by Wolf, Bree
“It’s all right,” Nessa said, hoping to set him at ease. Although she did not remember her father either, she felt at ease in his company as well. Did a subconscious part of her remember that she had loved him once? Trusted him? That he was safe? That he was good for her? “I’ve grown fond of Nessa.”
“As have I. It truly was a marvelous idea of Grant’s.”
“What doubt did you speak of?”
Her father shrugged. “I suppose it’s the doubt that naturally comes when those around you disapprove.”
Frowning, Nessa looked at her father, surprised how well he seemed to know her. Indeed, they seemed to have been close, and it calmed her to know that there was someone else in whom she could place her trust. Someone who would stand by her. No matter what.
“You always knew you did not fulfill the requirements that would have made you a good match in the eyes of the English nobility,” her father said, his words leaving his mouth only with reluctance, clearly stating that he disagreed. “I had no dowry to bestow on you nor connections to further you in any way. Still, you were always of strong character and spoke your mind with a naturalness that took my breath away. I was proud to see that you openly voiced your disagreement where other young debutantes would have flirtatiously batted their lashes and kept quiet.” Hearty laughter spilled from his mouth. “I wish you would remember the shocked faces of those conceited peacocks, their minds too full of themselves to form a coherent answer to your challenge.”
Unable not to, Nessa laughed, wondering how her life would have turned out if she’d had a different father. “I wish I could. I truly do.”
Reaching out, her father squeezed her hand. “I’m glad to see you’re still of high spirits. You were never one to mourn your circumstances, but it’s hard to remain optimistic when fate deals one such a harsh blow.”
Nessa nodded. “It’s not been easy, but what else is there to do?” She shrugged, proud that her father saw her in such a favorable light. “I imagine no one showed any interest in me after being thus rebuked.”
Sighing, her father shook his head. “Fools, all of them! But then again, it turned out as it should. Years passed, but eventually you met Grant. I think you’d noticed him before that night, but it was the first time he saw you.”
Nessa chuckled. “I take it he was not as…unwelcome as I was.”
“Indeed, he was much sought after,” her father confirmed. “He had just inherited his earldom, was in possession of a large fortune and exceedingly handsome if I am to believe all those breathless whispers that tended to follow in his wake.” The way her father chuckled in such a childlike way warmed Nessa’s heart. This was a man who knew joy and was never afraid to reach for it.
“Then why did he choose me?” she asked, finding herself vindicated in her doubt with regard to her husband’s affections. “I am older than he is, am I not?
“This is the doubt I speak of,” her father said, nodding his head in confirmation. “According to society’s standards, there was no good reason why he ought to have chosen you. But love doesn’t need a reason, neither a good one nor a bad one. It simply is. From what he said, it surprised him as much as you, but he was brave enough to act on it.”
“Is that why his mother doesn’t like me?” Nessa asked. “Because she thinks I do not deserve him.”
Her father shrugged. “I think it’s possible, even very likely.” A reassuring smile came to his face. “But Grant would not hear of her objections. He chose you, and he pursued you until you finally accepted his proposal.”
“Do you think I believed him?” she asked her father, wishing she could remember why she had agreed to become Grant’s wife. “That he truly loved me? Or did I simply agree because it was an advantageous match and I would have been a fool to refuse him?”
“Only you can say that with certainty,” her father said, his pale eyes searching hers. “I can see that doubt lives within you again. All I can tell you is that I’ve never seen two people more in love. He’s never forgotten you. The only time he’s smiled in the past three years was when he was with Milly.”
“Milly,” Nessa whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes. Nothing got to her as quickly as the thought of her daughter. “Tell me about her.”
Her father sighed, and sadness came to his face. “It was hard to see her mourn. She was so young when you…died. She could not understand why you would not come to her when she called for you at night.”
Tears rolled down Nessa’s cheeks, and her heart ached for the little girl. “Do you think she still remembers me?”
The way her father’s gaze dropped from hers was answer enough, and Nessa rose from the settee, stepping up to the window. Tears continued to stream down her face as she forced her gaze to the wide lawn outside.
“She may not remember how you held her,” her father whispered from behind her, “or how you tucked her in at night. But she remembers the lullaby you always sang for her. She remembers feeling safe and loved. She still loves the stars because of the story you used to read to her.” His hands settled on her shoulders, steady and calm. “Although your image faded from her mind, her heart has never forgotten you.” Gently, he urged her to turn and face him.
Nessa sniffled, trying her best to hold back the tears that still trickled down her face, but they would not listen. “I don’t even know what to say to her,” she sobbed, sinking into her father’s arms, marveling at how easy it was to turn to him. “What should I say? I know nothing about her. I’m a stranger, someone she doesn’t remember ever having met.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say,” her father whispered to her as she stood in his embrace. “She’s your daughter and you’re her mother, and that’s all that matters.” Stepping back, he looked into her eyes. “Your place is still here with us. Do not doubt this. We’ve mourned you for three years, and we would have come for you sooner had we known where to find you. Grant would not have remarried if he’d thought he could ever have you back in his life.”
Cold spread through Nessa’s body at her father’s words, freezing the tears as they rolled down her cheeks. Her eyes went wide, and her breath caught in her throat as though she had taken a blow to the stomach.
Seeing the changes in her, her father stilled, then swallowed. “You do not know.”
Nessa gritted her teeth, then took a step back, pushing her father’s hands off her shoulders. “He remarried? When? Where is she?”
Grasping for words, her father stepped toward her, but Nessa moved away, unable to accept his offer of comfort. “Please believe me that he only married her for Milly’s sake. His mother insisted, urging him to make the match and grant Milly the comfort of a mother.”
Nessa spun to face him. “She became Milly’s mother? When did he marry her?”
“Almost a year ago,” her father replied, the look on his face heartbreakingly sad. Still, Nessa could not ignore the dull ache in her heart as though someone very dear had been taken from her. “Milly never called her mother. I admit that she helped Milly overcome her sadness, but she never replaced you.”
“What is her name?” Nessa asked, her gaze drawn to the door, wondering if at any moment Grant’s wife—his wife!—might be storming through the door, demanding to know what on earth Nessa was doing in her house. “Where is she now?”
Her father swallowed. “You need to speak to your husband. Let me fetch h—”
“He’s not my husband,” Nessa snapped, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to get away, to be alone. “He’s hers!” Ignoring her father’s attempt to console her, Nessa fled the room, not knowing where to go, but feeling the need to escape.
She should never have come.
Chapter Thirteen
A Painful Truth
Reluctantly, Grant led his mother to his study. He’d rather have stayed with Nessa; although he suspected it would be good for her to spend some time with her father. Maynard had such a warm, welcoming way that would surely break through the distance that her mem
ory loss had forced between them. Grant knew from personal experience how good it felt to be accepted into a new family. He himself had been in that position seven years ago, and today he felt closer to Maynard than he ever had to his own parents. Perhaps it was simply the way his parents had grown up, handing over their children to others to care for and spending very little time with them themselves.
Whatever it was, Grant was certain that Maynard would help Nessa feel at home at Wentford Park.
If only Grant could have asked him not to mention—
“She clearly does not remember us,” his mother remarked, her tone harsh, as her hands rose to gesture to the door they’d walked in through. “Why did you bring her here? Do you truly think she can be a mother to Amelia if she cannot even remember the child?”
“She is Milly’s mother,” Grant replied in an equally harsh tone, his eyes still and fixed on his mother as he stepped toward her. To his surprise, his mother’s gaze seemed to waver for a second before she lifted her chin to meet him. “It may take time, but I know they will soon be as close as they once had been.”
His mother scoffed. “You know no such thing, Wentford. You hope. You wish. But you do not know.” Pointing at the door, she stepped toward him. “That woman out there is not your wife. She does not even remember you. You’re a fool if you believe she feels anything for you except perhaps relief to be brought from a back country abbey into a fine estate, a life of ease promised to her.”
Anger rose in Grant’s veins. “How dare you speak of her in such a way? She is your daughter-in-law. She is my wife and Milly’s mother. She belongs with us. This is her home.”
His mother drew in a slow breath, and he could see that she was annoyed with him. “It was her home,” she replied in a surprisingly calm tone. “But life has moved on. Do you even know what she has done in the past three years?”
Grant frowned. “She’s been in the abbey up north. I told you that.”
“So she said,” his mother pointed out, her eyes narrowed with suspicion as though she were speaking about a common thief, “but how do we know she’s telling the truth?”
Shaking his head at such an accusation, Grant stepped toward his mother, his gaze hard as he looked at her. “Do not speak about my wife like that. She may have forgotten her past, but she still is the same woman she’s always been. I’ve had the chance to spend time with her on our journey here, and I can tell you that she is Nessa in every way.”
“But she doesn’t remember you, and neither does she remember Milly.” Sighing, his mother took a step back, hanging her head. “Do you even see how heartbroken Amelia has been since you sent your wife,” her gaze met his pointedly, leaving no doubt which wife she was referring to, “away to that beast?”
All air flew from Grant’s lungs. “You’ve known Adrian all his life. You used to be well acquainted with his mother. How can you speak of him in such a way? You know he is a good man.”
“I know no such thing, and neither do you,” his mother snapped. “You cannot live in the past, Wentford. Time moves forward, and life changes people. You cannot know the kind of man he is any more than you can know the kind of woman your first wife has become. All that you think you know is simply wishful thinking. Look at what’s right in front of you.” Her hands balled into fists as she waved them about, trying to make herself understood. “Your daughter has suffered enough. Do you not see that? Are you truly taking away the mother who has helped her through her sadness and put a smile back on her face?”
Grant felt his heart clench in his chest. Of course, he had warred with himself about what to do. Was he selfish for bringing Nessa back? Indeed, he was. But he also believed deep inside that, ultimately, Milly would be happy to have her mother back.
His mother’s face softened as she stepped toward him. “I know what you went through when you lost her. I know how hard it was for you to move on, and I’m proud of how you’ve handled yourself. You believe you found your wife but, in truth, you found a stranger, and your hopes will only lead to disappointment.” Gently, she placed a hand on his arm, an uncharacteristically emphatic look on her face. “What if she cannot remember? What if she will never remember? Do you truly want to spend the rest of your life hoping that your wife will rediscover her love for you? Is that any way to live?” She shook her head. “I do not want to see you suffer again, my son.”
Staring at his mother, Grant felt overwhelmed by what he saw. Never in his life had his mother spoken to him in such a way. Had she truly done as she had out of concern for him? Were her feelings genuine? “I thank you for your concern, Mother, but I simply cannot give up on Nessa.” His mother’s hand fell from his arm and she looked away in disappointment. “I hear what you said, and I admit that you’re right. It is possible that she’ll never remember.” He swallowed, lifting a hand to stop her when she looked ready to argue her point again. “Listen, please. She may or may not remember, but whether or not she does has no say in how she may come to feel about me today.”
His mother’s gaze narrowed in confusion.
“I’m determined to reclaim her heart,” he said, remembering the way they’d laughed together on the carriage ride here. “I won her heart once, I will do so again.”
His mother shook her head. “You’re a romantic fool. You always have been.” She sighed as though he were a child too immature to understand how the world worked. “Life is not what you want it to be. I thought you learned that when your wife was first lost to you.” Again, she placed a hand on his arm. “I can see that you’re worried as well. You might act as though you’re confident in this matter, but you, too, feel doubt and uncertainty. You’ve asked yourself the same questions, have you not?”
Grant sighed. “Of course, I have,” he exclaimed, feeling exasperated. “Of course, I have doubt. Of course, I don’t know what the future will bring, but I’d rather have hope than nothing at all.”
“Nothing?”
“Yes, Mother,” Grant replied, feeling a new energy pulse in his veins. Stepping back, he raked his hand through his hair before his feet carried him to the window. For a moment, he looked outside at the peaceful gardens of Wentford Park. Then he turned around to face his mother. “When I lost Nessa, I felt like my heart had been torn from my chest. Living was suddenly so painful. It was an ordeal simply drawing breath, putting one foot in front of the other. You have no idea how close I came to ending it all.” Never had Grant spoken like this to anyone, and he could see the effect of it in the paleness of his mother’s face. “The only reason I am still here is Milly. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have followed Nessa to the grave.” Tears choked his voice, and he balled his hands into fists, pushing the despair and hopelessness of those lonely years aside. “She is here now. Nessa is here, alive and well.” He pointed at the door. “Right there in the other room.” Swallowing, he shook his head. “I may be a fool, I may be selfish, but I cannot ignore that. I cannot pretend she’s not here simply because she cannot remember. A fortnight ago, death stood between us. Now, it is simply her memory. It’s a small obstacle in comparison if you ask me. I have hope now where there was none before.” A small smile flickered across his face, and Grant could feel it in every fiber of his body. “It’s only been a few days, and I already feel more like myself than I have in the past three years. It may only be hope or wishful thinking but, deep down, I know that Nessa still loves me. She may not remember our time together, but I choose to believe that a part of her remembers me.” Again, he remembered the moment in the carriage when she had told him that she liked him, that he appealed to her. Perhaps her heart recognized him where her mind failed. “I’m prepared to be patient. I’m willing to wait and help her regain her footing, to familiarize herself with her home and her family.” The muscles in his jaw clenched as he stepped toward his mother. “But I will not lose her again. Do you hear me, Mother? No matter what, I will not lose her again.”
Swallowing hard, his mother nodded. “I do hear you, Wentford, and
I assure you I am not unsympathetic to your position. However, I cannot pretend to agree with you when I see nothing but a disaster waiting around the next corner. I cannot help but wonder what will happen to all of us if she does not remember. As you’ve said, your happiness is tied to hers as I’m certain is her father’s. What about Amelia? What will happen to her when she sees your disappointment? What will happen when disappointment turns into resentment? Not now, but in a few years. How will she grow up? You have to admit that she’s learned to smile again. She’s happy, and that is mostly your wife’s doing.” She gritted her teeth. “Your second wife, I mean,” she said in a harsh tone. “She brought us all back to life, and now you’ve sent her away to that beast.” His mother shook her head. “No, I do believe it would have been better for all of us if Nessa had never been found, if she had never returned to Wentford Park. She doesn’t belong here any longer. Eugenie does.”
Horror and a good deal of anger surged through Grant’s veins, and he was about to lash out at his mother—something he had never done in his life—when a sharp intake of breath drew his attention to the door left ajar. A moment later, footsteps echoed on the parquet floor as they fled in the opposite direction. Away from his study. Away from him. “Nessa,” he gasped as fear stole into his heart, sending ice-cold chills down his back.
Starting after her, Grant stopped when his mother grasped his arm. “She deserves to know the truth,” she told him, her eyes imploring him to let her go.
“Truth?” Grant demanded, jerking his arm free. “What truth? Yours?” He shook his head, once again heading for the door, determined to find Nessa and explain everything to her. But would she listen?
