Is that the dog Lord Russel told me about earlier? Fiona thought, recalling the story Richard had told her that night at the Burleigh house.
“The engagement was canceled before any of us knew it, and his beloved dog died around the same time. He started distancing himself from people ever since…”
“I liked this painting a lot when I was a boy, but after my dog died, I didn’t want to see it anymore. I stayed away from this room entirely.”
“Oh… I’m so sorry.” It must have taken a lot of courage for him to open up the room to Fiona, in that case. Fiona’s previously giddy mood crashed to the floor. I’ve been so insensitive, carrying on like this is all about me.
Seeing the shadow come over her eyes and realizing what it meant, Giles turned to her nervously. “Fiona? No, it’s not what you think.”
“But you—”
“It’s true that I didn’t set foot in this room for years, but please don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t a burden to bring you here. I’m grateful to you,” he insisted. Fiona looked up and dubiously met his earnest gaze. “Seeing that painting for the first time in years… Now, it reminds me only of the happy times with him, when he was still a puppy and when we ran and played together on the land.”
“Lord Giles…”
The smile on his face looked strained, but she could hear some relief in his voice as he spoke. “It was my fault my dog died, but I have so many more ordinary memories of him than I do of his cold corpse. I remember… I remember him keeping watch by my feet all night when I couldn’t sleep. I’d forgotten that.” His voice lowered to a murmur. “Funny that I would forget that after all the time we spent together…but I remember now. He was so much more to me than pain and grief too big to bury… Fiona?”
“I’m…so…sorry,” Fiona sniffled. “I didn’t…mean to!” She could not stop the tears flowing from her eyes. She didn’t understand why Giles said it was his fault, but the weight of his beloved dog’s death must have crushed him if it rendered him incapable of remembering the fun times they had shared. Fiona understood the feeling well, because the same thing had happened to her when she lost her mother.
Fiona’s mother had a weak constitution to begin with, and the direct cause of death was a common cold. But Fiona wondered whether it was her fault, because when her mother told her she wouldn’t be long for this world, her dying wish was for the Clayburn family to secure a male heir.
Had Fiona been a boy, her mother’s health might have improved. She might have lived longer.
But if Fiona had been a boy, Cecelia would have never been born.
Young Fiona didn’t know what to think. Her only recourse was to suffer.
Now, as she sobbed, Giles wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, his own eyes wide with shock. He listened attentively as the story spilled out of her, and a troubled smile came over his face.
Eventually, Fiona asked him, “How old were you when it happened?”
“Thirteen, I think.”
His heart had been broken so badly that for over a decade, he couldn’t even look at a painting that reminded him of his dog.
Time did heal all wounds, but it was cruel that time was the only ally Giles had. Fiona had been able to move on from her mother’s death because her uncle, her father, and Hans were there for her. All the crying and talking helped her make some memories of her mother’s passing that weren’t tragic. The thought that Giles had nobody like that in his life, that he distanced himself from everyone because of it—it was too much for Fiona to bear.
“I suppose…you and your dog were awfully close,” she said.
“Yeah. He was my best friend.”
When Giles told her he hadn’t cried when his dog died, a sense of helplessness overwhelmed Fiona. If only she had been in Giles’s life ten years ago. They could have grieved together.
“I’m at a loss,” Giles said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“S-sorry,” Fiona managed.
“It’s all right. So…that’s how you cry.”
Fiona looked up in time to see Giles’s face crinkle into a smile. He handed her his handkerchief, and she blinked, beholding the smile of the little boy who had held back his tears. Then Giles wrapped his free arm around her back, cradling her in a gentle embrace.
“Lord Giles,” Fiona said, “you can cry too, if you’d like.”
“You cried for me, Fiona, so I don’t need to.”
“You do need to.”
“I’m all right.”
Birds chirped outside the window. Fiona pressed her forehead to Giles’s firm chest and lingered there for a while, sitting with him in the Bancroft collection room and surrounded by art.
When her tears finally stopped and her heart settled, a realization struck Fiona. No, not that she had sobbed in front of Giles, though that was shocking enough. The real issue was that his arm was wrapped around her. They were in a very compromising position.
Their proximity had been strangely soothing, but once Fiona realized how it would look if someone were to walk in on them, she couldn’t think of anything but how dangerous it was. She could not let them remain like that! Her shoulders flinched at the thought, and she felt Giles was sure to pick up on it. And yet…
Huh?
He didn’t pull away. In fact, he pulled her even closer to him. She heard a light chuckle above her head.
Give me a break!
He was laughing at her, but not for sobbing and losing her composure. No, now that Fiona had regained her senses, Giles was enjoying watching Fiona squirm. It was better than him taking the moment too seriously, but as the person who got all worked up and cried on her own, Fiona resented him a little for it. It wasn’t her fault. Giles had confided in her about his past. Of course she would be shaken by such a heartfelt testimony. Worse, she was painfully aware of her tendency to cry over animals; Fiona once climbed a tree to save a cat, but she loved dogs just as much.