Page 13 of Falling For The Dowager

“I don’t think you can look for grandchildren from me.”

“You do not know what you shall miss.”

“I think I do.” Dickon found the courage to say the words. “I know entirely and so does she, but is it not worth that risk for a great love? A true one, the kind that you and Father share?”

With a gentle exhale of smoke, Dickon’s father nodded sagely. “I would say so, aye.”

“But I must know who she is. Is she quite your senior?” his mother pressed, and Dickon eyed the gate at the end of the fence, wondering if perhaps he might turn and leave.

“Ain’t it obvious?” The surprising question came from his father. Truly the man seemed newly inspired, for never had Dickon heard the man carry on so. “There is just one new woman freshly coming amongst us, who might catch his eye.”

A quick look flashed at his father, revealing who he had been talking of, never would Dickon have considered his pa so wise. Yet the shocked intake of breath had him looking back at his mother in worry.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she cried out, “No, you cannot Callum. She is quite, quite the old spinster. She must be near forty-five, to think—a widow, in fact.” She was deliberately lying or exaggerating. His mother, narrowed her eyes on her son's sudden calculation spurring her on, “Do you think her previous husband left her a fortune?”

“I would never demean someone so,” Dickon cut in quickly. “Nor do I care that she is of an age with me.”

“Then what possible motivation—surely, you must see what a preferable wife Anna Hilton would make?”

“I have no hopes she would ever consider me,” Dickon said. “But I needed you to know where my hopes and dreams lie. That whatever her ladyship requires of me—I am hers. To me, she is part of my family now.”

A fresh realisation claimed him, the knowledge that this was why he had visited his parents. He wanted to propose to Helena. They had been his family, and she was what he wanted his future to be. He needed someone to know his intentions and that, even if she said no, for the people who knew him best, or had at one point, to understand that he wanted nothing more in life than to spend it by the side of Helena.

His mother was in tears. She turned her face away, and Mr. Dickon pulled her close. “Now, now, my love.” He made soothing noises. It was strange to see the pair of them so entwined, but he knew his father would offer his mother the comfort she needed. And the visiting inhabitants inside would provide further distraction. If his brother, sister-in-law, and the newborn bairn didn’t pull all the focus, then Dickon was much mistaken.

Around them, the village bustled on. He could hear the sound of the Canonach family making dinner, in preparation for a sit-down meal. There was laughter captured in the wind, which stirred Dickon’s hair.

“She is a fine lady,” Dickon said, and his mother looked up, her eyes red rimmed, her face still despondent but at least she did not turn away. She sniffed but remained close by. “She might be far beyond the likes of me. I know that far too well. But I think I would feel that way if she were the daughter of a king or Anna Hilton’s sister. I love her for who she is, not because of the position her former husband held or her brother.”

Silence stretched, and Dickon glanced outwards towards the village, taking in the surrounding buildings, all familiar and known, but now freshly appreciated and brighter because of his shifting perspective. The sunshine glowed in a new way. Made all the sweeter because he had the presence of Helena to return to. She was heaven brought to earth.

“Do you want our blessing, my son?”

Dickon shifted his eyes to his father. He wasn’t certain he wanted or needed it, more that it was a strong desire for good luck. In truth, he had no knowledge of what he wanted his father to say, but perhaps a blessing would be the most appreciated. His father stretched out his hand and shook Dickon’s.

“If you are lucky, if she agrees, we’d be honoured to meet the lass,” his father said, and finally his mother moved and nodded her head.

“Aye, we would.”

And Dickon smiled; the movement reached into and empowered him. Steadying him for what he wanted. Before now, as he considered the last forty years, there had been ambitions he’d harboured and goals he’d reached for, but this was something else. A dearer, closer need that consumed him. Despite being a grown man, it was a comfort to know his father and mother were behind him entirely.

As he made his way through the family garden, saluting to the passing MacLeay boys, who shouted greetings and the suggestion that Dickon accompany them to the local tavern. There was apparently a new serving wench. Dickon waved them away with disinterest. In his pocket was the slim gold band that he had bought from the peddler. He palmed it now through his waistcoat. The glimmering band contained a little single pearl at its centre. In its depths were shiny pink and yellowed creams that had pulled him in, and he hoped would appeal to her. There was no way it compared to the elegant diamond ring she had on her left finger, but Dickon hoped this new ring would embody a new opportunity, a new life, and everything he hoped he might give to Helena, and he could not wait to ask her to marry him.

CHAPTER 9

“No,” she said. Lady Helena tried to keep her voice as steady as she could, as low and as calm as she needed it to be, staring down at Dickon, who knelt before her. It didn’t help matters. Guilt still stirred through her gut, and the fear she would lose what she had come to treasure tightened in her chest.

A look of pained hurt crossed Callum’s face as he registered the one-word rejection. Slowly he got off his knees, back to his feet, and pocketed the beautiful little ring, sliding it back into his waistcoat. With patient, steady movements, Callum stepped away from her.

“I thought you cared for me too, Helena.”

Lord above, she did. And that was part of the problem. She cared too much. So dearly. More than she had ever thought possible. She had loved Benedict the same way, perhaps it was the only way she knew how to love—with intensity, with her whole heart. And look at how that had worked itself out. He had betrayed her again and again. She too had failed him, unable to give him the child he so longed for. How on earth could she risk herself, and furthermore, so disappoint another man? She knew, of course, that Callum would make a wonderful father, and it was not her place to deprive him of that joy.

“Helena? Tell me what troubles you. Tell me why you won’t even consider it.”

In her desire to look away from him, away from his pain, she glanced out into the forest. She resisted the urge to run away. It would be better to let him leave. To allow him to rant or rave or let the stony silence she wished to hold on to reign supreme. A small part of her felt that he should never have asked her to marry in this spot. In their place where they had made love amongst the stretching green leaves, the branches, the moss, and the autumnal season changing all around them. Now it would be spoiled. These memories would now be coloured by this ill-fated proposal that she could never have said yes too. Despite wishing more than anything that she could, she might throw herself into Callum’s arms.

“Is it my lack of position? I know I cannot hope to compare to an earl⁠—”