by Bree Wolf
“I agree.”
“Then take her home, and be the best father she could have.”
For a moment Graham closed his eyes, feeling his feet tremble with the need to move. More than anything he wanted to open the door and leave. Return home. With his family. But he couldn’t.
He opened his eyes and faced reality. “Since Leonora’s death, I’ve hardly ever been home. Something changed that day. I changed. I can’t…I am not the man I used to be. I can’t be a father to her. I’ve tried, but something…” He trailed off, not sure he himself knew what stood in the way.
“What about your wife? She loves her.”
Graham could feel frown lines descend upon his face.
“Don’t look surprised!” his friend chided. “A blind man could see the love between them. If she can be a mother to another woman’s child, how come you can’t be her father?”
Again Graham frowned. “She asked me the same question.”
“I assume she is furious with you,” the prince said, a slight chuckle in his voice. “Are you not afraid she will never forgive you?”
Graham shrugged. “That is of no importance.”
“It would make your life unbearable.”
“That will not be the case. I’ve made arrangements for her to return to Westmore.”
The prince frowned. “While you remain in London?”
“No, I’ve rented a place farther south.”
“I see,” his friend said, nodding his head. “I never knew you were such a coward.”
Graham’s head snapped up. “Sir?”
“I can see that your love for Leonora brought you nothing but pain,” the prince said. “But she,” again he pointed at the doors, “is not Leonora. As furious as she is with you for wanting to give away her child, she loves you.”
Graham’s eyes grew round as the words sank to his core.
“You did not know that?” his friend asked, again a chuckle rang in his voice as he once more placed a comforting hand on Graham’s shoulder. “You truly are a blind man, my friend.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight - You Won, My Lady
“Isn’t he precious?” Georgiana asked, stroking the graceful neck of a white stallion. The second they had entered the stables; her heart had settled on the horse in the snow-like coat. Rubbing him behind the ears, she smiled as he gently took an apple from the palm of her hand.
As magnificent as the stallion was, Rosabel had only eyes for her daughter. Wringing her hands to keep from screaming in frustration, she stood a few feet away, watching as the late afternoon sun sparkled in Georgiana’s golden hair. Her rosy cheeks off-set her deep blue eyes as a smile once more curled up her lips. How many more days would she get to gaze at her daughter like this before she would be snatched away?
Tears threatened to spill, and Rosabel quickly brushed at her eyes, trying to fend them off.
What were they talking about? Rosabel couldn’t help but wonder. Would the prince accept his daughter back? Or would he refuse her husband’s proposal? Oh, how she wished she could eavesdrop on their conversation!
By the time the sun had dropped behind the horizon, painting the sky a deep shade of red and purple, Rosabel’s head started to throb. A dull pain thumped behind her temples, and she desperately wished she could close her eyes to shut it out.
Footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path, and Rosabel spun around to see her husband enter the stables. His head hung low between his shoulders, and he all but dragged his feet as he made his way toward them. Eyes overshadowed, he gazed at her as though seeing something he had never noticed before. Returning his curious glance with a frown of her own, she watched a slight tinge of red spot his cheeks before he turned away.
Kissing her new friend goodbye, Georgiana flung herself into her father’s arms, planting a kiss on his cheek as well. “Thank you for taking us here, father. I’ve had the most wonderful time.” As she turned her head and glanced back at the white stallion, Rosabel saw her husband’s eyes close as he embraced his child once more.
Instantly, hope grew in Rosabel’s heart. Had he changed his mind? Had the prince refused him? Entering the stables, his whole demeanour had been that of a defeated man while the way he had embraced his daughter had spoken of painful longing. Could it be?
“Can we come back here tomorrow?” Georgiana asked, introducing her father to the young stallion, whose nose once again inspected her hands for savoury treats. “We have become good friends.”
To Rosabel’s surprise, her husband nodded. “Of course, we can. I have agreed to stay a few days.”
Overjoyed, Georgiana clapped her hands. “How wonderful!”
Keeping pace with her husband, Rosabel followed him as he led her through the intricate system of hallways to their guest rooms. After bidding Georgiana good night, they walked a few steps farther down the corridor before he stopped and opened the door to the adjoining room. Rosabel stepped inside and was surprised when he followed her, closing the door behind them.
Did he wish to tell her what had happened? Rosabel wondered, frowning. He had never volunteered information, and she had expected it to be incredibly difficult to obtain any tangible details with regard to his conversation with the prince.
Turning to face her husband, Rosabel folded her hands over her waist, forcing her muscles to appear calm and relaxed. Inside, she heard herself scream at him, but only a mildly interested smile appeared on her face. Proud of herself to have mastered her facial expression to such a degree, Rosabel watched him.
No air of calm hung about him. His eyes flitted from the door to her and then glanced over her shoulder.
Not turning around, Rosabel maintained her steady expression.
“His Royal Majesty asked for us to stay a few days,” he said without preamble, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “He desires a little time with his daughter.”
Rosabel exhaled slowly, feeling her heart leap into her throat. “Then he did not agree to your proposal?”
A smile flitted across his face as he stepped toward her. “You won, my lady.” His eyes remained focused on hers, waiting for her reaction.
“We both did,” she whispered as all the tension of the last few days dropped to the floor. All of a sudden she felt as light as a feather, and yet, so tired that she could barely keep her eyelids open.
As exhaustion washed over her, her legs started to tremble. Unable to maintain her own balance any longer, Rosabel began to sway as the world became unhinged before her eyes. Grasping for anything to keep from falling, her hand landed on something solid, something that moved higher up her arm and kept her steady. As her gaze focused, she found her husband’s eyes staring at her, worry creasing his forehead. “You need rest,” he whispered, wrapping his other arm around her middle, escorting her to the massive four-poster bed in the centre of the room.
Day had long since given way to night, and a starless black wrapped the house in darkness. As flames danced in the stone fireplace, sending their comforting warmth into the room, Rosabel sank into the soft mattress, barely aware that her husband removed her boots. A warm cloak descended upon her, and her hands reached out to draw the blanket closer, draping it around her shoulders.
As sleep entered her mind, removing all worry and care from her soul, Rosabel felt the mattress shift as another weight settled into it.
***
The next few days Rosabel spent in a constant state of wonder. With the threat of losing her daughter not hanging over her head any longer, she enjoyed the time they had together. Georgiana was delighted to have both her parents with her as well as a true prince, who doted on her like the dashing doubles she had met in her fairy tales.
Always observant, Rosabel saw the longing in the prince’s eyes whenever he spoke to Georgiana or took her to the stables to see the white stallion. She also saw her husband’s thoughtful eyes as he observed them as much as she did. Occasionally, he seemed to envy his friend’s ease with which he delighted Georgiana, while at other times, Ros
abel thought to detect a hint of guilt. Over what, she wasn’t sure.
When they bid Georgiana good night on their second day and returned to the adjoining room, Rosabel was astounded when her husband once again entered, closing the door behind them.
As he saw her questioning look, a shy smile crossed his features, and Rosabel felt herself blush although she did not know why. “I suppose you do not remember this,” he said, raising his eye brows, indicating the bed behind her, “but we are to share this room.” Slowly, his eyes returned to her face, once again waiting for her reaction.
When she had woken up that morning, the other side of the bed had looked relatively untouched, and he had already been downstairs, taking a stroll through the gardens with Georgiana and the prince. However, a distant corner of her mind remembered the presence she had felt when sleep had claimed her the night before.
“I see,” she whispered, not knowing how to respond. Although her pulse sped up and her hands began to tremble, part of her noticed the slight tingle of excitement that ran through her body at the thought of sharing a bed with her husband.
Interpreting her silence differently, her husband pointed to the small settee situated by the fireplace on the west-facing wall. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep there.” His eyes remained on hers, waiting.
In a strange way, Rosabel thought he was asking much more than just whether or not she felt uncomfortable having him sleep beside her. A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes mingled with a touch of fear. Confused, Rosabel narrowed her eyes unable to make sense of the emotions that coursed through him.
When he turned around, she placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “I do not mind sharing the bed.”
As he looked back at her, a flame burned within her, touching her cheeks. He stepped closer and nodded. “All right.” His gaze slid over her, here and there stopping to linger. Rosabel drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. As though in answer, he cleared his throat, eyes snapping back up to her face. “I will step out onto the balcony while you change.”
Once again he turned to go; once again Rosabel stopped him. “Just keep your back turned,” she whispered unable to meet his eyes.
He nodded, facing the dancing flames.
After taking off her boots, Rosabel realized that she was stuck. Her mind had been too occupied to notice earlier, but without help she would never be able to undo the laces in the back of her dress. “Eh,” she stammered.
“Something wrong?” he asked over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.
Pushing embarrassment aside, Rosabel found her voice. “I need help with the laces.”
For a moment he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Then his shoulders tensed, and he inhaled deeply. “Can I look?”
Rosabel nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she whispered, eyes shifting to the floor as he turned to face her.
“What do you need me to do?” he whispered.
Turning her back to him, a shiver ran over her skin. At first, relief filled her at not having to face his scrutinizing eyes, but after a moment, she realized that, although she could not see them, she felt their touch as they ran over her body. Again a shiver went through her, and she took a deep breath. “Undo the laces.” Until his fingers brushed her back through the fabric, Rosabel wasn’t sure if he had heard her, as feeble as her voice sounded to her own ears.
Starting at the very top, his hands moved down her back, here and there struggling to loosen her bodice. His warm breath brushed over the soft skin on her neck, raising goose bumps in its wake. He stood so close that the warmth radiating from his body touched her chilled skin like a balmy breeze on a summer’s day. More than anything she wanted to lean into him and feel his arms wrap around her.
Slowly, Rosabel felt the fabric’s tight hug slip away as the cool night air touched her skin, which only moments later was set aflame when his fingers lightly brushed over it like the touch of a feather.
“All right,” he whispered, and Rosabel opened her eyes, completely unaware that she had closed them.
“Thank you,” she mumbled without turning around. The burning hot in her cheeks spoke of the red that had settled there, and she couldn’t bring herself to face him.
For a moment silence hung in the air. Then she heard him step back and walk over to the other side of the room. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him standing by the set of armchairs facing the stone fireplace. With one hand leaning on the backrest, he stood completely still, staring into the flames.
Hesitating at first, Rosabel quickly brushed away the thought that he might turn back too early and catch her with hardly anything covering her body. But he would not. She was sure of it. He wouldn’t move until she told him to.
Stepping out of her dress, she carefully laid it over the chair’s backrest standing in front of the vanity in the corner of the room. After removing her shoes and stockings, she took off her stay, once more drawing in a deep breath. Keeping her chemise on, she slipped into her nightgown and slid into bed, drawing the covers almost to her chin.
“It’s all right,” she said, forcing her voice loud enough for him to hear. “You can turn around.”
At first she thought he hadn’t heard her. His shoulders remained tense, and his hand looked like it was gripping the back of the chair for support. Then a small tremble went through his frame, and slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to face her.
When their eyes met, Rosabel instantly looked down at the delicate quilt keeping the cold at bay. Step by step she heard him approach the other side of the bed. Without saying a word, he removed his boots and his outer coat. From under her eyelashes, Rosabel watched as he slid into bed beside her, keeping his breeches and shirt on.
Leaning over to the bed stand where the last candle burned, a tiny light in the dark of night, he extinguished it and settled back into bed. Only the glowing embers from the fireplace cast a last looming light across the room, dancing shadows in a world of darkness. “Good night,” he whispered.
Lying on her back, the dark wrapping her in a safe cocoon, Rosabel’s unease about the situation slipped away with each breath she took and each breath she heard him take not an arm’s length away from her. “Will you still send me back to Westmore?” she asked, relieved that the shadows hid his face.
Hearing his head shift on the pillow, she waited, holding her breath.
“Do you want to return?” he asked instead of answering her question.
“I like Westmore. It’s beautiful, and I do miss Helen. I think I could feel at home there.”
After a moment of silence, he said, “But?”
“But not without Georgiana.” Once again holding her breath, Rosabel waited. Even if the prince had refused to take his child back, her husband could still refuse her access to Georgiana and send them to different estates. Ultimately, she had no say in the matter.
On the other side of the bed, Rosabel heard the ruffling of covers as he moved, turning on his side as he looked at her, the glow of embers dancing in his eyes.
Keeping her own gaze fixed on the ceiling, she felt his warm breath travel the small distance between them and caress her chilled cheek. A tremble ran through her as she drew in another breath, anticipation growing.
“Have no fear,” his voice sounded in the dark. “I will not attempt to separate the two of you again.” Rosabel heard herself exhale audibly. “I never should have. You are a good mother to her, and she deserves that.”
Feeling her heart jump in her chest, Rosabel’s lips broke into a smile as her eyes closed, savouring the moment. “Thank you,” she breathed.
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning back around.
Again silence hung between them, and although Rosabel’s heart hammered in her chest, she could not walk away. Gathering her courage, she spoke into the dark. “What about you, my lord?”
“What about me?”
She swallowed, forcing the words past her li
ps. “Will you return to Westmore with us?”
Again silence rang in the room. Then he once more turned around to look at her. “Do you want me to?” he whispered, the same hint of hope mingled with fear in his voice that Rosabel had seen in his eyes before. What did he want her to say? Did he want to come, but at the same time wanted her to want him there too? Or did he want her to give him leave to stay away?
Rosabel’s head swam as she contemplated the many ways this conversation could go. While afraid to offer herself to him and be rejected, Rosabel knew that only the truth would set her free. If she did not at least try, she would be left wondering. The past months had been torment enough, she needed to make her peace with the future. She needed to see things settled. One way or another.
Bracing herself for what was to come, Rosabel spoke with her heart on her tongue. “I do not want you to leave again. Neither would Georgiana. Stay with us, whether at Westmore or Camden Hall does not matter.” Holding her breath, Rosabel waited.
***
Was she serious? Did she really wish for them to live under the same roof? Graham wondered.
Then realization dawned. Of course, how could he have been so daft? The only reason she asked him to stay with them, not her, them, was because of Georgiana. After all, she was the girl’s mother and wanted what was best for her. That, he finally understood.
But could he live in the same house with her and keep his distance at the same time? Feeling her closeness even now, Graham had to keep a tight grip on his emotions lest they overwhelm him and make him do things he would regret later. Things he could not take back. Like the day, she had sought refuge under a tree in the rain. He had found her though and invaded her haven.
Again cursing himself in the dark, his hands curled into the bed covers. More than anything he wanted to reach over and touch her, feel that soft skin tremble under his fingers once more. But he knew doing so would shatter their fragile relationship for good. She would be appalled and never forgive him.