Page 86 of The Duchess Audition

“Not much, no.” Anthony tried to keep his tone light, refusing to let himself fall back into old frustrations.

Over the past week, he had been doing his best to be more attentive to his son. The only problem was, William did not seem to want the attention, sticking to his bedchamber or the gardens, playing alone or reading some of the books that Marina had picked out for him.

Once, the boy had gone missing… and been found after a panic-stricken hour at the Dower House on the other side of the estate.

It had taken every shred of willpower that Anthony possessed not to lose his temper at that, but he had managed a calm chiding instead.

A few minutes later, Anthony turned toward a muddy paddock, leading William up to the wooden fence. The stablemaster was already there, his hand on the bridle of a dun-colored pony.

“Here we are,” Anthony said with a nervous smile, gesturing to the creature as the stablemaster guided it closer.

William frowned, his expression surprisingly stony for an eight-year-old child. “Where? It’s a field.”

“It is not the field, it is what is in the field,” Anthony replied. “That is your new pony. He is four years old and I mean to teach you to ride him.”

He waited for the enthusiasm and the joy to come, but it did not. The boy just stared at the pony, his frown deepening, then back up at his father.

“Do you think this will make me forget?” William asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Anthony expelled a rough breath. “It is a gift, William. It is not meant to do anything but cheer you up.”

The boy nodded slowly, his lip curling… and Anthony could already tell that this was not going to go the way he had planned at all.

“You’re trying to buy my forgiveness,” William said. “You think that if you invite me to read in your study or if you ask if you can play a game with me, that I’ll just forget about everything.”

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Forgiveness for what, exactly? I have not done anything.”

“Marina is gone because of you,” the boy retorted, eyes flashing. “I don’t want your gifts. I just want her to come back.”

The stablemaster halted with the pony halfway to the fence, evidently realizing that now was not a good time to introduce the animal.

“Marina left of her own accord,” Anthony replied sharply. “She wanted to leave.”

“No, she didn’t.” William’s face began to turn red. “She told me so herself.”

A flame of anger flickered to life in Anthony’s chest. “When did she say that?”

“When she was leaving,” William answered tartly. “She said she thought she’d let you down, that you didn’t trust her to take care of me anymore. She didn’t want to go, not permanently, but I heard Mrs. Havers telling the cook that you planned to annul the marriage. I know that means you don’t want Marina to come home. I know you sent her away.”

The flame died, replaced with grim surprise. “You should not be eavesdropping.”

“And you shouldn’t be making me lose another mother!” William shouted. “I know my real mother tried to kill me. I heard that too. And I’m glad I did, because you would never have told me! You don’t tell me anything!”

It was a second stroke of shock, well aimed.

Anthony had planned to never tell his son more about his mother beyond the fact that she died. There were things a child did not need to know.

“I know she was in an asylum,” William added, his bottom lip trembling. “But Marina was good, and you don’t want her to come home.”

Anthony stared at his son, who had his mother’s eyes, and felt his heart crack afresh. All this time, William had known more than he let on, carrying that burden with him. To hear such things without further explanation must have been a torment for him.

Gingerly, Anthony rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “She was not well, William. When she tried to… hurt you, she was not well. That is why she went to the asylum, because it was the only place that could help her. It is… like a hospital, but for maladies of the mind.”

“Maybe you should have let her succeed, then you wouldn’t have to pretend to like me,” the boy murmured, his throat bobbing.

“Do not say that.” Anthony sank to his knees, holding his son by the arms. “Do not ever say that. You are my son and I love you. I am not sorry, not for a second, that I saved you that day.”

William scrunched his nose, frowning. “You… saved me?”