by Wolf, Bree
Inhaling a deep breath, his mother’s face softened. “I admit I might feel a bit antagonistic toward her. However, that is only because of poor Eugenie.”
Grant frowned. “Eugenie?”
Again, guilt reared its ugly head, reminding Grant that he had yet to speak to Nessa of the details of Eugenie’s departure from Wentford Park. Was there any way he could tell her of Eugenie’s pregnancy without risking the future he desired with Nessa? Still, a part of Grant was slowly coming to realize that even if he could never claim his child, he at least wished to see it.
Him or her.
Was it wrong of him to desire this?
Nodding, his mother stepped toward him, grasping his hands. “She is such a delicate creature, and the thought of you sending her away breaks my heart.” She blinked her eyes rapidly, but there were no tears. “You made a promise to her, and you broke it. A strong woman like Agnes might be able to survive this, but I fear Eugenie will be crippled by it.”
Grant stared at his mother, confused by the strange sound of compassion and care in her voice. He could not say why but a part of him did not believe her concern to be genuine.
A sigh left her lips, and her hands squeezed his as though she needed him for support. “I admit I keep hoping that you change your mind and take her back. It is not too late for that. Few people know of your first wife’s return. Fewer have even seen or rather glimpsed her. We can claim it was a misunderstanding.”
Without thought, Grant jerked his hands from his mother’s grasp, his legs carrying him backwards, putting a distance between them that Grant suddenly felt in every fiber of his being. “How can you say this? I know that Eugenie suffered because of something I did, but what is done is done. And I do not regret it.” Not what had happened, only what it had done to Eugenie’s life. Still, disbelief clouded his eyes as he looked at the woman who had raised him. “She is married to Adrian now, and he will make sure that she wants for nothing.”
The hope that had been shining in his mother’s eyes only a moment ago dimmed, and she sighed as though he were an unruly child, refusing to see reason.
Grant had a hard time holding on to his composure. Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly stepped toward her, wanting her to see that he meant what he was about to say. “Nessa is my wife. Mr. Thatcher has taken care of all formalities. She is not leaving. Not now. Not ever. Do you hear me?”
His mother was seething with anger. Her hands trembled, and there was a slight quiver in her jaw as she clenched her teeth to keep from lashing out at him. Never had he seen her so close to losing control.
Grant shook his head in disbelief. All his life, he had seen his mother’s lack of emotion of empathy, especially after witnessing the warmth between Nessa and her father. Still, the coldness that rested in her eyes now stole the breath from his lungs. “The surprise I mentioned before is to be a small ball in order to reintroduce Nessa to our neighbors and ensure that she feels a part of our community. I asked you here to request your help with the preparations. It is to be in a fortnight. The invitations have already been sent.”
With each word he spoke, his mother’s gaze grew darker, and he could see without difficulty that she was opposed to the idea in general which, of course, was not surprising in the least. Still, Grant could not help but feel disheartened to know that his mother was not on his side, that she could not put aside her personal feelings to ensure his happiness. Did he mean so little to her?
“That is not enough time,” she forced out through clenched teeth. “You need to postpone it.”
“I will do no such thing,” Grant replied with equal determination. “It is only meant to be a small ball, not the height of the London season. All I care is that Nessa is made to feel welcome.” His gaze focused on his mother’s. “I want her to know how happy we are that she has returned to us, that we want her here, that we love her, that life is not the same without her.” Grant could see that his mother was only too willing to accept his challenge and lash out at him. Still, she held back, and he wondered what else she refrained from saying out loud. How well did he truly know his own mother?
“Perhaps I ought to visit Eugenie,” his mother remarked, her eyes darting to his only momentarily as she began to pick nonexistent lint off her sleeve. “Someone ought to ensure that she is well, that she has not been harmed.”
Rolling his eyes, Grant growled, “She is not your concern, Mother.” Indeed, she was his. Ought he to visit her? See for himself that she was all right? She and the child? However, then his thoughts strayed to his old friend, and a reassuring calm spread over Grant. Adrian would not allow any harm to befall her. He was a man of his word, and Grant knew that he was not wrong to trust him. Perhaps all they needed was a little time to themselves, without his interference. Perhaps all would end well after all.
“Neither is she yours, it would seem,” his mother countered, her gaze fixed on his as she looked at him with all the disdain she could muster.
Despite his conviction, Grant could not deny that fresh guilt surged to the surface at the reminder of how he had failed Eugenie. “I did all I could,” he assured his mother as well as himself. “Adrian is an honorable man. He—”
His mother scoffed, shaking her head at him. “Do you truly believe that? Why do you think they call him the Beast of Ravengrove? Don’t be a fool, Wentford. He’s a monster.”
“I cannot believe how you can speak so of a man you’ve known since he was a boy,” Grant said as shock froze his limbs and a coldness spread through him that he had never known before. “What made you so bitter? Has something happened I’m not aware of? Why do you think so ill of all those around you?” He lifted a hand to stop her when she was about to reply, her gaze as hard and unfeeling as before. “No, Mother, you’re wrong. Nessa is a wonderful wife and mother, and she makes us all very happy. And Adrian has suffered many tragedies, and yet, he is still the kind of man who would never refuse someone in need. I have not the slightest doubt in my mind that he will do whatever necessary to ensure the well-being of Eugenie and the child.”
The moment the last word left his lips, Grant knew it was a mistake. But it was too late. His mother’s eyes widened in shock and, for a long moment, she simply stared at him. “Ch-Child?” she stammered then, her cheeks growing pale. “Are you saying Eugenie is with child?”
From the very beginning, Grant had had every intention of sharing that information with Nessa, believing it important to be completely honest with her. Then the days had passed, one after another, and no matter how hard he’d willed himself to speak them, the words had lodged in his throat for fear of what they might do to the tentative bond that had formed between them. What would Nessa think if she learned that he would have another child? Especially after he had shared the news of their son’s death.
Nessa had been heartbroken, and she still was, unable to work through such a loss. A loss she could not remember. A little life of which nothing tangible remained to hold on to. Not even a memory.
Not for her.
Always watchful, Grant knew that she visited Oliver’s grave, and he had seen her red-rimmed eyes when she returned from the small cemetery. He could only hope that it was a way for her to feel closer to their son and keep him in her heart without succumbing to the overwhelming grief that thoughts of him brought forth.
But it was hard.
Grant had seen her devastation, and it had broken his heart…but it had also made him fearful. Increasingly so. What would it do to her if she found out that Eugenie was carrying his child? For weeks, he had pushed that thought from his mind, ignoring it as best as he could. He knew it was cowardly and dishonest, and yet, his need for Nessa had been stronger than his desire to be truthful.
Lying awake, he had whispered a silent goodbye to the child he had fathered, but would not be able to claim as his own. He’d willed himself to be at peace with the turn his life had taken as he knew it was for the best. Milly needed her mother back, and Maynard had been a different m
an since Nessa’s return. Eugenie would be well in Adrian’s care, and perhaps she and the child would be able to soothe the pain that lived in his friend’s heart.
It was all for the best, Grant told himself. But he hadn’t told Nessa.
And perhaps, deep down, he no longer had any intention of doing so, or did he?
But now his mother knew.
“Answer me, Wentford!” she all but yelled as her hands grasped him by the lapels. “Is Eugenie with child?”
Sighing, Grant pried his mother’s hands from his jacket. “That does not matter. She—”
“Of course, it matters,” she interrupted. “You could have an heir. If it’s a boy, you’d have an heir.”
Grant shook his head. “If it’s a boy, he will inherit Adrian’s title and estate. You see? He will be well taken care of. Adrian will ensure that he grows up with every advantage. There’s no need to be concerned for him…or her.”
His mother’s jaw hardened and her eyes narrowed. “What about us?” she demanded, looking at him as though he were the greatest fool on the planet. “What about our line? Our title? What about Wentford Park? Do you truly not care that Theodora’s good-for-nothing son will inherit should anything happen to you?”
“Is this all you care about?” Grant thundered, surprising not only his mother but also himself. Anger boiled in his blood, and he glared down at her as he had never dared before. “I assure you I’ve made certain that should something happen to me, you’ll all be well taken care of. Of course, I will provide for my family. What kind of man do you think I am?” He felt his limbs begin to quiver with the need to move. “And Pierce is a good man, and I have no doubt that he will bring honor to our family and our title. It is you and Theodora who know no respect, no loyalty. You are the selfish harpies who do not understand the meaning of family. Pierce and I are on good terms despite your efforts to cause discord between us.”
Shocked at his outburst, his mother remained uncharacteristically quiet, and Grant wondered what was going through her head.
“If you do not wish to be part of this family,” he growled, “then all you need to do is say so and I shall make other arrangements.”
Staring at him, she turned as white as a sheet. “Are you saying you’d send me away?”
“I will if I have to,” Grant told her, holding her gaze to ensure she understood that he spoke in earnest. “I will not live the rest of my life with your hatred tainting everything around us. I will not allow you to overshadow my daughter’s and my wife’s lives. If you wish to remain, you need to be civil at the very least. Am I making myself clear?”
His mother’s lips thinned as she pressed them together in an effort to suppress her anger. Still, her eyes burned with something dark, and Grant wondered about the woman he had known all his life. How had he not seen this before?
“Do you understand, Mother?” he pressed when she remained silent. “I will not ask again.”
Giving a barely noticeable nod, his mother turned on her heel and strode toward the door.
“And not a word of this to anyone!” Grant ordered, feeling his blood run cold at the thought of his own treachery.
Turning to look at him, his mother scoffed. “I cannot fail to notice that your deeds betray your words.” Then she rushed from his study, her steps echoing down the hall.
Grant sighed as he sank down to sit on the edge of his desk. “What have I done?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A Welcome Visitor
Over the past couple of days, her mother-in-law seemed to have gone to great lengths to stay out of Nessa’s way. Their paths had rarely crossed, and when they’d found themselves in the same room by happenstance, the dowager countess had quickly excused herself. Meals were a quiet affair, and Nessa was grateful that her daughter had a mouth that would often run away with her, saving them all from awkward silence.
Still, Nessa could forget neither the way her mother-in-law had spoken to her nor the accusations she had laid at her door. Her heart ached at the thought that she might have caused her own son’s death. Had she been too old to birth a child? Was that why he had died?
As much as Nessa tried to convince herself that it wasn’t true, these thoughts lingered, drilling into her mind and heart day and night. She knew she ought to speak to Grant about this. However, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to do so. There was such deep-seated animosity between her and her mother-in-law that she felt reluctant to put Grant in the middle of it.
“Will you not tell me what’s on your mind?” her father asked one afternoon when they sat together on the terrace enjoying the warm weather. “For the past few days, you’ve seemed not quite yourself. Is there anything I can do?”
Smiling, Nessa squeezed his hand, welcoming the warmth his love always brought to her heart. “I don’t know if I should speak about it,” she whispered, suddenly longing to free herself of this burden and share it with another.
Her father’s gaze narrowed. “What did she say to you?”
Surprised at her father’s perception, Nessa stared at him. “How do you know?”
He chuckled. However, the sound did not speak of amusement. “You forget that I’ve known this woman for many years.” He frowned, then shook his head. “There is something deeply unsettling about her. I’ve often wondered how such a creature could have brought forth a wonderful man like Grant.”
Returning his smile, Nessa nodded, feeling more at ease to share what was on her mind. “She found me in the cemetery the other day and suggested that…”
“What?” her father pressed, his gaze darkening as carefully veiled anger slowly found its way onto his face. “What outrageous nonsense did she tell you?”
Nessa swallowed. “That I should never have married Grant. That it was because of…my advanced age that our son died. That I ruined—”
Her father’s head grew dark red as he began to sputter in outrage. “That loathsome—!”
“Cousin Audrey is coming!” Milly yelled as she came running up the slope from her little tree house. “Cousin Audrey is coming!”
Swallowing the words that had clearly been on the tip of his tongue, Nessa’s father turned to his granddaughter as she came rushing up to them, her little face aglow with excitement. “What did you say?”
Panting, Milly pointed through the glass doors at their back toward the front hall. “Cousin Audrey is here. I saw her carriage.”
“Were you spying again?” Milly’s grandfather asked, chuckling.
Grinning, the girl nodded, not the slightest hint of regret in her hazel eyes. “How else would I have known? Come! Let’s go and greet them!” And she dashed off, her youthful laughter echoing through the house.
No matter how bad Nessa felt, Milly’s joy and exuberance always managed to put a smile on her face. It seemed her father was not immune to his granddaughter’s charms, either. “That girl is the light of my old life,” he told her, a humorous twinkle back in his eyes as he struggled to his feet and escorted Nessa into the house. “She’s the brightest ray of sunshine I’ve ever seen.”
Nessa smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. Then she sobered and turned questioning eyes to her father. “Who is Cousin Audrey?”
“She is the daughter of Lord and Lady Crawford,” her father explained as they followed in Milly’s wake. “Viscount Crawford married your cousin Cornelia about a decade ago.” He squinted his eyes. “Yes, it must have been about a decade, give or take.” Grinning at her, he shrugged. “Audrey is about Milly’s age. They are thick as thieves those two, always up to no good.” Pride rang in his voice, and Nessa laughed.
“So, they’re close. What about Lady Crawford? Do I…did I know her well?”
Her father winked at her. “You called her Connie, and yes, you knew each other well.” He sighed. “After your mother died, we spent a lot of time with my brother’s family. Audrey and Milly remind me of the two of you when you were younger. The next generation of Bottombrook women,” he laughed, sligh
tly crinkling his nose at the name.
Nessa couldn’t help it and joined in, curious to meet the woman who had been like a sister to her.
As they stepped into the front hall, Brighton was opening the door, revealing a slender woman about Nessa’s age as well as a little girl, who could have been Milly’s twin. The moment the two girls spotted each other, shrieks echoed through the hall and they raced toward one another, their faces laughing. Embracing each other in a bear hug, they hopped up and down before they darted away, undoubtedly eager to hedge yet another devilish plan.
Nessa loved to see Milly so happy.
“It truly is you!”
At her cousin’s gasp, Nessa turned her head back to the front door, where her eyes swept over Lady Crawford…Cornelia…Connie.
With her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes as round as plates, Connie stood stock still, staring at Nessa as though she had seen a ghost. Her cheeks had gone pale, and her hands trembled ever so slightly. “I cannot believe it. When I received the invitation, I thought your husband was jesting. I…” Shaking her head, she slowly stepped toward Nessa as though afraid that a sudden movement might frighten her long-lost cousin away.
“Invitation?” Nessa mumbled, glancing at her father.
Still, an answer had to wait as Connie suddenly lunged forward, crushing Nessa in a fierce hug that threatened to break her bones. “It’s truly you!” she mumbled over and over again, holding on as though for dear life. “I didn’t dare believe.”
Overwhelmed, Nessa tried her best to return her cousin’s embrace, but was relieved when her father drew them apart. “Am I invisible?” he chuckled, holding open his arms to Connie. “Or do I not deserve a proper greeting?”
Laughing, Connie embraced him. Her eyes, however, remained with Nessa. “I’m sorry. I’m so overwhelmed. I still cannot believe that you’re truly here.”
A small smile came to Nessa’s lips as she looked at her cousin, wishing she would experience some kind of recognition.
