Page 65 of The Earl and His Lady

“What would you think of me, marrying the earl?” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed, his image in her heart. “He’s a good man. He is kind to the boys, very respectful and understanding of me. He asks for little in return. He is even here, helping me—helping Phillip.”

What would Charles think of Lucas?

“You can tell a man’s character by how he treats those beneath him in society. Does he hold the lives under his care as cheap? Does he use his influence and means to better his own standing or to lift others? That is how I measure a man.” He’d told her those things when she asked why he was so particular about his friends. That had been years and years past, when they were still courting.

“Lucas is good, Charles. He is the best of men.” Virginia smiled to herself, a tear slipping from beneath her eyelids.

The memory of Lucas’s fear when he learned of her visiting the sick, his plea for her to stay away, came to her again. He wanted her safety and health; he could not bear to think on her falling ill.

Because that’s how he had lost Abigail. Because he would not lose her too.

“I think he cares for me, Charles. As more than a responsibility.”

“A man would have to be deaf, blind, and dumb not to love you,” Charles had said, more than once. Was it possible that Lucas could hold her in such regard? He had loved his first wife dearly, had mourned her loss deeply, and still held her memory close. And was it right, to love another as she had loved Charles?

Did she wish to?

“I love you, Charles,” she said, the tears silently falling from her eyes. She opened them, looking down at the grave marker again.

“I love you, Virginia.” She could never tally all the times he had spoken those words to her, and they were a balm to her aching heart even now. She had been loved, treasured, cared for in a way some women would never know.

And you need to love again.

Virginia gasped and raised a hand to smother the sound, her eyes darting around to discover the source of those words. It had sounded like— Charles had never said such a thing to her. Even in all their discussions before he became too ill to speak. He’d never—

Her heart thrummed, as it always had in his presence. A breeze drifted across the grass and around her, skimming against her cheek, bringing with it the scent of summers past, the warmth of the sun, the scent of newly-mowed hay and wildflowers.

Peace settled upon her, calming her whirling thoughts and weary heart.

Could it be possible that Charles would speak to her in such a way?

Virginia breathed deeply, trying to clear her head, to make sense of the moment. Charles was gone. Surely, she'd been imagining the words. Yet why did she feel such peace come over her so suddenly? Peaceful thinking on loving another man, while standing above the grave of her beloved? Could such feelings coexist? Grief and peace?

Tucking the moment into her heart, determining she would examine it later, Virginia looked to the sky to try and ascertain the hour. It was early yet. She had time to return to Heatherton Hall without drawing notice to her departure from it.

She started back, casting one last look behind at the graveyard before entering the trees and losing sight of the church. She would be able to come again, she knew, and it would be easier.

“Virginia.”

She spun around, her hand going to her heart. Leaning against a tree, his jacket unbuttoned, cravat loosely wrapped around his throat, stood Lucas Calvert. Dark half-circles under his eyes, the shadow of stubble lining his jaw; she’d never seen him so exhausted.

“Lucas.” She lowered her hand, tangling her fingers in her shawl. “What are you doing here?”

“My window faces the eastern meadow.” He slowly pushed himself upright, but he did not approach her. “I was waiting for the sun to rise. I saw you leave, all alone, and after last night—” He lowered his eyes to the ground. “I wanted to be sure you were safe. I followed you. But when I realized your destination, I waited here. I had no wish to intrude upon your privacy.”

Virginia studied him, from the top of his uncovered blond head to the boots on his feet. Obviously, he’d come after her in great haste, his appearance less than appropriate. It reminded her of the night Edward had started coughing, when Phillip had sent Lucas to check on the little boy.

“Thank you for your concern.” She adjusted her stance, trying to understand the man before her. “You thought I would go to the Johnsons’ home?”

She saw him swallow, thanks to his poorly tied cravat, before he nodded. He raised his eyes, his expression contrite. “Yes.”

“I told you I would not,” she reminded him, and though her tone was gentle he winced.

“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked about them, taking in the empty field and the gray skies, anything but her. “You are a very determined woman, Virginia. I wasn’t certain you would hold my concern as valid enough to humor me.”

She ought to be angry with him, that he didn’t hold her word as assurance enough. But instead, the peace from the churchyard lingered about her. This man, an honorable and good soul, genuinely cared for her. Cared enough that the thought of her falling ill, the idea of her succumbing as his first wife had, brought him out of the house to follow her in the early hours of the morning.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked.