Forgotten & Remembered: The Duke's Late Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 1)

by Bree Wolf

  Gritting his teeth, Graham tried to hold back the anger that slowly built within him. Afraid of what he might do, he focused all his attention on her eyes, staring into them as though they were a lifeline out of the dark. As black as they looked with heavy clouds blocking the sun, he could still see the small sparks of hazel that danced like stars in the night.

  Lost in her eyes, he barely noticed as they changed. The stars vanished, and the night turned into an ocean of the purest blue he had ever seen.

  He looked into her face then, at the golden curls framing her rosy cheeks, at her full lips that always carried a smile but were now drawn into a tight line. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at him. “I know you mean well,” she said, and he could hear the effort in her voice at keeping her anger in check. “But you are smothering me. I will be eternally grateful for what you have done for me, but I cannot forget what was. My heart does not forget simply because I spoke vows. And I thought you knew that. I thought you understood. I thought you were all right with this.”

  He swallowed. “So did I.”

  “I have always been honest with you,” she continued, a clear reproach in her voice. “I told you from the beginning what kind of marriage this would be.”

  “You gave me your word,” he interjected.

  Again the scowl returned to her beautiful features. “I gave you my word that I would try. I could not promise you more. I have no control over my heart. As much as I wish it were so, there is nothing I can do that would change how I feel.” She gave him a quick shove, and he stepped back. “You cannot change how you feel either. Do not expect more of me.”

  Frustrated he balled his hand into a fist, slamming it into his palm. He clenched his jaw, trying to fight off the desperate need to hit something, anything. “I’m not sure what to do.” He shook his head as though mad. “I cannot go on like this. It is killing me.”

  She nodded her head, understanding, and yet, he could still see her own anger at the situation they found themselves in etched in her eyes. “Distance,” she said. “We need distance. There is no other way. To me, you’re a friend, a very good friend, but I cannot give you more. Believe me, I have tried. I just can’t.” She shook her head to enforce her words.

  He stared at her, knowing what she said was true, and yet, he hoped he had misunderstood her. Knowing the pain it would cause him, he still could not refrain from asking, “Do you still love him?”

  Her eyes opened wide, taken aback, before her eye brows drew down. “Do not ask me this!” she hissed, suppressed pain lacing her own voice. “I told you not to speak of him!”

  Running his hands through his hair, almost pulling them out with the roots, he paced up and down before her. “I take that as a confirmation then.”

  Her usually gentle eyes turned ablaze with anger as she came toward him. “How dare you?” she hissed, drawing back her arm and slapping him hard across the face.

  Losing all self-control, he reached for her, but she evaded him. Her hands balled into fists, she attacked him, pummelling his chest, trying to rid herself of her own anger boiling just underneath the surface.

  A distant part of Graham’s mind told him to walk away, told him that he had walked away. But not this time. He had never fought, not for himself, for his own happiness. In the line of duty, yes, but not where his own heart was concerned.

  Catching her wrists, he pushed her back against the tree, pressing into her. Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened as he bent his head down to her.

  “Stop! You−” But her words were cut off as his mouth closed over hers. Kissing her like he had wanted, dreamed of for years, Graham lost all sense of his surroundings. He did not feel the hands that tried to push him away. He did not taste the blood as she bit his lip. He did not notice the deep blue eyes changing back to a midnight black, stars extinguished by the force that had her pinned to the tree.

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Amends

  Channelling all her strength, Rosabel shoved against him, but his hold on her was too strong. The anger she had seen in his eyes before had changed with each word they had exchanged. The moment before he had started toward her, there had been madness shining in them, and it had scared her more than anything she had ever experienced.

  From what he said, she knew that he was not responding to her. His eyes rested on her, and yet, she could tell that he did not see her. Something she had said or done had carried him away to a place and time of his past. The words he said, he spoke to Leonora, and although she found herself at the receiving end of his anger, Rosabel was not immune to the pain that fuelled him.

  As he kissed her with an urgency born out of years of desire held in check, Rosabel felt herself respond, welcoming his advances with every fibre of her body. But her heart screamed for her to stop him. As much as she wanted him, she also wanted him to want her back. Right then and there, all he wanted was Leonora.

  Once again placing her hands on his shoulders, she strained to push him away, and for a second his own grip slipped and he freed her mouth. “Stop! I am not Leonora!” she said, turning her head away, trying to shake him out of his trance.

  He did not hear her though. Pinning her with his body to the tree, his hands roamed her body freely, and she drew in a sharp breath as he began to lift up her skirts. “Please! You cannot really mean to force yourself on me!”

  Instantly his hand stopped, and the hem of her dress fell back to the ground.

  Rosabel drew in a deep breath, her hands shaking as she pushed him away.

  This time he moved. Taking a few steps back, his eyes shifted to her face, staring at her swollen lips and dishevelled dress. He blinked and rubbed his hands over his face. Again his eyes sought hers, and he shook his head as though trying to rid himself of the vision that had taken him over. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Unable to look at her any longer, he turned around and walked away a few steps. His shoulders slumped as he looked out into the rain.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Rosabel shivered, if from the cold or his attack, she did not know. Her knees wobbled, and she sank down into the grass, resting her head against the tree. Her gaze fixed on his back, Rosabel felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed to dislodge the feeling, but the dread only slid down into her stomach, settling there like a block of ice.

  As much as she tried, she could not hate him. He had crossed a line, yes, but he hadn’t meant to. In a strange way he was broken. He only knew how to suppress his feelings, had done so for many years. But once they broke free, he had no control over them. They took over his body and mind, leaving him defenceless.

  Eyes shifting over his hunched figure, Rosabel wondered if he knew. Maybe he knew that if he let go, even just a little, he would lose control. Maybe that was why he pushed everyone away because he was afraid of what he might do.

  As strong as he had always seemed, Rosabel knew that he could not approach her now. She knew it would have to be her to take a step toward him. Drawing in another deep breath, Rosabel wondered if she could. If not, the only alternative would be to leave.

  Could she forgive him and try to mend their relationship? Would he even be willing to do so?

  Still unsure of what she would do, Rosabel pushed herself up, finding herself standing on shaky feet. Her wet clothes still held her in a grip of cold, intensified with each blow of wind that hit her. Overwhelmed, she turned her face away, resting her forehead against the rough bark of the tree. Could she leave him behind? From the corner of her eye, she saw Winter’s reins tied to a branch a few steps from her. She could just take the horse and leave. But could she?

  Glancing over her shoulder, her muscles loosened at the sight of his broken self, standing in a puddle as water dripped off the branches above him, running down the side of his face like the tears he couldn’t shed. He didn’t move, rigid like a stone column, trapped by demons of his past.

  Not sure where she drew the courage from, Rosabel felt herself place one foot before the other, slowly making her way through th
e slippery grass to her husband’s side.

  ***

  When the sun climbed the horizon the next morning, Rosabel turned her back, pulling the blanket over her head. She was not ready to face the world, much less her husband.

  Without a word, they had ridden home once the rain had levelled off. Seated in front of him, his arms keeping her from sliding off the horse, she had shivered, her dress doing nothing to keep her warm. And while he had made sure she wouldn’t fall, he had kept his distance, not wrapping her in his arms like he could have. She knew that he was miserable, and yet, she did not know what to do about it. How could she help him if she still did not understand what demons were lurking in his past?

  After sending grooms after Storm, that still had not returned, he had escorted her up the stairs to her room. Promising to send for Bridget and have a bath readied, he had walked away without another look.

  The distance between them had never been so insurmountable.

  Still unsure what to do, Rosabel jumped up as the door to her room suddenly flew open. In marched Georgiana, small forehead in a frown. “Good morning,” she said, climbing up on the bed. “Are you ill?”

  Clearing her throat, Rosabel shook her head. “I’m fine,” she assured the girl as much as herself. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

  “Father left again,” Georgiana said without preamble. Neither her face nor her voice could hide the disappointment aching in her heart. “Are we still to return home?” she asked. “To Westmore?”

  Realizing that she had all but forgotten about that, Rosabel shrugged. “I don’t know.” Pulling the girl into her arms, she tried to comfort her, but doubted that anything but her father’s return could put a smile back on the girl’s face. How long before she would close her heart to him? Rosabel wondered. How many more times could he leave before she stopped waiting for his return?

  ***

  As the carriage sloshed along the muddy road, Graham sat with his head resting against the back wall. Eyes closed, he continually berated himself; he had ever since her words had pulled him out of his trance.

  “Please! You cannot really mean to force yourself on me!”

  Burying his face in his hands, he shook his head. What had he done? No wonder she had run from him. Had she seen it coming?

  He had drifted away into a memory, and he hadn’t even noticed. Only the memory had ended differently. Back then, he had walked away. He had not only left Leonora, but Westmore too, giving her the distance they both needed. Months had passed in which he had rarely returned home. Whenever he had, her eyes had followed him, reminding him of what would never be. He had never stayed long. Never uttered more than a syllable in her presence. Before he could summon the courage to face her again, she had died, and he had lost his chance. Every chance of ever winning her heart.

  Still, to this day, the memory of her angry eyes and pressed lips were edged into his soul. The last words he had spoken to her had been in anger and had caused her pain. And now it was too late to even make amends. Had she ever forgiven him? If he could only have spoken to her one more time.

  Taking a deep breath, Graham once more closed his eyes. Instantly, he saw Rosabel’s face, eyes open in fear. He felt her hands on his shoulders, desperately trying to push him away.

  At the same time, he smelled the fresh scent of her hair and tasted the sweet flavour of blueberries still clinging to her tongue. Her soft skin trembled under his hands, and he felt the beating of her heart against his chest. How he had wanted her!

  Realizing what he had done, he had put a safe distance between them, trying to come to terms with his actions. Convinced she would run from him, he had jumped as her light hand had settled on his arm. Staring at her, he had heard her words of forgiveness but could not believe his ears. Seeing her shiver, he had wanted to draw her into his arms and warm her, but had checked himself at the last moment. He did not want to repulse her, not again.

  Instead, he had retrieved Winter, and with Storm nowhere around, they had both mounted the mare and headed back. Keeping her atop the horse while at the same time maintaining a safe distance had taken its toll. By the time they had reached the estate, his muscles had ached from the sheer effort of control. Leading her to her room, he had taken his leave and not looked back.

  How he had wished he could climb into the warm bath with her! Hold her in his arms. Make love to her. But it had only been Leonora’s memory that had stirred up all these feelings. He knew that now. Rosabel deserved more than a shell of a man, a man who could not control his urges. He needed to make sure she would be safe. Even safe from him. After all, he was her husband. Keeping her safe was the least he could do for her.

  Realizing that the family he had once hoped would be his was now completely out of his reach, Graham came to a decision that he knew was long overdue.

  Chapter Thirty-Three - We Are the Same

  Two weeks passed without a word from him. Rosabel did her best to keep Georgiana busy, but her own thoughts wouldn’t let her rest. Again she spent nights tossing and turning, awake to the point of exhaustion. When she did fall asleep, her dreams teetered between pleasant and terrifying. In one moment her husband would cradle her in his arms, smiling at her with love shining in his eyes; then in the next he lunged at her, violently grabbing at her dress and pushing her down. Rosabel woke from these dreams bathed in sweat, frantically glancing about the room, assuring herself that she was alone.

  Until the day that he did return.

  Once again he snuck past them into his study, and only hours later did they learn of his arrival from Hanson. While Georgiana was happy to hear her father had returned, Rosabel could see the restraint she had put on her heart. The little girl was becoming guarded in matters of the heart, trying to protect herself from further pain. Unlike before, Georgiana did not insist on seeking him out, and so they remained in their rooms while he did not venture from his study. Finally, they were under the same roof again, and yet, it did not matter. The distance had grown to unsurmountable proportions.

  After taking their breakfast alone the next morning, Rosabel and Georgiana walked out into the hall only to stop in their tracks. Right there by the front doors stood trunks and bags filled with their possessions.

  “He is sending us back,” Georgiana whispered, her little hand wrapping itself more tightly around Rosabel’s. “I had hoped he wouldn’t.”

  Rosabel nodded. “Me too.”

  For a long moment they stood and watched as footmen brought more bags, setting up two piles. Frowning, Rosabel glanced outside. Two carriages stood by the front stoop. When all their belongings had been brought to the front hall, the footmen began piling them onto the carriages, careful to store Georgiana’s items on the roof of the first carriage while Rosabel’s found their way onto the second.

  Fear gripped Rosabel’s heart.

  When Bridget approached, wearing a dress for travel, Rosabel left Georgiana with her and headed to her husband’s study.

  As she approached the door, her unease grew. What would it be like to see him again after what had happened? Stopping in front of the door, she took a deep breath and knocked before her resolve could falter. From inside, his voice called to enter.

  Rosabel swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep her hands from shaking, and crossed the threshold.

  Nothing had changed in this room. It looked as it always had. Even her husband bore no mark that would speak of their unfortunate encounter. Although she knew that her line of thinking was bar any reason, her heart had expected an outward sign for what had changed on the inside. Had it not affected him? Was she the only one to suffer nightmares? Uncontrollable trembling?

  Clearly not expecting her, his features froze when he looked up and found her standing behind the chair on the other side of his desk. He swallowed, then rose from his chair. “My lady,” he spoke, but his voice held no kindness or even civility. Even a stranger he would have addressed in a more civilized manner.

  Forcing her voice
out in an even, unaffected tone, Rosabel faced him. “My lord, may I inquire as to the situation presented in the front hall? Why are there two carriages? Your daughter and I assumed you’d be sending us back to Westmore. We do not have that much luggage that would have us require two carriages.” Unable to stop speaking, Rosabel prattled on. If she didn’t stop, he couldn’t answer, and if he couldn’t answer, he couldn’t confirm the fear that had begun to grow in her heart the moment her eyes had fallen on the two carriages outside the door.

  With an expression devoid of any emotion, he looked at her. Clearing his throat, he said, “You observed correctly, my lady. It is not because of the luggage that I ordered two carriages.” He paused, and Rosabel could have slapped him for drawing this out. Was he doing it on purpose to torture her? “One carriage is to take you back to Westmore, where you will remain from here on out. Do not fear. You will be amply provided for.”

  Rosabel swallowed. “And the other carriage? What about Georgiana?”

  For a moment his eyes dropped to a sheet of paper in front of him, and Rosabel thought for a second that he was ashamed of what he was about to say. “I myself will escort Georgiana to another place of residence. From today on out, you will not have to worry about her anymore.”

  Rosabel’s knees buckled, and she gripped the backrest of the chair in front of her. All blood drained from her face as bright spots started to dance in her vision.

  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “My lord, what are you saying? Georgiana is my daughter. You cannot take her away from me.”

  Not meeting her pleading gaze, he shook his head. “She is not, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will be able to move on.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “I have said all that I wished. If you please, now get ready to depart. We’ll leave as soon as everything is packed.”

  Leaving shock behind, Rosabel ignited the flame of anger that had so often burned in the months since her wedding. It had served her well, helped her keep her wits about her and not break down in the face of looming danger. “How can you say that? Never will I accept this.” Stepping around the chair, she closed the distance between them and stepped up to the desk, only an arm’s length separating them. “She is my daughter. You made me her mother when you married me. Those were your words. You married me for the sole reason of giving Georgiana a new mother. Did you forget that?”