Chapter Ten − Different Perspectives
“Lord Stanhope and Lady Eleanor.”
The moment the butler announced their arrival, Diana’s heart began to dance wildly in her chest and she tried to inhale deeply, hoping to banish the telling signs of her excitement before her guests would enter.
Rising to her feet, Diana smiled. Of course, he hadn’t come alone. After all, he was Lord Stanhope, champion of London’s code of conduct.
And yet, the night in the gardens, he had broken a rule. He had broken more than one, and it had been the best night of Diana’s life.
“Mrs. Reignold,” Lady Eleanor exclaimed, greeting her kindly, her big eyes slightly narrowed as she glanced at her brother. “How kind of you to invite us.”
“It is my pleasure,” Diana assured her, wondering if Lady Eleanor suspected anything or even if her brother had confided in her. However, one glance at the man who had so passionately kissed her only a few nights before told her that he was not the kind of man to profess his feelings openly. “Please do sit. Would you like some tea?”
As her guests sat down on the settee opposite her, Diana rang for tea, all the while watching Lord Stanhope out of the corner of her eye. He sat rather solemnly beside his sister, his gaze only occasionally meeting hers. However, when their eyes did meet, Diana thought to see a touch of embarrassment come to his face as the night in the gardens resurfaced in his memory.
Never before had Diana felt this alive, her skin humming with delight and excitement. Not even when she had thought herself in love with Lord Norwood had her heart and soul felt this content. Strange, how quickly things could change, Diana mused.
Forcing herself to focus, Diana exchanged a few pleasantries with Lady Eleanor−about the weather as well as Lord Tinwell’s ball−when all she wanted to do was speak to the young woman’s brother. He, however, remained uncharacteristically silent, his usually strong opinions silenced by the witness in the room.
As much as Diana enjoyed Lady Eleanor’s company, she could not help but wish the young woman weren’t here. Then at least, she could speak plainly.
“I hear you have a son,” Lady Eleanor said, her eyes shifting back and forth between her brother and their hostess after a prolonged stretch of silence. “How old is he?”
Ignoring the slight stab to her heart at the mention of her son, Diana worked to keep the pleasant smile firmly placed on her face. “He’s one year old.”
“I do love children,” Lady Eleanor exclaimed, her eyes suddenly aglow in such a way that Diana had to smile. “Please tell me if I’m being to forthright, but I would love to meet him.” A shy smile on her face, she glanced at her brother before returning her gaze to Diana. “As of yet, there are no children in our family, and so I’ve rarely had the opportunity to enjoy their delightful company.”
Although the thought of seeing her son made her fidget in her seat, Diana could see how much it meant to Lady Eleanor. “I do not mind at all,” she said, once again hoping that the smile still resting on her face did not seem insincere. However, as her gaze shifted to Lord Stanhope, she could see the slight narrowing of his eyes as he watched her intently.
When the nurse brought Benedict down into the drawing room, he tried to hide behind her skirts, glancing cautiously at the strangers present in his home. While Diana drew in a shaky breath at the sight of her son’s apprehension, feeling strangely contrite for not being able to put him at ease, Lady Eleanor’s face overflowed with joy.
Rising to her feet, she gently approached the boy, speaking to him in soft tones, her voice slightly melodious as she pointed at the little wooden horse he dragged behind him on a string. At first, he looked at her suspiciously, holding his precious toy clutched in his arms. However, before long, he allowed Lady Eleanor to take the horse for a turn about the room, smiling as they walked.
Staring at her son, Diana rose to her feet, turning as they walked, her eyes fixed on his little face. A heavy lump rested in her stomach, and yet, her heart seemed to bounce around her chest with joy. Blinking her eyes, Diana noticed tears clinging to her eyelashes, but she could not say if they were tears of joy or sadness.
“He is a wonderful child.” Coming to stand next to her, Lord Stanhope watched his sister for a long moment as she played with Diana’s son. Then he inhaled deeply, and Diana could feel his gaze shifting to her, her own still fixed on the little boy across the room. “I cannot say that I see a strong resemblance to his father.”
Diana drew in a deep breath before she closed her eyes for a moment and then turned to the man beside her. “Neither do I,” she whispered, her gaze shifting back and forth between her son and Lord Stanhope. “However, when I look at him, all I can think of is that he wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made that…one mistake.” She swallowed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “I would never have married his father, and he would never have been born.” Turning to Lord Stanhope, she met his eyes, relief washing over her as she read neither judgement nor disapproval in them. “I cannot bring myself not to regret that night, and yet, if it had never happened, he wouldn’t be here.” Shaking her head, Diana tried to put the chaos that lived in her heart and mind into words. “How can I open my heart to him when at the same time I cannot help but wish he had never been?”
With arms crossed before her chest, her fingernails digging into her arms, Diana looked at Lord Stanhope, wishing with all her heart that he would know what to do, that he knew what to say to set everything right.
Deep down, Diana knew that such a thing did not exist. Nothing could reconcile these two contradicting emotions.
And yet, he gave her hope.
“We all have regrets,” he finally said, glancing over her shoulder at his sister and her son. “However, regrets serve no one. They only help us understand what it is we truly want.” Stepping into her line of vision, he held her gaze. “You may regret your marriage to Mr. Reignold, and yet, I do not believe that you regret the birth of your son. Would you not have wished for a little boy like him?”
Diana drew in a shaky breath. “Yes, but he’s also my late husband’s son, and−”
“He is your son,” Lord Stanhope insisted, his eyes determined as they held hers. “He is here now, as are you. Nothing will change the past. Only the future is affected by our actions.” As though they were alone in the room, he gently placed his hand on her rigid arm, and Diana felt her muscles relax. “Allow yourself to love him. He is a wonderful boy, and if you let yourself, I have no doubt that you will be a wonderful mother for him.”
Staring into his eyes, Diana felt an all-consuming warmth engulf her. “Do you truly believe so?” Swallowing, she shook her head. “How would you know? You do not have children, do you?”
For a moment, she held her breath.
“No, I do not,” he said, putting her mind at ease. “However, having a sister almost fifteen years my junior has taught me a little about children and the way they conquer your heart no matter how many barriers you put up.” A knowing smile played on his lips as he glanced at his sister. “Believe me, you will come to love him. I only hope you will not spend too much time fighting the inevitable before you can be truly happy.” A calculating expression came to his eyes as he looked at her. Then a mischievous smile spread over his face. “Now, it is your turn to break a rule,” he whispered, and Diana’s heart skipped a beat.
“What rule?” she asked almost breathless.
***
Arthur could feel heat rushing to his cheeks as he held her gaze and saw the memory of the night in the gardens resurface. Even when he and Eleanor had entered and he had met Mrs. Reignold’s eyes had he been reminded of their kiss.
“A rule of your own making,” he finally said, attempting to push the night in the gardens from his mind…and failing to do so. “As a rule, you spend as little time as possible with your son, am I right?” Mrs. Reignold’s nodded, and her eyes narrowed in concern. “Then I dare you,” he said, speaking the same words she had used that night, “to spend the whole day tomorrow with your son.” Her eyes went wide with shock. “Play with him, share your meals, take him outside into the park for a picnic, put him to bed at night.”
Arthur held his breath, watching her as a myriad of emotions played over her face. He could see that she was terrified, and yet, almost unbearable temptation rested in her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder and looked at her son. “The whole day?” she whispered, turning back to him. “Why would you ask that of me?”
“Because I believe it would do you good,” Arthur replied. “Both of you.”
A soft smile came to her lips. “You always seek to protect me, Lord Stanhope. Why is that?”
Arthur swallowed, uncertain how to reply for although he could not escape the memory of their kiss, he had so far managed to avoid analysing its meaning to a further degree, afraid of what he might find.
Although Arthur found himself at odds, a knowing smile came to her face. “And what do I get in return?”
“In return?”
She chuckled. “If you demand I break a rule, then you need to break one yourself.”
Inhaling deeply, Arthur felt his muscles tense. Would she ask for another kiss? He wondered, and his gaze involuntarily drifted lower. Noticing, he quickly snapped his eyes back up, finding a dazzling smile on her face as she looked at him, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Only when we’re alone,” she began, and he held his breath, “call me Diana.”
Taken aback, Arthur frowned. “But that−”
“I know,” she interrupted. “However, I’m afraid I must insist on it.”
Seeing the teasing smile on her lips, Arthur could not help but return it. After all, what harm could come from calling her by her first name? “As you wish,” he said, then leant forward and whispered, “Diana.”
Later that day after he and Eleanor had taken their leave, Arthur found himself seated in the carriage on their way home, his sister’s watchful eyes on him. At first, he tried to ignore her, however, with each passing minute, that proved less and less bearable. “Is there something on your mind?” he finally asked, his tone harsher than intended.
In answer, Eleanor laughed, a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “I do believe you lied to me, dear Brother.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As far as I recall,” Eleanor began, that teasing smile still clinging to her lips, “you offered to escort me to Mrs. Reignold’s because you thought it wrong that mother had forbidden me from seeing her.” She shook her head laughing. “Even then I should have seen it coming. You, who never acts against the rules of propriety, would never have gone against mother’s wishes.” Smiling, she held his gaze. “We did not call on Mrs. Reignold so that I could visit with her, did we? You wanted to see her.”
Arthur swallowed, uncertain how to react to his sister’s accusation. After all, he had barely admitted to himself why he had felt compelled to see Mrs. Reignold−Diana−that day.
“What are you afraid of?” Eleanor asked unexpectedly.
“I beg your pardon?”
Shaking her head, Eleanor watched him. “You care for her, do you not?”
Arthur swallowed, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat.
“I do believe she is a wonderful woman,” Eleanor said when he remained quiet, “and that you would suit each other.”
“You do?” Arthur asked rather surprised. So far he had done his utmost to ignore the nagging feeling that they in fact did not suit each other. “We are nothing alike.”
A big grin came to Eleanor’s face. “Exactly.”
Arthur frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Where you are rational, she is emotional,” Eleanor explained. “Where she is impulsive, you are cautious. You complement each other, and together, you can help each other see the world from a different perspective.”
Staring at his little sister, Arthur felt awed. “I had no idea you were so wise.”
A slight chuckle escaped her before her eyes grew serious. “We have not spoken much in the past few years, have we?” she asked, regret clear in her voice. “Somehow you’ve become less of a brother and more of a father, who seeks to protect me. When I was little, you were the one I told all my secrets to, but now…” She shook her head. “Something has changed.”
Arthur nodded, knowing it was true. “You’re right,” he mumbled, “and I, too, regret that we’ve drifted apart.” Then he leant forward and grasped her hand. “But that changes now. I do want to be the one you share your secrets with, and I shall try and share mine with you.”
Eleanor smiled, gently squeezing his hand. “I would like that very much, big brother.” Then she leant toward him and whispered conspiratorially, “Just a little sisterly advice: admit to yourself how you truly feel about Mrs. Reignold before Mother has you engaged to a suitable bride and there is no turning back.”
Reminded of his mother’s list of potential brides, Arthur stared at his sister, knowing only too well that although she had already honoured her own advice, her own future would in all likelihood see her married to a suitable husband and not the man she loved.
Gritting his teeth, Arthur vowed that he would do everything in his power to change his mother’s mind and allow his sister her happily-ever-after.
After all, stranger things had already happened.
And to him no less.