lord Wallingford alive not only in your hearts but in conversation. Do not be afraid to speak his name. Yes, it will hurt. But that hurt will lessen over time and the memories you carry of him will be important to always share with one another. And with your children someday. They won’t know him in the flesh but you can tell stories to them about their grandfather and what a good man and father he was.”

  That gave them permission to reminisce and for half an hour, the three children recalled things about their father. How he taught them to ride. How the earl detested rhubarb. How he always came and awakened them personally on their birthdays, bringing them a small present to mark the day. By the time the butler informed them the carriage awaited to carry them to the church for the funeral service, Finch saw their spirits were lighter.

  Ned escorted Nia and Donald followed them. He took his mother’s arm.

  “You must have been a wonderful vicar, Finch. You are so compassionate.” She hesitated and then added, “You would make an excellent father—and husband. I know what you have said but I think you should reconsider.”

  He remained silent as they went to the carriage and journeyed the three miles to the church.

  The vicar did a decent job of the service, having known the earl personally for many years. Only the family ventured to the graveyard to the south of the church after the service ended, where a brief prayer service was conducted before the burial. They returned to Grandview, where the house was soon packed with people from the surrounding area and village. Mama took him around, introducing him to everyone. Two hours later, the last visitor left.

  The solicitor then met with the family, reading the earl’s will. No surprises were found. Mama and Nia retired to their rooms, both asking for a tray to be sent up. The men remained with the solicitor to discuss matters of the estate.

  Finch had suggested that even though Donald was not the heir that he be allowed to sit in on their meeting.

  “While I would hope nothing would ever happen to you, Ned, it is important that if it did, Donald should be prepared. I was a second son and no thought was given to preparing me in the event something happened to my brother. Because of that, I was woefully unprepared to assume my ducal duties.”

  “I understand,” Ned said. “I do believe it is important for Donald to be here. I don’t want to have to go this alone. Donald and I are close and have always relied upon one another. Even though he is younger, I will always seek his advice because I want what is best for our family.”

  The Grandview steward joined them and they discussed the estate and investments for a couple of hours. Finch was surprised by how much he understood and the fact he could contribute to the conversation, based upon his own experience as the Duke of Sommersby. It gave him confidence that once he left Grandview, he would be able to tour his own estates and have a decent amount of knowledge in order to evaluate their statuses and discuss with his various stewards ways in which the estates could thrive.

  Once the meeting ended, he went to his bedchamber. He hadn’t had time to summon Rufus when a knock sounded on his door. He crossed the room and opened the door, surprised to find his mother standing in the corridor.

  “May I come in?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  He allowed her to pass and she went to one of the two chairs which sat next to the window. She took one seat and Finch sat opposite her.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming to talk with you so late,” she said.

  He looked at her, recalling the anger he once directed toward her and how it had died away. Even though he was a matured man, he had grown in this area, no longer blaming his mother for things that were beyond her control.

  “Not at all. I am always happy to speak with you.”

  “I know coming to Grandview interrupted your plans of going to your estates. You had mentioned pressing business. I am sorry you were delayed.”

  “Actually, the need to leave town was more pressing,” he admitted. “I used estate business as an excuse. I had decided to tour all of my country holdings.”

  “In the middle of the Season?”

  “Yes.”

  Mama studied him. “Did your departure have anything to do with Lady Pemberton?”

  Finch swallowed. “It did. She had no children during her first marriage and made it clear that she was looking for a husband. One who could give her children.” He paused. “I was not that man.”

  “Why not? Was it because your childhood was so unhappy?”

  He couldn’t reveal to her what a nightmare it had been. She had already been through much, losing two husbands.

  “I have decided not to marry.”

  “Ever?”

  He nodded.

  “Lady Pemberton seems to be a very special lady,” Mama said.

  “Yes. We had grown close in a short time. I believed it was unfair to remain so, given that I had no interest in marriage. I understood that our names were being coupled together by those of the ton and that if I remained in town, it would be impossible for her to make the match she desired. Thus, I announced my departure.”

  Mama reached and took his hand. “Finch, I know I lost the right years ago to mother you and tell you what to do. I still must say something, however.” She gazed at him steadily. “I think you are making a mistake.”

  He pulled away. “It is mine to make—if it even is a mistake.”

  Her eyes misted with tears. “I have known love twice. With your father and Wallingford. Most people never find it. I thought my life was over when your father was killed. I didn’t know how I could go. How I could even force myself to take the next breath. But I had to because I had two little boys who depended upon me. Then those dark years came during our time with Sommersby. With his death, I was freed.

  “I found Wallingford. It was a match of convenience. I wished for a husband and he was a widower who needed a mother for his two young boys. It took love time to grow but it came and I am forever grateful. For having Wallingford. For being given Ned and Donald. For having Nia.”

  She sighed. “I wish the same for you, Finch. I know you love Lady Pemberton. I can see it in your eyes when you look at her. Hear it in your voice when you speak of her. I witnessed the same with her. What I cannot understand is why you would deliberately walk away from something so wonderful. When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

  He startled. “You think I punish myself?”

  “I do. It is as if because you were denied love and happiness as a child that you deliberately push it away as an adult. As if you believe you are unworthy of the good things in life.”

  His throat grew thick. “Mama, I cannot hurt Victoria by marrying her. So much happened to me so long ago. I have carried it with me all these years. It colors the man I am. I hide so much of myself from the world. It would be unfair to marry Victoria and then keep her at arm’s length. She deserves a man who will love her unconditionally.”

  Mama stood, anger flushing her face. “Why can’t you be that man, Finch? Don’t you see that Victoria is the woman for you? That she can soothe your soul. Help repair the damage done to you. You must open up to her. Not only about your feelings for her but what causes you such pain. She could be the answer to your every prayer, Finch. You are deliberately keeping both of you in misery because of your stubbornness.”

  A sob choked him and she knelt before him. Her hand stroked his cheek.

  “What is wrong, my boy?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot tell you, Mama. Ever. And I am afraid that if I tell her, she won’t want anything to do with me.”

  “Wouldn’t it better to know that than to wonder about it? If she rejects you, your heart may shatter—but you would know a future with her is impossible and pick up the pieces and start anew. Why leave both of you in this limbo? Victoria is a loving, caring woman. Give her a chance, Finch.”

  Mama rose. “I have had two husbands die suddenly so I know exactly how precious time is. How the very one you love can be taken from you in an instant.” Her eyes blazed. “Quit wasting time, Finch. Quit wallowing in the mire. Find the courage deep within you and take action. It is far better to take a chance on love and lose than to never act and die a little every day, withering away because of your inaction.”

  She smoothed his hair. “I may not have been there for you years ago, Finch, but I am here now. Don’t remain broken for the rest of your life. Do everything you can to repair yourself, physically and emotionally. Take a chance on love. It is the greatest healer of all.”

  Her words frightened Finch more than any he had ever heard. Yet Mama did make sense. He already wallowed in the dark. Victoria was the light. If he could find his way to her—if she could accept him—then it would change the course of both of their lives.

  “All right, Mama. I will try.”

  Finch knew if he did—and Victoria rejected him—that he would lose his soul.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Victoria smiled at Wynter and said, “I am grateful you allowed me to visit this afternoon.”

  “The Season can be quite overwhelming,” her friend said. “You can take refuge here anytime.”

  The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of social activities. Once Finch had left town, escorting his mother and Lady Nia to Grandview for the earl’s funeral, Victoria had become mobbed with attention. She had been right. Finch’s presence at her side had kept away a good number of suitors. With his absence and her confirmation that there was no understanding between her and the duke, she had a drawing room of callers every afternoon and invitations for outings. To the theatre and opera. Drives through the park. Ices at Gunter’s.

  It had been too much. Wynter had asked Victoria last night if she needed a brief respite and had asked her to come visit this afternoon. She readily agreed.

  “Don’t you think so?” Wynter asked.

  She looked up. “I am sorry. I was woolgathering. It is just so nice to sit in a room and not have so many eyes on me. Trying to be pleasant and make conversation with a dozen gentlemen all vying for my attention has actually become tiresome.”

  “You don’t have to say anything at all. We can sit here in silence. Or you can fetch a book from the library and read for an hour if you would like. Then it will be teatime.”

  “Both of those sound nice. I do think I would like to visit the nursery first.”

  Wynter smiled. “Sam would love that. He has taken to you.”

  “And I adore him.”

  It was true. The little Marquess of Pickford had stolen Victoria’s heart. He was a sweet child, constantly jabbering, though no one seemed to know much of what he said.

  “Stay here,” she urged. “You need to rest as much as you can.”

  Wynter sighed. “I will take your advice. I am at the stage where I am nauseated half the day and have little energy. In fact, Donovan has said we may return to the country soon.”

  She had learned that her new circle of friends did not remain in town for the entire Season. They usually spent the spring in London and then as summer approached, they all retreated to their country estates. She had worried what it would be like without her newfound friends in town. To hear Wynter might be leaving much earlier disheartened her.

  Still, Victoria didn’t show her feelings. “The country air would probably do you some good. I know it agrees with me much better.”

  She excused herself and made her way up to the topmost floor of the townhouse, having already visited the nursery on other occasions. Slipping into the room, she saw Sam sitting before a pile of blocks.

  He must have heard her because he turned, a grin spreading across his face.

 

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