The Lonely Duke Waited Months for His Bride — Then She Arrived With His Missing Son
Chapter 7
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Oliver announced on Tuesday that he meant to ride again. Benedict said no before the boy had finished speaking."But Joseph says my pony is well," Oliver protested."Your pony is not the matter.""Then what is?"Benedict had no answer suitable for a child. What was the matter was the memory of two hours with no news and a small, empty saddle beneath a sky full of rain.Marian, who had come with Honoria to visit the gardens, heard the exchange and waited until Oliver had gone to see Mrs. Bell. Then she said, "Might we ask Joseph what can safely be done?""I will not place my son in danger to teach him courage.""Nor would I. But safety and avoidance are not always the same thing.""I am his father.""I know, Benedict." It was the first time she had used his name without a title. "That is why the choice must be yours. I am only asking that you hear another possibility."He looked away. The name had unsettled him almost as much as the argument. He recognized the old instinct to make an order, because admitting fear would expose too much of himself.They spoke to Joseph. The stableman suggested an afternoon grooming the pony in its stall, followed by a walk around the enclosed yard with no riding at all. Benedict agreed.Oliver approached the pony with trembling determination. At first, he would not touch its nose. Joseph let him stand quietly until the animal turned toward him of its own accord. After a quarter of an hour, the boy was brushing its mane. Later, he led it a few steps with Joseph beside him and Benedict close enough to help."I did it," Oliver whispered."You did," Benedict said. "And you may stop whenever you wish."The boy stopped immediately and requested a biscuit. Everyone agreed that this was sensible.During the walk, Oliver halted at a puddle reflecting the gray sky. Joseph waited, his hand resting loosely on the pony's lead. Benedict felt a command rising in his throat:Go on. There is nothing to fear.Instead, he crouched beside his son. "Would you rather turn back?"Oliver studied the puddle. "I think I would like to go around it.""Then we shall go around."Marian said nothing, but Benedict caught the look she gave him: approval, perhaps, or something warmer. He found himself oddly pleased by it. Once, the approval of half the county had scarcely mattered; now, a quiet glance from a woman in a borrowed shawl could unsettle his whole afternoon.When they were alone within sight of the stable door, Benedict turned to Marian. "I owe you an apology. I spoke as though considering your opinion was a threat to my authority.""I spoke sharply, too.""You had reason.""Perhaps, but I also owe you an apology for the book."He waited."I have known kindness offered with an expectation attached. Sometimes, I see the expectation before it exists.""I had none.""I am beginning to believe that."Benedict's expression gentled. "Would you be willing to borrow the volume? Then its return can be the only obligation between us."Marian laughed softly. "I can manage a library loan."