The expression on the angel’s face was one of ultimate kindness, of comfort, ofhomecoming. And the children looked happy in those arms, and the young lady too.
They seemed happy together, wrapped up in those gentle, all-encompassing wings. The robes of the angel spilled about their feet, and the curls of the children’s hair and the lady’s danced as if a gentle wind was blowing through the clouds.
A candle stood alone, its small flame flickering before the portrait.
And suddenly she did not think she would be able to speak.
This was not so very long ago from the fashion of the young woman’s gown.
It could not have been the previous duke’s family.
No, it had to be this ones.
Had he been married?
She had not heard such a thing, but she had heard little of the Duke of Blackwood, aside from his nefarious reputation on the dueling field.
My God, was that why he was cold and distant? And was that why he was so good?
Because he had known such unequivocal loss? If he had, her heart ached.
She lifted a hand to her throat, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow for him washed over her.
She missed her mother and father. They had been good and kind people. She often wondered how her brother had gone so wrong with parents like theirs.
Perhaps it had been the years away at Eton, where he had fallen under bad influences with other boys who did not care about the world around them.
But the idea of losing a child or a loved one like that? “Can you tell me who these people were, Everson?”
Everson tensed. “Yes, Lady Catherine. I can, but I do not know if His Grace would truly wish us to speak of it.”
She nodded, understanding. “You do not need to speak of it, but I would like you to confirm their identities. Was that Her Grace, the duke’s wife, and were those his children?”
Everson inclined his head.
“Thank you, Everson,” she said, despite the tightening of her throat. “I shan’t press you on the matter. I wouldn’t wish to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Thank you, Lady Catherine, I appreciate that. His Grace does not allow them to be spoken of.”
“But you knew them,” she said softly.
Everson gave another tight nod, his eyes suddenly shining with emotion. “Yes, Lady Catherine, I knew them very well indeed. They filled these rooms with joy, and these rooms have not known joy since they departed them.”
Her own voice hitched in her throat as she said, “I am very sorry for it, Everson, and your grief.”
His eyes widened with astonishment. “Thank you.” He said, “They have been gone for a very long time, but sometimes I still think I hear the little ones in the nursery.” He gazed upward, his whole body tensing with pain. “Sometimes I still think I hear their laughter.”
The grief and sorrow of those words surrounded them. “You clearly cared for them. Thank you for sharing their memory with me.”
Everson snapped his gaze to hers, and he was looking at her with a new and unexpected hope. “His Grace was different this morning, my lady, if you don’t mind my saying. And I’m sorry that I turned you away last night. I’m actually quite glad that you found a way into the house because…”
“Yes,” she prompted.
“He looked more… like himself.”
“Has he not been himself?” she queried gently.
“Not for years,” he said. “Oh, he’s a good master. But he has…”