"I DON'T FIND you around here often," Aunt Esme said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

James inhaled the cigar once before exhaling. A cloud of white smoke gathered in front of him. He ignored the wrinkle of displeasure in Aunt Esme's eyes. "No, I don't make it a habit of visiting the gardens."

"Put that disgusting thing away," his great-aunt huffed as she settled down on the stone slab beside him, letting her walking cane lean against the small edge.

Scowling, James took one last drag before settling it beside his hat. The gardens were quite small compared to the luscious grounds of Chalcott manor, but the flowers still seemed to bloom brightly. He supposed the gardener's tender hands had done the place good.

His mind was filled with hundreds of thoughts. The most pressing one seemed to be about his betrothal. How was he supposed to proceed forward after the disappearance of Sophia? Did he need to hire someone to create a death certificate to be free of the wretched contract? What would the impact in the future be? Although James was vehemently against marriage right now, he was not foolish enough to believe that he would not require a duchess one day to continue the Lennox line.

"These gardens always remind me of your mother," Aunt Esme said a nostalgic smile.

James froze, not expecting the response. His great-aunt rarely spoke about his parents. Through the years, they had settled into the rhythm of skirting around the subject of his parents whenever it appeared. "Well, I do believe my mother had impeccable taste."

Aunt Esme's grey eyes bore into his, "No, this garden was actually constructed by your father, as a gift to the late duchess."

James's heart clenched upon hearing his father's name. He remembered the late duke as being a kind and fair man. He had vague memories of running away from his governess on more than one occasion to his father's study. James would slowly open the door, often struggling with the heavy brass. His father would hear him and turn the knob from the other side, letting him in.

The duke never turned away his son or yelled at him to return to his studies. Instead, he would perch James on his lap while continuing his work. James would pester him with questions about what he was reading or working on, and his father would answer them all patiently.

Sometime later, his mother would often appear at the study door with the governess in tow. He remembered his mother's face softening when she would see them together. She would smile and wink at them before shutting the door, leaving with a sputtering governess trailing behind her.

He had loved his father and hearing that the man had been murdered made James even angrier. The duke had done nothing but been a good man and he was taken away from his son and wife too early.

"Your mother missed the flowers that she grew in her own home and so your father constructed a garden of all her favourite flowers." Aunt Esme looked around the garden, "Every single flower here was chosen by your mother. Some of them, she planted herself. She would sit in the soil, dress covered in mud digging a hole to place the flowers. I almost had a heart attack the first time I saw her do so. It was unexpected of a duchess to be crawling among the worms and getting her fingers dirty, but your father wanted her to be happy and did everything in his power to ensure that she remained so."

James merely grunted in response, even as his own eyes took in the garden with a new light. To construct an entire garden for one person seemed rather ridiculous but his father had done it for his mother. Decades later, the garden was still thriving today, standing as a testament of time and a reminder of his parents.

"Oh, those two were so in love," Aunt Esme said wistfully. "Your father took one look at your mother, and he knew she was the one. They did not even wait until the season ended to get married. It caused quite the scandal and I advised him to take it slow, but they were in love and he did not want to be apart from her for even a second longer. Unfortunately, while the marriage was happy, your mother became someone people envied and gossiped about. The duke loved her unconditionally and was not afraid to show it while other ladies in London often had terribly unhappy marriages."

"And what good did that love and devotion do to her in the end?" James said flatly. "She died soon after his death."

Aunt Esme gave him a careful look. "Some say she couldn't bare being separated from him; she died because of a broken heart."

James snorted and spoke before he even knew what he was saying "And what about my broken heart?!"

Even if he not expected to say those words, he knew it to be true. After the death of his father, his mother never smiled. She had remained melancholy and nothing James did could coax those lips to turn upwards as they used to. Even when he sought her out, his mother would turn him over to his governess, preferring to be alone in her misery.

A hand covered his own and James froze. It was very rare that Aunt Esme gave him any sort of affection, she knew he did not like it. Nevertheless, it was a nice feeling, and he did not remove his hand from beneath hers.

"It was too much James," she said softly before clearing her throat. "Your mother loved you, even if she sometimes struggled to show it to you. You were in her heart every single moment of the day. Her dying words to me were to take care of you and show you the happiness and love she could not."

James had not known that his mother remembered him till her death. He always believed that when he left for Eton, she had forgotten her son. But if what Aunt Esme said was the truth, she had remembered him. A sense of warmth spread through his body at that thought.

"Someday, when you love someone just as much as she loved your father, you will understand. I did not get the chance to experience that love, but it is my dearest wish that you do so, my dear. Maybe then you'll be able to let go of that resentment that festers in you."

"I'm not—"

"Your Grace."

James quickly removed his hand from beneath his aunt's and stood abruptly, knocking the walking cane into the grass. He picked it up, feeling rather foolish. "Yes?"

"A package has arrived from the Earl of Westmorland. I have placed it in your office." Preston said, bowing once.

James' forehead scrunched. He had not exactly spoken to the Earl after leaving his townhouse to deal with Sophia. He had no idea what the Earl would be sending him. Clearing his throat James said, "Thank you for informing me. I'll be right there."

He looked back at his great-aunt, who almost had a sad and nostalgic smile playing upon her lips. "Oh James, don't you worry about an old lady like me. I'll be fine," she said in a gruff voice.

James glanced at her once, still deep in thought before he nodded, "I'll see you at dinner."

She did not respond, still thinking about what, James did not know. Pushing their conversation out of his mind, he walked back inside the house, briskly making his way to the office. James saw a small package covered in a brown sheet laying neatly on his desk. There was a simple note attached to the top of it.

Our conversation was cut short last week Lennox, but I hope this satisfies whatever curiosity raised your hackles. I cannot undue the actions of my foolish brother, but I have spoken to my solicitor and will be in touch soon.

-Westmorland

James tossed the note to the side and ripped opened the package. His fingers traced the painting in confusion, it was a miniature of a small blonde-haired girl with green eyes. There was some familiarity upon seeing the girl's expression, but he did not understand why the earl believed he would be interested in it.

Grabbing his quizzing glass, he held it over the miniature, taking in every detail. The artwork was done expertly with rich colours, and fine strokes. With the quizzing glass hovering over the painting, he tried remembering why it looked so familiar. The child was wearing a necklace, but only the chain was visible. He frowned, had he seen the child before? Or the necklace?

And then it came to him, and the miniature slipped from his hand, creating a small thud as it fell onto the carpets. He grabbed the nearest chair and sank into it.

He let out a bitter laugh. Oh, he had been extremely foolish, it had been under his nose the entire time. The door to his study opened with a brief knock as Preston walked in. "I heard a loud noise; is everything alright Your Grace?"

James took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. Ignoring his butler's question, he issued a command. "Bring Lady Vivienne to me at once." 

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We learn quite a bit about James in this chapter and why he is the way he is. Why do you guys think James has summoned Vivienne? Also, sorry about the shorter chapter, I split this into two because it was too long.