Her new life stood before her, one that she was excited to live. What might come from it? Where might it lead to? She had no idea, just as she knew one thing to be true: it couldn’t be worse than what she was leaving behind.
Chapter Five
“Your Grace…” Miss Spencer’s voice came from across the room.
Evander Lockridge, the Duke of Ironvale did not turn around when he heard Miss Spencer speak. He stood by the window -- that which gave him a view of the front of his home -- and he fixed his gaze out that window, his attention saved for his newly arrived guest.
He watched as Miss Finch walked up the driveway, nothing more than a single bag thrown over her back. She was moving into this house permanently, so that one little bag must have held every item of clothing that she owned.
She was dressed simply too, her dress made of thick wool, her brown hair worn out and a little messy, a true commoner in every sense of the word. Yet, as she approached Evander’s home, she smiled. There was joy on her face, and it grew as she tiltedher head back to take in his home as if it were a new world to which she was finally welcome.
With her walked a young boy, a year older than Aaron, and he laughed as he raced ahead. She called after him, but she did not chase. Their laughter rose from the street, and it swept through the room where Evander stood watching as if it mocked him.
When was the last time that I laughed like that? No… when was the last time that I made my son laugh like that? If ever…
“Your Grace,” Miss Spencer spoke again, clearing her throat.
“Yes?” he said without turning around. Still, he watched Miss Finch with unabated curiosity, narrowing his eyes as she slowly approached the front of the house.
“Miss Finch has just arrived, Your Grace,” Miss Spencer said.
“I can see that for myself, Miss Finch.”
“Would you like to speak with her again?”
“I do not see the point.”
“Is there anything you would like?” she asked.
“My son,” he said. “I would like to speak with him before he meets Miss Finch. Send for him, thank you.”
“Of course, Your Grace. And just to keep you abreast, once I finish showing Miss Finch and her brother to their rooms, I will happily detail to Miss Finch what is expected, her day-to-day. The do’s and the do not’s.” She tittered to herself. “Once that is done, I will introduce her to Master Aaron.”
Evander knew all of this. Indeed, they had discussed it already. So, Miss Spencer was telling him that this was not the reason that she had come to see him.
He sighed and turned to find the elderly woman lurking by the doorway. Most of the staff, indeed, most people in Evander’s life, would cower when they found themselves before his menacing glare. He did not wear it on purpose, but it was trained into him, a way to temper his emotions and project a gait of power and command.
Miss Spencer, however, did not flinch. She knew him too well to truly fear him, and she was perhaps the only person in the world who treated him like someone other than the terrifying Duke who ought to be feared.
For that, he was always grateful…
“Is there something else, Miss Spencer?” he asked her. “I doubt you came to see me to tell me what I already know.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I suppose it was silly of me to try and be subtle, wasn’t it?”
He said nothing. He just looked at her, waiting.
“Yes, well…” She sighed. “I was thinking, when Master Aaron meets Miss Finch for the first time, it might be nice if you were there with him. He does not show it, but he’s scared, Your Grace. Meeting new people, not knowing how to behave or what is expected of them. With you by his side, it might…” She clicked her tongue. “It might provide him with so much-needed stability.”
Evander’s expression remained perfectly flat, even if his insides twisted with guilt and shame.
Miss Spencer’s words were correct, and he knew that he ought to do as she suggested. Evander was nowhere near as close with his son as he should be, and small gestures like this would do a world of good. But did he want such a thing? Did he desire a relationship like that with his son?
Deep down, Evander might say that he did. He had never had such a thing with his father growing up, so perhaps that was what his own son needed to keep him from turning into another dispassionate, emotionally empty adult like Evander was? Sadly, knowing this and doing anything about it were two different things.
“That will not be necessary,” he said. “Aaron is seven now, and he does not need me treating him like a babe still at his mother’s teat.”
“Perhaps… or perhaps, showing him that you are there for him will go a long way toward –”