It Had to be the Duke - Christi Caldwell Page 0,29

they are loved and cared for and… wanted.”

He paused. My God, she is right. “The thing of it is, I want to know him, along with my other children, Lydia. I want to know what their lives have been like and who they are as people.” His throat moved painfully. “I want to know what dreams they have that the harsh life they’ve lived has prevented them from seeing fulfilled, and I want to make those dreams realities for them,” he said, his voice growing impassioned.

“Then that is what you tell them, Geoffrey,” she said softly. “You speak those words.” She touched a finger to his chest. “The ones you carry in your heart. And by doing so, your children will eventually come to realize you don’t see them as obligations, but as people.”

His heart thumped under the wild wings of hope. For when she presented it in that way, when she laid it out in those terms, there existed something he’d come here believing was impossible—a second chance.

Geoffrey ran his eyes over her face, a face that had lived on in his memories and dreams all these years.

A little pink blush bloomed in her cheeks. “What is it?”

Geoffrey brushed his knuckles along the graceful curve of her cheek. “What have I done without you these past years, Lydia?” he murmured, taking in the satiny feel of her skin.

Just as he’d no right to the children he’d failed to know, he also had no right to her. And God help him for being selfish, as he sat there beside her, he wanted her in his life anyway. For the forever he’d hoped to know but had never had.

He didn’t want to lose her again.

Chapter 7

What had he done without her? he’d asked.

And yet, the question could have easily been asked in reverse—what had she done without him?

Yes, she’d come to love her husband. Her life had been full. But the feelings she’d had for Geoffrey, born of their childhood friendship, had blossomed into the passionate, all-consuming love that stayed with a woman until she drew her last breath. With him, she’d always been free to be herself. And that hadn’t changed. She’d forgotten just how very much joy she’d known in just being with him. He’d never wished her to be the perfect hostess, and that same celebration of her spirit he’d revealed a short while ago reminded her all over again of why she’d loved him so very much. He’d always accepted her for who she truly was, and not the role she’d performed as perfect wife and mother for Lawrence.

Listening to him speak about having a life with his children, wanting a life with them, was so different from her late husband, who’d been content to leave matters of their children to her and the nursemaids or governesses or tutors they’d hired. Which Lydia hadn’t minded. Her children had filled her life with purpose and happiness, but she’d also not imagined there were fathers who wished to be so involved.

“I’ve missed you, Geoffrey,” she said softly. I missed him so very much.

The small Adam’s apple at his throat jumped. “And I’ve missed you so very much, too, Lydia.” His words such a perfect echo to her own thoughts that her heart fluttered anew.

Their thoughts had always been in perfect harmony.

“I need help, Lydia,” he said quietly and then spoke more quickly, his worlds all tumbling together. “I know nothing about children or, more importantly, how to make them happy. I don’t know what they want or how to convince them to have a relationship with me.” A pained laugh slipped from his lips. “And the Good Lord knows I certainly have no reason to expect that they should want to or need to.” His gaze locked with hers. “Just as I know I have no right to ask you for assistance with this, but I need—”

Lydia touched her fingertips to his lips, stopping the remainder of that statement. “Do not be silly, Geoffrey,” she said softly. “I am the one who hurt you all those years ago. You have every right to be resentful of me.”

“I could never have resented you, Lydia,” he murmured. Geoffrey caught her wrist gently in his larger, stronger fingers and raised it to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss against that flesh, and her lashes fluttered at the quixotic, silken brush of his lips upon her skin. “I was hurt and angry that you had to chose another, but I could have