A Forbidden Love 1-4: The Wrong Brother; A Brillian Rose; The Forgotten Wife; An Unwelcome Proposal

by Bree Wolf

  Leaning into him, Catherine enjoyed the gentle shivers that danced down her back. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.

  William smiled. “And you’re impossible to resist.” His words fell against her lips as he answered her silent question the way he always did.

  Yes, he loved her.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Catherine smiled.

  Life couldn’t possibly get any sweeter, could it?

  Chapter One − A Day to be Remembered

  Two Days Later

  Blackness engulfed him, and William strained his ears as distant voices spoke nearby. His limbs felt strangely heavy, and his head pounded, a dull ache pulsing behind his forehead.

  With all his might, he tried to push back the heavy fog that rested on his mind, but it weighed him down like iron shackles.

  “Go and rest,” a voice said, sounding kind but commanding. “You’ve been sitting with him all day. I promise I will send for you the moment he comes to.”

  William frowned. His brother. It was his brother’s voice. Who was he talking to?

  A door opened and then closed, and for a moment, William wondered if he was alone.

  Then footsteps echoed to his ears as well as the sound of a chair being dragged forward, its legs scarping over the soft rug.

  Once more, William tried to clear his mind, trying to remember what had happened. How had he gotten back to the house? And why was his brother sitting by his bed?

  Willing his eyes to open, William moaned when the soft light from the candle on the nightstand pierced his eyes painfully.

  “Will?” Grabbing his hand, his brother shot to his feet and the chair toppled over and clattered to the floor. “Will, can you hear me?”

  Blinking, William tried to focus his gaze, and slowly, ever so slowly, his brother’s face came into focus. “Wesley?” he whispered. “What happened?”

  For a moment, his brother’s eyes closed, and utter relief washed over his face before he took a deep breath and met William’s eyes. “Do you not remember?”

  William frowned, then glanced around. “Am I at Harrington Park?”

  Wesley nodded. “You had an accident. We went out on horseback.” Guilt on his face, he shook his head as his lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe we shouldn’t have. The snow was too deep.” He swallowed, then took a deep breath and pressed on. “Your horse stumbled over a root or something hidden in the snow, and you were thrown. You rolled down the small slope and fell into the lake, breaking through the thin layer of ice.”

  Listening, William could not recall the events his brother was recounting with a most painful expression on his face. Why could he not remember?

  Rubbing his hands over his face, Wesley gritted his teeth. “When you didn’t come back up and sank under the surface, I thought…” Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. “You must’ve hit your head and lost consciousness. You almost drowned.”

  “And you pulled me out?” William asked.

  “I did.”

  “I thank you for that, Brother.”

  A soft smile on his lips, Wesley shook his head. “Ever the charmer.” Then he laughed and once more rubbed his hands over his face as though trying to rid himself of the memories that William eluded.

  Looking up at his brother, William frowned. “Did you get hurt as well?”

  “Me? No, why do you ask?”

  “Where did you get that scar on your left cheek?” The moment the question left his lips William realised that the injury that had left the scar had to have occurred some time ago. Then his mind found another oddity that had eluded him before. “Snow? Did you say there was snow?” Frowning, he stared at his brother. “Why would there be snow in May?”

  Wesley’s eyes opened wide. “It’s November.”

  “What?” William swallowed as the world slowly turned upside down. Staring at his brother’s face, he thought this had to be a joke, and yet, Wesley had never seemed farther from joking than he did in that moment. “How can it be November?” he stammered, unable to express the confusion that coursed through his head as he tried to make sense of his brother’s words. “Are you certain?”

  Wesley nodded, concern creasing his forehead. “I am.” He swallowed. “What is the last thing you remember? What is the last date you remember?”

  William closed his eyes, trying to drag up the images that hovered nearby. “The ball at Westington’s. When was that? May 8th?” His eyes snapped up to meet his brother’s. “How long have I been in this bed?”

  “Two days,” Wesley whispered, shaking his head as though he, too, could not believe what was happening. “You’ve been asleep for two days, and today, it’s Sunday, November 29.”

  Rubbing his hands over his face, William thought this had to be a bad dream. How could he not remember the last few months of his life? Again, he turned to his brother. “What happened since then? When did you get that scar? I don’t remember anything.”

  Wesley frowned, and absentmindedly he brushed a finger down the thin scar that ran over his left cheek. “It was a fencing accident. The blossom came off, and we didn’t notice.”

  “We?” William asked, and a new cold spread through his body as he saw his brother’s expression.

  Wesley nodded. “It was your foil,” he whispered as though afraid to speak too loudly. “But that was four years ago.”

  Again, William’s eyes went wide, and he felt as though someone was sitting on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

  “You said that the last date that you remember,” Wesley began, “was May 8th.” Nodding, William stared at his brother, who swallowed and then took a deep breath before continuing. “What year was that?”

  For a moment, William had no idea what his brother was asking before the realisation of its implications hit him right in the chest, squeezing the remaining air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he closed his eyes as bright spots began to dance in his field of vision.

  “What year, Will?”

  William opened his eyes and met his brother’s gaze. “1813.”

  Wesley swallowed. “That was five years ago. It’s now 1818.” Picking up the chair that had toppled over, his brother slumped into it as though unable to keep upright. “How is this possible?” he asked, his eyes distant for a second before they returned to William. “Do you truly not remember anything beyond May 8th, 1813?”

  Raking his mind, William tried to find something that he could place at a later date with certainty, but there was nothing. As though the fall had knocked them out of his head, five years had vanished into oblivion. Were they gone for good? William wondered, fear clawing at his heart. “What don’t I remember?” he whispered, meeting his brother’s eyes. “Mother, is she all right?”

  Wesley nodded, and William exhaled the breath that he’d been holding.

  “What else?” he pressed, unwilling to draw out the inevitable. Whatever he had experienced, lived through the past five years would now find him unprepared and unknowing. “Tell me what I don’t know.”

  For a split second, Wesley’s eyes widened before he turned them to his brother once more. “There is something that you need to know.”

  He swallowed, and William steeled himself for the shock that awaited him. Who had died? What loss had he forgotten?

  Leaning forward, Wesley took his brother’s hand. “You’re married,” he whispered, his eyes searching William’s face.

  As he was expecting to hear that someone close to him had passed away, relief filled William’s heart and he smiled, inhaling deeply.

  “Do you remember her?” Wesley asked, hope ringing in his voice.

  Instantly, relief was replaced by panic, and William stared at his brother, shaking his head.

  Sadness darkened his brother’s features. “Her name is Catherine, Catherine Dansby. Well, that was her name. Now, she is Catherine Everett, Countess of Harrington.” The hint of a wistful smile came to Wesley’s face. “You met her about two years ago, and from the m
oment you laid eyes on her, you were lost. You both were.” He chuckled. “Honestly, Brother, I’ve never seen you so besotted with a woman. You’ve been married for a year now, and you still look at each other the same way you did then.”

  Closing his eyes, William sighed.

  “Do you truly not remember her?” his brother asked. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  Meeting Wesley’s hopeful eyes, William shook his head.

  “Well, maybe you’ll recognise her once you see her,” he said, his voice, however, sounded feeble, and the doubt that rang in it sent chills down William’s back. “She’s been sitting here with you for two days. Only minutes before you woke up, I sent her to her room to rest.” He swallowed. “But I promised to send for her the minute you woke up.”

  A question hung in the air, and a part of William wanted to ignore it. What if he saw her and didn’t remember her? What would he do then?

  There was nothing he could do. Whether he remembered his wife−his wife!−or not, they were tied to each other. For better or worse, wasn’t that what it said?

  “Send for her,” William whispered, knowing that no matter what, he could not run from this moment forever.

  ***

  Blinking, Catherine yawned as her maid gently shook her shoulder, calling her name. For a moment, everything seemed distant and her mind felt heavy with sleep. But then her memories returned, and her eyes flew open. “My husband?” she gasped, staring at Sally’s face as her heart hammered in her chest.

  “He woke up,” her maid whispered, a joyous smile on her face.

  For a second, Catherine’s heart stopped. Then she jumped to her feet, all fatigue falling from her limbs as she raced out of her bedchamber and down the corridor. Unable to slow herself, she burst through the door into her husband’s chamber.

  Startled, her brother-in-law spun around and the chair he’d sat on clattered to the floor once again. “Catherine,” he gasped, his eyes guarded, his shoulders tense as though he had just received bad news.

  Trying to catch her breath, Catherine pushed past him, her eyes searching for the man in the bed. Had something happened? Had he taken a turn for the worse?

  Relief washed over her when she found her husband lying in bed, his eyes open, his chest rising and falling with every precious breath. “William,” she whispered, and tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I was so afraid.”

  “Hello,” he whispered, his eyes searching her face.

  Sinking onto the bed next to her husband, Catherine took his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, and all the strains of the past two days fell from her. Whatever had happened didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he had returned to her.

  Holding his hand against her cheek, she sat by his side as she had for the past two days, only now the tears that spilled down her face were tears of joy. Gazing down at him, she smiled. “I was so afraid to lose you, William. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Averting his gaze, he swallowed. “I…eh…” His gaze shifted upward and past her shoulder.

  “Is something wrong?” Catherine asked, seeing the strain on his face. “Are you in pain?” Turning her head, she looked up at her brother-in-law. “Wesley, we should call Dr. Martin.”

  Stepping forward, his face grave, her brother-in-law placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet.”

  As fear crept up her spine, Catherine’s gaze travelled back and forth between the two brothers. Something was wrong. She could see it in their eyes. “What is it? Will you not tell me?”

  Wesley nodded before he once more turned to his brother. “Are you certain?” he asked. “Nothing at all?”

  In reply, William shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Catherine asked, fear pressing on her heart. “Tell me!”

  Wesley took a deep breath and turned to her. “William seems fine…physically fine although I will send for Dr. Martin to be certain. However,” again, he took a deep breath, and chills crawled up Catherine’s arms, “he seems to be suffering from…memory loss.”

  “Memory loss?” Catherine’s eyes went wide before she turned to her husband. “William?”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his gaze barely meeting hers.

  At his words, a new cold spread through Catherine’s heart, and her mind felt dizzy and confused. “What are you…?” She swallowed, trying to focus her thoughts. “Are you saying you…you don’t remember me?”

  Almost helpless, he lay there, his eyes clouded and distant, as Catherine’s heart broke into a million little pieces. “That cannot be so,” she whispered. “I'm your wife. I…” A spark of hope swelled in her chest, and she said the only words that would convince her, “William, you’re impossible.” She had meant to say them lightly, but her voice broke on the last word.

  As fresh tears streamed down her face, she sat by his side and waited, hoping beyond hope to hear the words that would mean she hadn’t lost him.

  However, he did not say them.

  “I apologise,” he whispered instead, his face holding guilt and remorse above any other emotion she had hoped to see there. “I don’t know what to say. The last thing I want is to cause you pain, but I cannot give you what I don’t have.”

  As her hands began to tremble, she released his. No longer was he the man she loved, the man who loved her. From one moment to the next, he had become a stranger, just as she was to him, and oddly enough, holding hands seemed far too intimate. Inappropriate even.

  Dazed, Catherine rose to her feet, her hands smoothing down her dress before they began to tremble once more. Unable to keep them still, she laced her fingers, her nails digging painfully into the back of her hands. “I need to go,” she whispered, and before either of the two men could reply, she spun around and fled the room.

  Chapter Two − A Daring Plan

  With hands still trembling, Catherine stood by the window in the drawing room, her eyes gazing outside at the white splendour. Morning had come quickly, and with it the question of what to do.

  The night before, Catherine had retreated to her bedchamber, her heart and mind numb, and the moment her head had touched the pillow, she had been lost to the world. All night, she had slept, and when she had awoken not two hours ago, her heart had felt lighter.

  For a split second, she had thought everything was as it ought to be.

  But then her memories had returned.

  Staring across the lawn at the frozen lake barely visible in the distance, the lake whose waters had taken her husband from her, Catherine snorted at the irony of her thoughts.

  While he could not remember, she could not escape the memory of her husband’s confused face and the loss of love that had always lit up his eyes whenever they had caught a mere glimpse of her. How were they to continue? She wondered, and fresh tears came to her eyes.

  Annoyed, she brushed them away. Tears served no purpose. They could not bring back her husband’s love for her. Was there anything that could though? Was there a way she could help him remember? What if he never did? Would they be doomed to live as husband and wife only tied to one another by a bond of obligation?

  Closing her eyes, Catherine rested her head against the cold window pane, and her flushed face welcomed the sensation. Her heart, however, felt even heavier than it had the day before.

  Mumbled voices echoed to her ears from the front hall, pushing aside the deafening silence that hung about Harrington Park these days. Would laughter ever fill its halls again?

  Raising her head, Catherine turned to the door, blinking away the tears that clung to her eyelashes.

  A moment later, it swung open, and her sister appeared in its frame, her watchful eyes−eyes that looked so much like Catherine’s−sliding over her in the usual manner.

  Within seconds, Christine’s gaze took in her sister’s red-rimmed eyes and flushed face, the crumpled handkerchief in her hands and the slight tremble that Catherine couldn’t seem to sha
ke.

  At her sister’s misery, sadness began to cloud Christine’s eyes, but as she stepped forward, she seemed determined to look on the bright side, and a soft smile came to her face. “I came as soon as I heard,” she said, and her arms opened, offering comfort.

  Sinking into her sister’s embrace, Catherine felt the last shreds of control fall from her as heart-breaking sobs tore from her throat. Despair filled her heart, and for a moment, she gave into the black abyss that had called her to its depth from the moment her husband’s words had taken away the last rays of hope.

  Wrapping her arms around Catherine’s shoulders, Christine stroked her back, mumbling words of comfort in her ear as she slightly swayed from side to side.

  Minutes passed, minutes that felt like hours, and still Catherine felt reluctant to leave the comfort of her sister’s embrace behind and once more face the world.

  Sniffling, Catherine dabbed her already moist handkerchief to her eyes. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry for…”

  “Oh, pish!” her sister exclaimed, drawing her down onto the settee next to her. “Tell me what happened. I heard he had an accident. How bad is it?”

  Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, Catherine met her sister’s eyes. “After Wesley pulled him out of the lake, he was unconscious. I was so scared. I thought he was gone for good.” She sighed, once again blinking away tears. “Last night, he woke up.”

  Christine’s face brightened. “That’s wonderful! I am certain he will pull through. Will has always been a fighter.”

  Catherine swallowed as the tremble in her hands spread, and soon her whole body started to shake.

  “What is it?” Christine asked, taking her sister’s hands into her own. “Did he take a turn for the worse?”

  Again, Catherine swallowed before she met Christine’s eyes. “He doesn’t remember me.”

  “What?”

  Catherine shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Wesley says he is suffering from memory loss. He does not remember the past five years.”

  Christine’s eyes went wide. “Unbelievable! I’ve never heard such a thing. What does Dr. Martin say?”