Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke's Late Wife

When night fell, Rosabel settled into the room she had occupied since arriving at Camden Hall with Georgiana a few weeks ago. Her bed welcomed her with open arms, and although tired from the days spent travelling, her eyes were drawn to the door connecting her room to her husband’s. Was he sleeping? Or did he lie awake as well? Worrying her lower lip, Rosabel drew the covers around her, feeling their soft smoothness against her skin. Then she closed her eyes, imagining strong arms holding her, and soon she drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  The door beckoned him to open it.

  Standing with his hand on the handle, Graham’s shoulders tensed, and every muscle in his body threatened to tear with the struggle coursing through him. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why was doing what he wanted equivalent to going against his better judgment? Gritting his teeth, a frustrated moan escaped his throat, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the door.

  As he closed his eyes, his mind conjured up images of Rosabel: the way her lips curled up in that amused half-smile whenever she found him tedious, the glow that had come to her eyes when they had drawn near Camden Hall that day, and the slight catch in her voice as she’d asked him to stay with them. Once again, he wondered if she regretted her answer by now. Would she answer differently if he asked her again?

  As doubts infiltrated his mind once more, Graham pushed away from the door, pacing the room. He linked his hands behind his back only to bring them forward a moment later, raking his fingers through his hair. He paced until he felt his pulse speed up and his tired body began to protest against this late night exertion. And yet, he couldn’t stop. For if he stopped, he would find himself alone in his room again, and more than that he would realize that this situation was not going to change as much as he wished otherwise.

  Hours passed as Graham continued to pace the length of his bedchamber. His breathing quickened, and small beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. But only when his eyelids grew heavy, too heavy to keep open, and he almost made contact with the wall, did he drop down onto his bed. The moment his head met the pillow, his mind abandoned its slippery grasp on reality, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  In the coming days, Graham tiptoed around Camden Hall, unsure how to fit into his old life that had so suddenly changed. Even more so when he realized he could not leave. As much as he knew he should, he wanted to stay. Again and again, he planned to leave on the morrow, only to conjure up ludicrous excuses to postpone his departure. A fortnight later, he finally admitted to himself that he had no intention of ever leaving.

  However, finally having reached a decision, Graham was at a loss after all. Nothing had been settled, except for the fact that they were all to remain under the same roof. In addition, only he was aware of this fact. The other two concerned had not been informed yet. But how ought he tell them when he could not be sure his information would be well received? Of course, Georgiana would welcome him. She would be delighted. Picturing her glowing eyes and radiant smile as she threw herself into his arms brought a deep smile to his own face.

  But what about Rosabel?

  ***

  Something had changed.

  Glancing through the small gap between the row of books and the next shelf, Rosabel observed how Georgiana and her husband sat in an armchair reading a book. Settled onto her father’s lap, Georgiana’s lips moved as she tried her best to sound out the words on the page before her. Occasionally, she stumbled, and her father would give her a hint. With their faces side by side peering into the book, Rosabel noticed for the first time how alike they looked. Sure, Georgiana more strongly favoured her mother with regard to outward appearance, but the shy, yet, delighted smile that played on her lips echoed back in the one that lit up her father’s face as well. Their eyes moved across the page in synchronization as though one mind controlled them both. Slight nuances in their facial expressions that had eluded Rosabel’s attention before now almost screamed for her to notice.

  And yet, she knew that Georgiana was not her husband’s child. At least not biologically, but in every other way he so obviously was her father.

  Throughout the following weeks, Rosabel more than once found herself turning a corner only to stumble upon father and daughter in intimate togetherness: at the pond feeding ducks, in the nursery sipping tea, in the stables discussing horses, even in the kitchen stealing cookies. With wide eyes, Rosabel observed the sudden change that had gone through her husband. From one day to the next, an impish quality had appeared in his demeanour that not only cast a spell over Georgiana but also over her. Wishing to join them, Rosabel had trouble keeping her distance and giving them the time they needed to reconnect. Occasionally, a slight pain echoed in her chest at not being included. In these moments, Rosabel felt reminded that she had only just recently joined their lives and that their connection did not run as deep yet. But she hoped it would eventually.

  For now, Rosabel decided to simply enjoy the advantages of her husband’s change of heart. While the house often echoed with joy and playfulness, it wasn’t only their voices that could be heard. Suddenly neighbours were invited for tea or even a dinner party was given. In turn, they too went to visit their neighbouring estates. After spending most of her life isolated from the world around her, mostly by her own doing due to thoughts of inferiority, Rosabel delighted in her neighbours’ company. Georgiana, too, began to thrive as burdens that had been placed on her small shoulders after her mother’s death slowly disappeared.

  “She is a beautiful child,” Ellie said, coming up behind her. “And so sweet-tempered. We are all very fond of her.” Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Georgiana and Ellie’s own younger siblings raced each other down the lawn and to the duck pond bordering her father’s estate.

  Feeling her heart swell with pride, Rosabel nodded. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see her like this. She has always been too serious, spending most of her time with adults, never getting to play and be wild.” Watching her, Rosabel felt a stab of envy as she remembered the restrictions that upon her parents’ deaths had been forced on her own life.

  “Let’s walk.” Ellie drew Rosabel’s arm through hers and led her friend down the small slope to the pavilion that had heard many of their secrets. Rosabel couldn’t help but wonder whether her cousin had something important to say.

  As they sat down on the marble bench, Ellie’s fingers fidgeted with the seam of her dress.

  “Is something wrong?” Rosabel asked, desperately hoping her cousin’s answer would set her mind at ease. When Ellie remained silent, she pressed, “Is there news with regard to your desired engagement?”

  For a second Ellie looked up, then shook her head. “No, it is nothing of the kind, but you are right. There is something I need to tell you.”

  Again their silence grew heavy.

  “Say whatever it is,” Rosabel urged as goose bumps crawled up her arms. “Your silence is making this unbearable.”

  Dropping the hem of her dress, Ellie nodded. “You’re right. I apologize.”

  “So?”

  “Well, this is still difficult to say,” Ellie said, her fingers once more searching for something to distract her rattled mind. “It is about you and your husband. There’s…,” she took a deep breath, “there’s a rumour going around.”

  Rosabel’s eye brows flew up. “A rumour? What kind of rumour?” As her pulse sped up, Rosabel concentrated on drawing one breath after another into her lunges. Please, do not let it be about Georgiana! She prayed, wondering how, if at all, anyone could have found out about the girl’s parentage. And now of all times.

  “I am not sure ‘rumour’ is the correct word,” Ellie continued, clearly seeking to avoid the details that made her so uncomfortable. “But there are whispers.”

  “What about?”

  Ellie drew in a deep breath, then closed her eyes for a second. “Well, you have been married for almost a year now, and, I suppose, people expected you to be with child by now
.”

  Letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, Rosabel felt her muscles relax. “Oh, that. I thought it was something serious.”

  “It is,” Ellie insisted, turning sympathetic eyes on her cousin. “Since your husband already has a child, people believe the fault lies with you. Believe me, if this continues on, you will find sad and pitying looks wherever you go.”

  “That may be. But it is of no concern for me. I have a child I love with all my heart. I do not need another for my life to be complete.”

  “Good.” A relieved smile played on Ellie’s lips as she took her friend’s hand. “But I hope the rumours will not take away from the happiness you’ve finally found.”

  Returning her cousin’s smile, Rosabel shook her head. “I won’t let them.” On the contrary, she was not only determined to hold on to the happiness that had already settled into her life, but sought to gather even more. Her husband’s smiling face flashed before her eyes as he gazed at his daughter. More than anything Rosabel wanted to have him look at her with the same heart-felt devotion and unconditional love.

  If only she knew how to make that happen.

 

  Chapter Forty − Honesty

  As the moon cast an eerie light over Camden Hall, troublesome thoughts drove Graham from his bed. At first, he paced the length of his room, up and down, up and down, until his hands raked through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm the erratic beating of his heart. But nothing worked. The thoughts kept coming, torturing him, and drew before his mind images he desired, and yet, feared were out of his reach.

  Pushing open the door to his room with enough force for it to collide with the wall, Graham cringed as a soft bang echoed through the night and down the corridor. For an instant, he froze in his tracks, listening.

  When all remained quiet, he strode down the corridor, his angry footsteps cushioned by the heavy rug covering the hardwood floors. His mind still occupied with the hurtful rumours that had reached his ears at the baron’s gathering, his feet carried him forward without direction. After a few turns and a staircase down to the ground floor, Graham was surprised to find himself heading for the kitchen.

  A frown creased his forehead as he realized the oddity of his situation.

  Never in his life had he spent much time in the kitchen. The only significant memory he could conjure to mind brought back the touch of Rosabel’s soft lips against his as her trembling body melted into him.

  Graham shivered wondering if his subconscious mind had carried him here for more than he was willing to admit.

  As he drew near about to push open the door, the sound of a steaming kettle reached his ears. Instantly, he stopped, leaning forward to listen.

  Light footsteps danced across the kitchen. A tea cup connected with the table top and gave off a soft clink. Then water rushed from the kettle, pouring into the cup, and a soft aroma of mint and lemon tickled his nose.

  Pushing the door ajar, Graham peeked through the gap, his heart beating as though he was a little boy sneaking out of his room after dark.

  At first, he couldn’t see anything, but then a soft rustling of fabric brought her into view.

  It was Rosabel, and his heart jumped with excitement.

  Knowing that courage would fail him any second, Graham pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

  Rosabel spun around, eyes wide, and the tea cup slipped from her hand, shattering on the kitchen floor, a deafening sound in the silence that hung about the night.

  Cringing at his clumsiness, Graham stepped forward. “I apologize for startling you.”

  A hand to her chest, Rosabel shook her head, her breath coming quick. “No, my lord, do not worry yourself.” Turning her eyes to the floor, she knelt down. “I will clean this up right away.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my lord,’ ” Graham blurted out, instantly feeling heat creep up his cheeks.

  Her eyes looked up, meeting his, and before he could die of embarrassment, Graham knelt down beside her, reaching for the remnants of the tea cup. “Let me help you with this.”

  Shard for shard he took from her hand, and each time his fingers brushed against hers sent lightning sparks down to his core. Seeing the slight tremble in her shoulders, Graham wondered if his touch had the same effect on her, but didn’t dare ask.

  Disposing of the shattered tea cup, Graham turned to the kitchen cabinets for a new one, but realized he had no idea where to look.

  Seeing him hesitate, Rosabel strode forward, her movements steady and precise, and he realized that she had to have spent a great deal of time in the kitchen to be so familiar with it. Were her nights restless too? Did she come here when sleep eluded her? The one time they had met in the kitchen at night, she had been sitting here, drinking tea in her night robe as well.

  “Would you care for a cup, my lord?”

  Again she called him ‘my lord,’ and again it burnt a hole into his heart. She had called him that many times before, after all it was appropriate, and yet, tonight he felt the heavy distance these two words carried. He wished she would call him something dearer.

  “Yes, please,” he mumbled if only to have something to hold, something to keep his hands from reaching out and touching that smooth skin of hers, sparkling in the candle light.

  Cups in hand, they sat down at the large worktable, sipping the hot liquid, and carefully kept their eyes from looking at the other. Graham could feel the awkward silence grow heavier and realized he needed to speak up now or would never find the courage to do so.

  “I am quite relieved that we met here tonight, for I happened to overhear a conversation at the Baron’s gathering today that sparked my concern.” Taking another sip, he watched her face.

  Although nothing much changed − neither did her eyes widen nor her mouth drop open − Graham couldn’t help but suspect that she was not ignorant of the rumour that seemed to be circulating at present.

  “What is it, my lord?”

  Clearing his throat, Graham rushed on as his muscles tightened around the hot cup in his hands. “People are beginning to suspect − and I suppose you know how idle gossip can grow out of control − that,” again he cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to remain on her face instead of dropping down to the hot liquid slowly burning his skin, “you are unable to provide me with an heir.”

  Whatever he had expected her reaction to be − shame, embarrassment, anger, hurt − the simple shrug that moved her shoulders before she took another slow sip from her cup rattled him to his core.

  Swallowing the sweet liquid, she turned her eyes to him. “And what is your concern, my lord? Do you wish for an heir? A child of your own blood?”

  Shocked at her boldness, Graham searched her face. Neither anger nor resentment shone in her brown eyes as they looked at him with nothing but the desire to know the truth. That Graham could understand. Relinquishing his tight grip on the hot cup, Graham leaned back in his chair. “Would you agree that, if nothing else, there should always be honesty between us? No matter what the issue?” He hadn’t known he would ask that question; his heart had loosened his tongue, bypassing his mind for approval. But once out, he felt relieved. He had to know.

  At his words, the ghost of a smile curled up her lips before she lifted her cup once more to take a small sip. “Honesty,” she mused. “Yes, honesty is never a wrong road to take.” A full smile lit up her features. “Honesty, then.”

  He nodded as his shoulders relaxed. Somehow this small word had set the foundation for a bridge that could one day span the abyss still gaping between them. “Then, to be honest, I do want an heir, yes. Someone to carry on my name, my family’s name. Someone I can trust to take care of Westmore and its people.” As their eyes connected across the table, Graham saw no need to hold back. She was his wife, and he knew she would understand. “But Georgiana is my child in every way. I know that now.” Her eyes lit up like the stars at night. “I know I cannot pass on my title to her. But if she w
ere a boy, I would have no regrets about her carrying on my family’s legacy. My blood or not, she is my child. A wonderful child.” He shook his head as a tinge of heat crept up his cheeks. “I’d forgotten how lucky I was to be her father. I will never forget again. I promise.”

  Setting the cup down on the table, her hands still curled around it, seeking its warmth. His wife leaned forward as though wishing to be closer to him. If he reached out, he could touch her hand; but he held back, knowing that rushing her could destroy the fragile connection they had formed in the past few minutes.

  “Nothing pleases me more than hearing you say this.” Her smile lit up the room more than the two small candles standing on the table ever could. “But, do you mind if I ask what brought on this sudden change of mind?”

  A shy smile dancing across his face, he averted his eyes. “I apologize for this thick skull of mine. You tried to make me see the truth time and time again, and I snapped at you. Again, I apologize. To tell you the truth,” he looked up and found her eyes on him, not judging, just observing, “I am not entirely certain when it happened. But I remember seeing the anguish on my friend’s face as he looked at her, his own flesh and blood, and yet, she could never be his. It broke my heart, and I realized how lucky I was to be the one who gets to rear her, see her every day, and have her call me ‘Father’.” Another radiant smile lit up her face, and struck by her beauty, Graham couldn’t help but stare. Seeing her avert her eyes and fidget in her chair as though embarrassed, he shook his head, trying to clear it of the improper thoughts that had occupied it. “I apologize,” he mumbled, realizing that his voice had to sound like an echo to her, considering how often he had apologized since they sat down at the table.

  For a moment silence hung in the air, and Graham could feel their connection slowly slipping from his grasp. Terrified of losing what he had only just found, he said, “Although you never held her as a baby, you loved her right away, didn’t you?”

  Another smile stripped all embarrassment from her features. “I did. I cannot explain it, but she captured my heart.” For a second her eyes drifted upward, became distant, and the dreamy look on her face told him that the memories she was replaying in her mind were among the dearest she possessed. Then her gaze returned to him. “I was always surprised to see you ignore her with such vehemence, but I know now that you were only desperate to protect yourself, your own heart.”