28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Alex fidgeted nervously as he awaited Mary's arrival, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had chosen this secluded spot in Islington Fields for their meeting, far from prying eyes and the risk of gossip, for the matter at hand was of the utmost delicacy and consequence.

The gentle summer breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and the azure sky stretched overhead, dotted with fluffy white clouds. It was a picture of serenity, yet Alex's heart was anything but calm. He smoothed his hands over the picnic blanket the footman had laid out, taking a deep breath in an effort to steady his nerves.

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew his attention, and he turned to see Mary's carriage approaching. His breath caught in his throat as she stepped out, a vision in a vibrant red linen dress that complemented her dark eyes and hair, but it was the small figure trailing behind her that captured his gaze – a young boy, no more than five years old, with a shock of light brown curls and a shy demeanour.

Henry Brook, the child Mary claimed was his son.

As they drew nearer, Alex studied the boy intently, his heart pounding in his chest. He searched for any hint of familiarity in the child's features, any trace of himself that might confirm Mary's assertion.

Mary greeted him with a warm smile, her voice carrying a note of confidence that belied the gravity of the situation. "Your Grace, thank you for arranging this meeting. I know how much it must mean to you to finally meet your son."

Alex swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between Mary and the boy. "Mary," he acknowledged, his voice tight. "And this is...Henry?"

Alex watched, transfixed, as Mary gently nudged Henry forward. The boy resisted at first, clinging shyly to his mother's skirt, his large blue eyes regarding Alex with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Clearing his throat, Alex adopted his most formal tone, the one he typically reserved for affairs of state and high society events.

"Master Henry," he began, inclining his head respectfully. "I am Alexander Fitzwilliam, Duke of Somerton. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He paused, searching for the right words. "I would very much like for us to be...friends."

Henry's gaze flickered uncertainly between Alex and his mother, but before he could respond, his eyes landed on the picnic feast laid out before them. Alex followed his line of sight, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observed the array of cold meats, cheeses, small game pies, fruit tarts, and more.

"Please, Henry," he said, gesturing towards the blanket. "Help yourself."

The boy looked back at Mary, who gave him an encouraging nod. With that, Henry's shyness seemed to evaporate, and he eagerly dove into the spread, his earlier trepidation forgotten in the face of such a tempting array of treats. Alex watched, both amused and charmed, as Henry devoured the food with unbridled enthusiasm, his manners leaving much to be desired but his joy evident in every bite.

As Henry reached for one of the plum tarts – Alex's personal favourite – the Duke couldn't help but chuckle. "Those are my favourite as well," he confided, leaning back on his elbows. "In fact, when my brother Richard and I were about your age, we once stole an entire tray of them from the kitchen and ran off to eat them all in a tree."

Henry's eyes widened, and a delighted giggle escaped his lips. "I'm the best tree climber in the whole world!" he declared, his mouth still half-full.

Alex raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Is that so? Well, I'll have to see it to believe it."

Without further prompting, Henry scrambled to his feet and dashed towards the nearest oak, his small frame scaling the trunk with surprising agility. Alex watched, his heart swelling with an unexpected fondness as the boy clambered higher and higher, his laughter ringing out like music in the warm summer air.

Alex watched with a mixture of pride and amusement as Henry scampered up the oak tree with the nimbleness of a squirrel. The boy's small fingers gripped the rough bark. His feet finding purchase in the knots and grooves as he ascended higher and higher, his laughter ringing out like music in the warm summer air.

"Henry!" Mary chided, a note of exasperation in her voice. "You'll ruin your new suit, climbing about like that!"

But Alex merely waved a dismissive hand, a fond smile playing across his lips. "Nonsense, Mary. It's the duty of little boys to get dirty and ruin their clothes. Isn't that right, Henry?"

Henry paused in his ascent, his cherubic face peeking out from behind a cluster of leaves as he flashed a mischievous grin. "Yes, Your Grace!"

Mary rolled her eyes, though Alex detected a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Easy for you to say," she retorted. "You have all the money in the world to pay for new clothing."

A pang of guilt tugged at Alex's heart as he regarded Mary, her dress simple yet elegant, a far cry from the opulent finery she might have enjoyed as his wife. "How have you managed to survive thus far?" he asked, his voice gentle yet laced with curiosity.

Mary's expression clouded for a moment, and she hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. "I was... married briefly, for a time," she admitted at last. "But my husband is dead now." A flicker of something indecipherable passed across her features. "Lord Jake."

Alex arched an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story than Mary was letting on, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he turned his attention back to Henry, who was perched precariously on a high branch, his small legs swinging back and forth with reckless abandon.

"Bravo, Henry!" Alex called out, applauding the boy's efforts. "You're a natural!"

Henry opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to think better of it, his gaze flickering uncertainly towards his mother. A strange, nervous expression crossed his face, and when he finally spoke, his words were slow and deliberate, as if carefully chosen.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "I... I do love to climb."

As Henry began his descent, Alex couldn't shake the peculiar sense that there was more to the boy than met the eye. He watched, pensive, as Mary's gaze followed her son's movements, her expression a mixture of tenderness and something else, something almost... wistful.

"He's a remarkable boy," Alex murmured, his eyes never leaving Henry's small form. "In truth, he does remind me a bit of my brother Richard at that age – always getting into some sort of mischief."

Before Mary could respond, a footman came into view, his face flushed with exertion.

"Your Grace," he called out, slightly out of breath. "I'm afraid one of the horses pulling Lady Mary's carriage has cast a shoe. It would be wise to have it seen to before continuing on."

Alex exchanged a glance with Mary, reading the unspoken question in her eyes. With a nod, he rose to his feet, brushing off his breeches.

"Very well," he said. "We'll stop at the next inn with a blacksmith and have it tended to. No sense in risking the safety of the carriage on our journey back to London."