Page 126 of The Sainted Duchess
“I tried, Peter. I tried to believe I could begin again, that I could build something different. But when she spoke of children, I saw graves. I can’t make her carry that.”
“She doesn’t want to carry it,” Peter said. “She wants to walk beside you.”
Stephen gave a faint shake of his head. “And I can’t let her.”
For a moment, Peter said nothing. Then, quietly, “You’ll lose her.”
“I already have.”
“You’ll lose yourself next.”
“Perhaps that’s fair,” Stephen said.
Peter stared at him, jaw working.
“Do you remember when we were twenty? You used to talk about what sort of man you’d be. You said you wanted to live differently from him. To be better.”
“I’ve failed that,” Stephen murmured.
“You haven’t failed until you stop trying,” Peter said.
Stephen looked at him then, and for the first time in days, the haze in his eyes cleared. He looked hollow but present. “You mean well,” he said softly.
“I always do.”
“It rarely works.”
Peter allowed a faint grin. “True. But it’s worth the attempt.” He straightened his coat. “I’ll tell Violet you’re alive. She’ll send soup whether you want it or not. Eat it. Sleep. Think. And for God’s sake, stop feeding your father’s portrait all the victories.”
When he reached the door, Stephen’s voice stopped him. “Peter.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me I’m still the one choosing this.”
Peter’s expression gentled. “Then choose something that hurts less.”
He left.
Stephen sat alone again, the fire reduced to faint light. He set the brandy aside untouched and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Let her be happy.”
“Are you certain you’re well enough for this?” Nicholas asked, offering his arm as they stepped into the street.
Violet and Nicholas had convinced her to step out of the house. It was annoying, at first. But she was trying to convince herself that it was the right thing to do.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” Maria said. “You’ll see.”
Violet tucked her hand into Nicholas’s other arm with a bright, determined smile.
“And we shall all see the festival by the river and purchase something ridiculous we don’t need. That is the point of festivals.”
“I have never been to one,” Maria admitted. Such things were not encouraged at the nunnery.
