by Bree Wolf
“We should return to our guests,” Isabella announced, ushering her husband toward the door.
“Wait,” Robert said, pulling off his tailcoat. “We need to switch back.” After he had once more donned his black tailcoat and Charles had shrugged into the navy one, Isabella once more tried to pull him toward the door. However, Robert stopped, a smirk on his face, “Do you think we should leave them alone…and unchaperoned? After all, isn’t that precisely what got us into trouble to begin with?”
“You do have a devilish streak,” Isabella said, her eyes smiling as she finally managed to usher Robert out the door.
“Admit it,” he mumbled. “That’s why you love me.”
The door closed behind them.
“I apologise for the deception,” Charles said, his hands gesturing widely, including everything that had happened since before the day he had met Rose at the museum. “There was no other way for them to be together,” he explained, feeling cautiously exhilarated by the soft smile on Rose’s face as she listened patiently. “Only after Isabella and I were married did she and my brother meet. Moments after actually.” Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed. “What should we have done? There was no other way.”
Licking her lips, Rose nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “You gave up your life for him,” she whispered before her gaze met his once again, and a soft smile came to her face. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister.”
“Robert and I are very different,” Charles said, taking a step closer. “We always have been, but we’ve also always been there for each other no matter what the consequences. He would have done the same for me.” Her eyes rested on his, and for a second, Charles thought to see a hint of doubt in them. “He can be reckless, but he would never intentionally hurt someone. I am sorry about what happened with your cousin, but I believe my brother when he says that it was a misunderstanding.”
For a moment, Rose’s head sank, and Charles held his breath. Then she took a deep breath and met his gaze once more. “I believe him, too,” she whispered, a slight tremble in her lips. “Diana, too, can be rash in her decisions.”
A deep smile came to Charles’ face at her words, and all of a sudden, he felt a million times lighter. “Do you believe me then?”
“Believe you?”
Drawing a deep breath, he took another step closer and reached for her hands.
Though hesitant at first, Rose soon relaxed, her small hands resting safely in his own.
Gazing into her eyes, Charles smiled. “That I love you,” he clarified, delighted with the slight blush that came to her cheeks.
“I do, yes,” she whispered, averting her eyes for only a moment. “I think I’ve known ever since−”
“−the day at the museum,” Charles finished for her, and she smiled at him in answer. “It broke my heart when you walked away from me after learning my name.”
“I’m sorry, but…”
“I know. There is nothing to apologise for.” Squeezing her hands, Charles took a deep breath, his eyes held captive by the humming glow in hers. “I know I still need to speak to your father,” he said, and Rose swallowed, her eyes widening, “but I need to hear your answer now or I am certain I will lose my mind.”
Licking her lips, Rose smiled up at him.
“Rose Lawson,” Charles said, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, “will you agree to marry me?”
Stepping closer, she raised herself on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you.” A delighted smile came to her face before she nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.”
In that moment, all doubt and misery fell from him, and Charles drew the woman he loved into his arms and swung her around in a circle, exhilarated by the sudden happiness that washed over him.
Laughing, they lay in each other’s arms as the tension of the last few weeks left their bodies and their hearts grew light with hope and promise.
“I shall speak to your father immediately,” Charles declared, setting her back on her feet.
Rose smiled. “I do not believe it will come as a surprise to him.” Raising his eyebrows, Charles looked at her. “If he wants to be, he can be very perceptive, and I think that he realised how I felt before I was even able to admit it to myself.”
“Then you think he will not deny his blessing?”
Rose shook her head. “He would never stand in the way of my happiness,” she whispered, tilting up her head. “And I need you to be happy.”
Smiling, Charles lowered his head to hers, delighted at the thought to have Rose by his side for the rest of his days.
Never would he have imagined that such happiness was possible.
However, it was, and he would cherish it for the rest of his life.
***
When the festivities had finally come to an end and all the guests had left, they all gathered in the rather snug front parlour, a glass of champagne in their hands to toast Charles' and Rose's upcoming wedding.
An arm around Rose's slender waist, Charles felt like the happiest man alive. How natural it felt to touch her! To hold her hand! Kiss her lips and draw her into his arms!
Never would he have believed that everything would turn out the way it had. Despite his hopes for a future with Rose, deep down Charles had believed that either he or his brother would have to sacrifice for the other to be happy.
However, he had never been so relieved to be proven wrong.
"To Rose and Robert," Robert toasted and raised his glass, his eyes twinkling as they moved from his wife to his brother before coming to rest on Mr. Lawson. "I wish you all the happiness in the world. May your love always be true and strong!"
"Hear! Hear!" the others echoed, their faces lit with joy, and once more, Charles drew Rose into his arms.
"This proves to be quite an astounding night," Mr. Lawson marvelled, a smirk on his face as he looked back and forth between the two brothers.
Seeing Rose's face sober, Charles swallowed, wondering what she had seen on her father's face that had eluded him.
"Two brothers reunited," Mr. Lawson continued, "and a wedding announced. To be frank, after our last encounter, I doubted that Rose would ever agree to a proposal. She seemed quite adamant in her opinion of you."
Clearing his throat, Robert chuckled. "I suppose love does conquer all."
Mr. Lawson nodded, a gleam in his eyes that sent a chill down Charles' back. "So it would seem." He turned to Robert. "Given the intimate connection between our two families, I am quite pleased to think that we shall have ample opportunity to discuss my translation of the Rosetta Stone." Robert paled. "Few people truly enjoy such discussions−with the exception of my dear Rose, of course−which makes me cherish this opportunity all the more." Clasping his hands in delight, he sighed. "We shall spend endless days discussing the meaning and importance of Egyptian hieroglyphs for our modern languages."
Robert swallowed as his eyes darted from Mr. Lawson to his wife and then to Charles as though seeking help.
"I know that dear Robert is not truly interested in these matters," Mr. Lawson continued as he nodded at Charles. "Although he has tried to participate in these discussions, I suppose it was only for Rose's sake." Mr. Lawson shook his head. "No, I shall not bother him with this any longer now that I have an equal-minded friend to share this with."
Laughing, Rose placed her hand on her father's arm. "Do not torture him, Father." Her eyes darted to Robert before returning to her father's. "Say plainly what is on your mind."
Meeting his fiancée's gaze, Charles swallowed as his suspicions were confirmed.
Chuckling, Mr. Lawson squeezed her hands. "I apologise," he said, looking at Robert. "You do look truly ill, my friend. Is the thought of archaeological discussions so troubling to you?"
Robert swallowed. "No, certainly not. I have always enjoyed…that."
"Father!" Rose called. "Please."
Sighing, Charles closed hi
s eyes before turning to Mr. Lawson. "How long have you known?"
A mischievous smile came to the old man's face. "Oh, a while," he admitted with a chuckle.
"Known what?" Robert asked.
"That I am you, and you are me," Charles stated plainly, and his brother's eyes grew wide for the second time that night.
"Why didn't you say anything, Father?" Rose asked, shaking her head at him.
Mr. Lawson shrugged. "Quite frankly, I was having too much fun."
Everybody laughed, except for Robert, who still looked a little green around the eyes.
"Do not worry," Mr. Lawson said to him, placing a comforting hand on Robert's shoulder. "I shall not trouble you with archaeological discussions. After all, for that I have my daughter and future son-in-law."
Exhaling with relief, Robert chuckled. "To be honest, that is the best news I've received all day."
Charles laughed. "The best news, dear brother?"
Robert shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "I love you, Charles, but I won't survive another one of these so called discussions. How you do it is beyond me!"
Mr. Lawson sighed. "Oh, dear boy, it's a matter of the heart! You cannot possibly understand until yours, too, has been stolen."
A smile on his face, Robert nodded as he turned to look at Isabella, his eyes shining with love. "That, I understand."
"As do I," Charles whispered, pulling Rose into his arms yet again, enjoying the feel of her snuggling against him as she gazed up into his eyes. "As do I."
Epilogue
Sitting beside her husband in the small chapel at Bridgemoore, Diana felt tears sting the corners of her eyes as the priest pronounced the happy couple man and wife.
Almost delirious, Rose turned to her new husband, tears of joy running down her cheeks as he embraced her, quite unwilling to let her go as a stream of well-wishers approached them. A big smile on his face, Lord Norwood accepted the congratulations of family and friends, all the while keeping his hand closed over his wife’s as it rested in the crook of his arm.
They looked happy, Diana thought, and a tear rolled down her cheek. And although her heart ached in her chest, she knew that Rose deserved to be happy. After all, her cousin had always stood by her, doing her best to see her happy.
Only Diana wasn’t happy. She knew she never would be. After all, the only man she had ever loved was now married to her cousin. And what hurt even more was that he had never loved her.
Notorious Norwood had finally chosen a wife, and all of London marvelled at what a special woman she was, considering that neither fortune nor connection could have promoted her to him.
Dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes, Diana glanced at her husband.
Objectively, she had had a lot more to offer than her cousin, and yet, her husband had never looked at her twice.
Twenty years her senior, he had agreed to marry her after the rumours had started only because he wished to align himself with titled families. Despite his fortune, his lack in amiable qualities as well as appeal had often hindered his pursuit of a young lady from a titled household.
Only Diana didn’t have a choice. Admittedly, her own wrong choice had led her down that path; however, her heart still ached for the love that shone so evidently in her cousin’s eyes.
What would it feel like to be loved that way? She wondered.
Sighing, Diana closed her eyes, knowing that she would never know.
She had wasted her heart on a man, who had never cared for her, and now it was too late.
Her fate was sealed.
Return to Table of Contents
The Forgotten Wife
(#3 A Forbidden Love Novella Series)
About the Book
They married for love.
Now, he does not remember her.
WILLIAM EVERETT, Earl of Harrington, cannot remember the past few years of his life.
One moment of carelessness destroyed everything and tied him to a woman he does not recognise. Her sad eyes follow him wherever he goes, always hopeful, and every day, he does not remember her, the pain resting in those gentle eyes grows and grows.
Guilt claims William’s heart. He knows he ought to love her. But how can he love someone he doesn’t even remember?
CATHERINE EVERETT, Countess of Harrington, is devastated.
After a riding accident, her husband looks at her and sees a stranger. Gone are the years they spent together. Gone is the love that always shone in his eyes. In its place, she sees doubt and uncertainty.
Unwilling to share her life with a husband who once loved her but now only feels the ties of obligation, Catherine risks it all and agrees to her sister’s daring plan.
Will Catherine find a way to reclaim her husband’s heart? Or is a love once lost gone forever?
Prologue
England, November 1818 (or a variation thereof)
“How did you sleep, my dear?” William Everett, Earl of Harrington, asked his wife across the breakfast table. His eyes sparkled with mischief as they held hers, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a suppressed smile before he glanced at his mother seated to his other side.
Very much aware of her mother-in-law’s presence, Catherine swallowed, and her cheeks warmed as images of the previous night drifted into her mind. “Quite well,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “And you?”
Her husband took a sip from his tea, his face non-chalant as though they were discussing foreign affairs. However, when he looked up and their eyes met once more, Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at the vivid memories she saw there. “Extraordinarily well,” he said in a voice that betrayed nothing of the emotions so evident on his face.
Smiling, Catherine shook her head at him, praying that her mother-in-law was as oblivious to their conversation as she looked.
“I, too, slept well,” the dowager countess said, and Catherine flinched, “if anyone cares to know.” Sipping her tea, the older woman glanced from her son to her daughter-in-law and back to her son, her eyes unreadable.
Catherine swallowed.
“That is wonderful, Mother,” William said, a gentle smile on his face, before he returned his attention to the cup in his hands.
Following his example, Catherine dropped her gaze, afraid her eyes might betray what her thoughts could not abandon.
Seconds ticked by as they ate in silence, and with each, it became more and more unbearable for Catherine not to look up into her husband’s face. After a small eternity, she glanced in his direction from under her eyelashes and caught him winking at her.
Unable to stop herself, Catherine chuckled.
“Is something amusing, dear?” the dowager countess asked.
“Nothing. Just a frog in my throat.” Forcing her gaze from the mischief in her husband’s eyes, Catherine cleared her throat and tried her best to focus her thoughts on the view before her.
More snow had fallen during the night covering Harrington Park with a thick blanket. The sun shone, and the sky sparkled in a clear blue, white clouds drifting lazily across the estate.
“I’ve rarely seen such beauty,” Catherine marvelled at the sight before her.
“Neither have I.”
As her gaze left the winter landscape outside the window, Catherine found her husband smiling at her once more, his eyes aglow as he gazed at her lovingly. Although more than a year had passed since their whirlwind romance, every day reminded her of the powerful emotions that had seized them both so abruptly.
It had been Catherine’s third season, and yet, not once had she been tempted to give her heart to one of the many gentlemen she had met during that time. Unlike her older sister, Catherine had always dreamed of true love, and when her third season had proved as disappointing as the previous two, she had feared love would never find her.
But it had.
It had been the last ball of the season, and Catherine’s mood had been consequently bad when out of nowhere their eyes had met across the room. Like two magnets, t
hey had drifted toward each other, following the invisible bond that had so unexpectedly formed between them.
It had felt like destiny as William and his brother had only just returned from their grand tour on the continent. Just in time for the last ball of the season.
Lost in each other, they had danced and talked, strolled through the gardens and gazed at the stars, and by the end of the night, William had asked for her hand.
Her parents had been quite taken aback. However, after fearing that Catherine, like her sister, would come to look upon marriage as a hindrance in life, they quickly gave their consent.
“If you’ll excuse me, I feel another chill coming on,” the dowager countess said, her eyes looking at the cold winter day with a hint of disgust.
“Of course, Mother.”
Rising from her chair, the dowager countess strode from the room, a slight tremble in her hands.
“Do you think we should call for Dr. Martin?” Catherine asked.
William chuckled. “I do not believe that she’s ill. She merely hates the cold. It’s always been like this.” He reached out a hand and gently placed it upon hers. “Do not worry. She’ll be fine.”
Catherine nodded. “So? Is your brother coming today?”
“He should be here soon. We’ll go for a ride down by the lake.” A deep smile came to her husband’s face. “It’s been a long time.”
Squeezing his hand, Catherine smiled. “I know what you mean. Only being one year apart, my sister and I have always been inseparable.” She sighed. “A lot has changed during the last year.”
Grinning, William met her eyes. “Do you regret marrying me?”
Catherine laughed. “Not for a moment,” she assured him. “Not for a moment.”
A deep smile came to his face, and rising from his chair, he pulled her into his arms. “Neither do I,” he whispered before his lips gently brushed over hers.
Leaning into him, Catherine enjoyed the gentle shivers that danced down her back. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.