Page 62 of A Highly Unlikely Duchess
“They were good together,” Emily said. “I’m sure they loved you very much.”
“Yes,” Frederick said. He looked at the garden. “I think so.”
“From the time your mama was very small, she used to take flowers from your grandmother's garden and hide them on her body. Your grandmother would find petals everywhere, in the washing, in the books, once in the soup.” She paused. “Your grandmother was not pleased about the soup.”
Frederick giggled. He turned his head slightly. “Do you miss her?”
“Every day,” Emily said. “Every single day.”
Frederick was quiet again. Then he let out a sigh and fiddled with his fingers. “Do you think she knew she was going to leave?”
Emily set down the daisy she was holding.
She looked at the back of his small head and thought about truth, and about what a six-year-old boy needed to hear.
“I think,” she said carefully. “That she did not want to. I think leaving you was the hardest thing she ever did.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, crossing them over his small chest, and felt him lean back into her immediately. “I think that wherever she is now, she is watching you in this garden with daisies in your hair and she is laughing.”
Frederick reached up and put both his small hands over her arms.
“Is she watching now?” he said.
“Right now,” Emily said. “Absolutely.”
They sat like that for a while longer, the afternoon warm around them, neither of them in any hurry to move. Frederick had gone comfortable and loose against her, and Emily was looking at the garden, thinking about Anne, thinking about how strange and good it was to be sitting here, in this garden, in this life she had not planned, when a voice came from the direction of the gate.
“I see the picnic has started without me.”
Emily looked up.
Theodore was coming through the garden gate, his coat already off, his sleeves rolled up, and a basket in one hand.
Frederick twisted around in Emily's lap. “You are late,” he said.
Emily’s eyes widened, shocked by Frederick’s remark. Only a few weeks ago, the boy had been unable to look Theodore in the eye.
“I am aware,” Theodore said gravely. “I was waylaid by Mr. Briggs, who had a great deal to say about the cutting garden andno intention of saying it briefly.” He set the basket down on the blanket and looked at Frederick. “You have daisies in your hair.”
“Emily put them there,” Frederick said.
“I see.” Theodore looked at Emily. “Why’d you put daisies in his hair, Emily?”
“Because I wanted to,” she answered, biting back a smile.
Theodore shook his head slowly and let out a dramatic sigh. Then he looked at the basket, then at Frederick. “Well, Frederick? Since you have been locked in that nursery for an eternity, I thought perhaps we should see if you still remember how to run. There is a game I used to play that involves a very large amount of running. Are you up for it?”
Frederick was on his feet before the sentence was finished.
Emily laughed. “He has been asking to go outside for three days,” she said. “I would not stand between him and running if I were you.”
“Noted,” Theodore said and smiled at her... a smile that caused her breath to hitch. “Do you know how to play chase?” he said to Frederick.
Frederick stared at him. “Everyone knows how to play chase.”
“Good,” Theodore said. “Then you will know that the rules are very simple. You run. I chase, and when I catch you —”
Frederick was already running.
Theodore looked at Emily. She looked back at him. He set off after the boy with the ease of a man who was not actually trying very hard yet, and Frederick shrieked as he sprinted, excited to be chased.
