Chapter 23

Daniel

June 1862, one year later

The train steamed into Oxford station several hours later than scheduled. There had been an exasperating delay some two thirds of the journey in from London while a broken rail was attended to. And now, with darkness falling, he still had to endure a two-hour carriage ride back to Stanton Hall. Daniel considered for a moment stopping at his Oxford house for the night and resuming his journey in the morning but discarded the idea.

With a sigh, he descended from the train onto the platform. He was travel weary, and all he wanted was to be back home and to see Ambrose again. Over this past year, they had continued to go their separate ways at the start of each month, but the separation had not become any easier. He missed his friend desperately.

The London season had been in full swing. Daniel had attended various balls and soirées, danced with countless aspiring debutantes and exchanged pleasantries with the doyens of high society. Then of course, there had been his obligatory visit to Tremayne's. It had achieved its objective. He had slaked his lust until the same time next month. But the whole thing—the society balls, the debauched frolics and London in general—had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be with Ambrose.

Briskly, he walked down the platform, travel case in hand, looking for his coachman. He had sent word to Stanton Hall to have the carriage waiting for him at the station. He looked all around but could see no sign of it. He made enquiries with the clerk in the ticket office and the porter on the platform. Neither of them had seen any sign of his carriage. He huffed in frustration. There was nothing for it. He would have to walk to his Oxford house on St Michael's Street and bed there for the night. It was only a few minutes' journey away.

He set out, walking rapidly, wanting to get there as soon as he possibly could. At last, he turned into his street and reached his front door. Taking out his pocket watch, he scrutinised the time. Nine o'clock. He wondered if Mr and Mrs Briggs were still up, or if they had retired for the night. Well, it could not be helped. He had to stop at the house.

Daniel found the doorbell and rang it. There was a long delay, during which no doubt Briggs was getting himself out of bed, before the door opened and Briggs's suspicious face peeked out. On seeing his master, his expression relaxed into a perplexed smile as he held the door open. "My lord, welcome," he said. "We were not expecting you."

"A train delay, Briggs," replied Daniel laconically. "I am sorry to put you out of bed, but could you see to having my room prepared and some water brought up?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the aged butler. "I will get to it at once. Please do come into the drawing room. I shall ask Mrs Briggs to bring you some tea, and a bite to eat perhaps?"

Daniel smiled at the butler gratefully. "Thank you, Briggs."

"Of course, sir," replied the butler, lighting a taper and taking it through to the drawing room, where he proceeded to illuminate the room. He left then to do his various tasks, leaving Daniel alone in the richly furnished chamber. He sat down in an armchair and idly reached for a book that had been left on a side table, no doubt by Ambrose. He looked at the spine. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens—a favourite of his. He had mentioned it to Ambrose some time ago. Was that why Ambrose had taken the volume out of the Stanton Hall library to read? Daniel smiled at the thought.

He leafed through the book, reading passages to pass the time until a knock at the door heralded the arrival of Mrs Briggs, bearing a tea tray and sandwiches. "My lord," she said as she entered the room. "It is good to see you."

"And you, Mrs Briggs," replied Daniel. "I hope you are well?"

"As well as can be expected," mumbled the housekeeper. She set the tray down on the table then said, "Your bedchamber will be ready presently, my lord. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, Mrs Briggs, I thank you," replied Daniel pleasantly. "This is all more than enough."

She bobbed a curtsy and left him. Putting the book back down on the table, Daniel helped himself to some tea and a plate of sandwiches. Ah, that was much better, he thought some minutes later. He stretched his legs out and sighed. He supposed he should head upstairs to his room. With an effort, he got to his weary feet, taking a candle with him to light his way. He stepped into the hallway, catching sight of the back door, and paused, remembering that fateful night he had followed Ambrose as he sneaked out to have his tryst with his mistress. Something made Daniel go to that door now. The key was in the lock, so he twisted it open and let himself out into the quiet of the night.

A welcome breath of fresh air fanned his face as he stepped out into the garden. Just three nights ago, he thought miserably, this would have been Ambrose moving furtively in this space, going to visit Lexie Forbes. Daniel looked towards the next house, imagining it. He knew he should stop. He was merely torturing himself, thinking about Ambrose and his mistress. But just like a tongue returning repeatedly to lick a cut lip, he had to revisit the site of his wound.

That was when he heard it—a faint noise coming from the next house. He listened carefully. Was that the cry of a baby? The noise came again, a little louder this time. From where he stood, he saw the door open in the next house, and a white-robed figure step out into the night. She held a fractious child in her arms and was busy trying to soothe it.

Without conscious thought, his feet took him forward. As he got closer, he saw who it was. "Mrs Forbes," he called out.

She turned to him with a start, holding her child protectively, expression fearful until he was close enough for her to recognise him. "Viscount Stanton," she said tremulously. "You gave me quite a fright."

"Pardon me. I did not mean to do so." His eyes were glued to the child she was holding. "And who is this little one?" he ventured to ask.

She looked down at the bundle in her arms, an affectionate smile lighting her face. "This is Emily Seraphine Forbes, my daughter," she said proudly.

He came closer and peered down at the little scrap of life being bounced in Lexie's arms. "How old is she?" he enquired.

"A little over five months," came the reply.

Daniel stared at the baby's wide grey eyes and fuzzy mop of blond hair. Pieces of the jigsaw were falling rapidly into place—Ambrose's febrile excitement last January and his anxiousness to be gone to Oxford. Daniel had chalked it to impatience to be with his mistress, but that was not what it had been. He had been impatient to see his newborn baby. Daniel did some quick mental calculations and realised that this child must have been conceived on that fateful night he had followed Ambrose out into the garden. The knowledge had him dumbstruck for a full minute while he continued to stare. The baby had ceased her grousing and taken an interest in the tall stranger addressing her mother as well as in the bright candle he held in his hand.

This was Ambrose's daughter. A myriad of emotions swept through Daniel as he stood glued to the spot. Ambrose had a child, a beautiful little girl. This was the child Daniel could never have given him. Instead, it was Lexie who had gifted him with this miracle. Jealousy, envy and joy swirled in his chest, followed by a deep sadness for Ambrose. This was his daughter, yet he would never be allowed to claim her publicly as his.

"She has his eyes," he said huskily.

Lexie did not pretend to misunderstand him. "Yes," she agreed softly, "she has."

He stepped closer and ran a finger along the baby's soft, downy cheek. "She is perfect," he whispered.

"And stubborn, just like her father," added Lexie.

Emily batted her fists at him in excitement. He touched a finger to one small, delicate hand and found it engulfed in a surprisingly strong grip. He laughed in delight. He looked up at Lexie and asked, "Please, may I hold her?"

She hesitated a fraction, as if wondering if he were angry at the discovery that Ambrose had a daughter. Something in his expression must have reassured her, for she said, "Yes, of course."

He placed the candle he held onto a wooden bench and put his hands out. With great care, he took the small bundle of life into his arms, gathering her close to his chest. He rocked her gently, smiling down into those wide grey eyes.

"You are a natural with children, my lord," said Lexie approvingly.

He grinned. "Would you believe it if I said this was the first time I have ever held a babe in my arms?"

"I would not!" she retorted. "You do it so well."

"A part of me always thought he would be a father one day. Not me, though," he said, his eyes still glued to the child in his arms.

"Why not, my lord? You are still too young to write off your future in such a way."

He looked up at her then. "Call me Daniel," he commanded. Abandoning all pretence, he added, "Ambrose has spoken to you of me, I suppose—of my feelings for him."

She did not answer immediately, seemingly unsure what to reveal. Finally, she murmured, "He has told me everything."

A sharp stab of pain cut into his heart. Of course, Ambrose would confide in the woman he loved. Daniel leaned down to kiss Emily's little forehead. "Then you will understand," he said quietly, "why it is I say that I will never marry."

"Do you love him that much?" asked Lexie softly.

"He is everything to me." Daniel's chest heaved with the emotion he was trying to keep in check. His voice thick with pain, he added, "But you have nothing to worry about in my regard, Lexie. He is all yours. He merely allows me into his life as a friend."

He rocked the baby gently, leaning down to breathe in her sweet scent. She was a part of Ambrose. And just as he loved Ambrose fiercely, he knew too that he would love this precious child of his. Looking up, he caught Lexie's troubled gaze and smiled sadly. "It is alright, Lexie," he assured her. "There is no need for tears. As long as he is in my life somehow, as a friend, then I can be satisfied with my lot. There is much to be thankful for, foremost of which is the miracle of this beautiful girl. How precious she is."

Lexie nodded, her eyes glazed with the tears he had asked her not to shed. "You know he cares greatly for you," she said hesitantly.

"I know. I am truly blessed to have him as my friend." Daniel smiled widely, trying to ease her worry. Lord, he had not come to Oxford to inflict his woes on this kind woman.

"May I ask something, Lexie?" he added quickly.

"Of course."

"Would you mind if I came to visit?" he asked her. "I would not do it at the same time as Ambrose, so you may have your private time with him. But on other occasions, may I come to see you, and Emily? I would wish to be a part of her life, if you will allow me."

Now the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, God forgive him. She took a deep breath in and replied, "I would welcome your visits, Daniel, and so will Emily."

"Thank you," he whispered. "You are kind-hearted, Lexie, and I quite understand why Ambrose loves you so much."

She nodded, if anything looking more distressed. He glanced down at the babe in his arms one last time. Her eyes had fluttered shut, long dark lashes fanning her face. "I believe she has fallen asleep," he murmured very softly.

"Your voice must have lulled her to sleep. It is the same when Ambrose is with her." She held out her arms, and with the greatest care, he gave back that precious bundle. She held her baby close and whispered, "Well, I shall bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight Lexie and God be with you."

With one final smile, she turned and made her way back inside. Daniel lingered a few moments more in the stillness of the night. Then, heaving a long breath, he picked up the candle and returned to his house.