The Wedding Planner's Baby (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm)

by Amanda Ashby

  “Agree about what?” she asked in a cautious voice.

  “There’s another way to save the estate.”

  “What?” Bec almost yelped. “What is it? Why didn’t Lincoln tell me about it?”

  Lady Ashford was silent as she pressed her mouth together. “The problem is the alternative has never been one Lincoln cared for. My dearest friend has a daughter. Her name’s Victoria, and she’s an heiress. An heiress who’s more than happy to buy into a title. Plus, she knows this life. Belongs in this world. She understands what it will take to save the estate…”

  Bec’s throat went dry as she stared at the screen, half expecting Lincoln’s mother to start laughing, as if what she was saying was some elaborate joke. Except from what little she knew of Lady Ashford, she didn’t seem like she was big on the joking.

  “Y-you want him to marry for money?”

  “I want him to save the estate he was born into,” Lady Ashford corrected, the harsh set to her face softening. “And I know he’s never liked the idea. Long before he ever met you, he refused to consider it, which was why he hunted so hard for an investment deal. And now…well, it’s not what anyone would call an ideal solution.”

  “Not an ideal solution?” Bec’s mouth dropped open as she finally understood what the conversation was about.

  She began to shake.

  “I know you must dislike me right now, but once your child’s born, you’ll understand just how far you’ll go to make him or her happy.”

  “I make Lincoln happy,” Bec said. Well, she hoped she did. He certainly made her happy. And he would be the most amazing father any child could wish for. “You can’t seriously be asking me to help you with this.”

  “And yet I am,” Lady Ashford said. “Let me tell you a bit about my son. Lincoln stopped being a child at the age of fourteen when he had to step in for a public engagement because his father was too drunk to attend. It wasn’t the first time Oliver had done something like that, and it certainly wasn’t the last. But Lincoln was never like his father. He understands the responsibilities, and has never turned from them. Not once. Not when the bank letters kept coming. The tax demands. He’s always known his duty.”

  “And he still knows it,” Bec said. “He’d do anything to save the estate.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you—how do you think he’ll feel if the bank takes the estate? He’ll be torn, and he’ll never stop trying to get it back. But he’ll also feel his duty to you and his child. He’ll spend his whole life trying to make things right, and it will destroy him.”

  “That’s not fair.” Bec’s temples began to throb. Lincoln in his identity of Lord Ashford was only a pale shadow of the man she’d fallen for. The man who laughed and let her draw a moustache on him with her eyeliner, just because it was funny. The man who climbed an abbey ruin, the man from Italy. That was all hidden from the rest of the world, and that was a crying shame. “The life you’re asking him to lead isn’t fair. It’s suffocating him.”

  “No one knows more than I do how exhausting this life is.” Lady Ashford paused as her eyes flashed with unspoken emotion. Then it was gone. “I’m not the one demanding it. It’s the estate, the name. Five hundred years of expectations. It greets you at the door like a butler and never lets go. I’m just a visitor here, but this is where Lincoln was born. It’s in his DNA.”

  Bec wanted to throw the cell across the room, but she didn’t. Tears pricked at her eyes. Lincoln had once told her he wasn’t scared of his mother because he understood her pain. Was this what he meant? His mother had no more choice in her life than he did.

  What about their plans?

  He was going to stay with her and the baby and just fly over when he needed to. Except she was now starting to see how impossible that idea had been. The reality was that every time he left her, she’d be on her own. And while she didn’t believe for a minute he’d marry for the sake of his estate, she also knew that he’d never stop trying to find an answer.

  Which means he’ll never be mine. Not really. Not fully.

  “This whole thing, it’s not fair.” She was dangerously close to crying now, but she swallowed back the tears.

  “Bec, I know how it feels to want something you can’t have. How every fiber in your body screams at you to figure out a way, but you can’t,” Lincoln’s mother said. Her voice turned brittle. “I can promise you’ll survive. That you’ll have more comfort in your child than you can ever imagine.”

  Bec was silent. Lincoln had told her that whatever love his parents had once felt for one another died out very early on. So, if his mother didn’t love the tenth Lord Ashford…then who?

  “Howard.” Bec sat up straight. She knew he’d been too good looking for Lincoln’s mother not to sneak a peek. “You’re in love with Howard.”

  Lady Ashford’s eyes flickered. “Lincoln said you had an uncanny knack of knowing things. He wasn’t exaggerating. Does this mean my son knows?”

  “God, no.” Bec shook her head, not sure why she even cared. After all, this conversation was turning into one of the worst in her life. Though, I don’t think his mom’s enjoying it too much, either. The fact they had something in common didn’t make it better. “So how does Howard feel about it?”

  “We both decided our focus had to be on the estate. We owed it to my children to try and fix the mistakes their father had made.” A brittle laugh escaped the older woman’s mouth. “And so it’s been for twenty years. You see, then, I’m not asking you to give up anything I haven’t given up myself.”

  “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Bec let out her breath, the fight going from her body. She was tired. As tired as his mother looked. Lincoln said he didn’t want to drag her into his world. Was this why?

  “It’s life, I’m afraid. I’m not saying this out of spite. I’m saying it out of love for my children. I hope your child—my grandchild—will also be someone I grow to love. It’s just I know if Lincoln stays with you, he’ll lose half of his world. Half of himself, and that would break my heart more than anything.”

  And mine.

  “Please, at least think about it. This is where he belongs, and while he’s with you, he’s never going to be whole,” Lincoln’s mother said before finishing the call. Bec stared at the blank screen then shut her eyes, hoping it would silence her pounding heart.

  It didn’t work.

  Her heartbeat got louder, marking time as her mind whirled. Lincoln couldn’t marry for money. We’re connected. Together. He belongs with me.

  Except that’s a lie and you know it.

  Lincoln had a place where he belonged, and as much as Bec tried to fight it, that fact wouldn’t change. He might want to be with her, but it wasn’t where he belonged. He was always going to be torn, which meant that Bec was always going to be watching him get dressed in his Savile Row suit to catch a flight. He’d never really be with her.

  And if she and the baby moved to England, would it solve anything?

  No, because he’d still be distracted and we’d be part of the problem, not the solution.

  Her hand flew to her mouth to stop her whimper. People always said she had a strange intuition, but surely that was a lie. Because if that were true, then I wouldn’t be so blindsided. She clenched her fists as the hopelessness of the situation overwhelmed her. She’d always known life was unfair. That’s why her parents had been killed and she’d been left to grow up without any memory of them. But she’d stupidly hoped this time things would work out.

  I can’t be someone’s duty.

  Someone’s obligation. She’d felt it since the day her parents died, and she certainly didn’t want her baby to experience it. Which means I’m right back where I started. On the outside and all alone.

  …

  “Okay, so I think we’re almost done.” Pepper set out the oyster forks that Bec had worked so hard to source for the engagement party later that night. Emmy and Christopher had taken charge of the decorations and turned t
he barn into a fairyland, with thirty vintage lights hanging down from the beams, and trails of ivy draping over the numerous old picture frames hanging on the walls. The tables were covered in mismatched linen, and Pepper had even set up an old-fashioned camera for people to pose with.

  It was exactly the kind of thing Bec normally adored. But right now, all she could think of was Lincoln. And the fact I have to say good-bye to him.

  She pinched her arm to stop herself from crying, and walked over to the tractor. They’d decided to leave it in the corner of the barn, and it was currently festooned in daisy chains.

  Bec patted Matilda. “You look very lovely tonight.” And no, Lincoln’s not here, so don’t look at me like that. Then she scowled. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Every place and every thing reminding of her of the past? Talking to a tractor?

  To think, she’d always longed for more memories of her parents, and now her mind was flooded with memories of Lincoln, and she hadn’t even broken up with him yet.

  But she had to. And she had to do it soon, because the longer she left it, the easier it would be to talk herself out it. Why hadn’t he returned her call? Didn’t he know she was a “rip the bandage off quickly” kind of girl? She needed to do this now.

  She glanced around to check her sisters were both busy before heading back across to the farmhouse.

  The caterers were doing most of the cooking offsite, but the three sisters had stayed up late last night baking some of Ivy’s favorite recipes to insure the event had the essence of what the farm was about. Well, that was Emmy’s theory. Bec’s theory was the world was a better place when you were eating lemon drizzle cupcakes, and so she reached for one. Just as she was about to stuff it in her mouth, her cell phone beeped and Lincoln’s name flashed onto the screen for a Skype call.

  “Hey,” he said as his face came into focus. He looked tired, and the urge to push away the screen and the thousands of miles of distance so she could touch him was overwhelming. She sat on her hand.

  “Hey.” She croaked as the air thrummed. “Sorry I left you so many messages. I really wanted to speak to you.”

  “They were the highlight of my day.” He rubbed his jaw. “Which is code for saying the meetings didn’t go well. But don’t worry. I’m working on some more things. The problem is that I might not make it back for the sonogram. Bec, I’m so sorry.”

  And there it was.

  Confirmation that what she was doing the right thing. That if they tried to make it work things would only get harder. Each time he let her down it would be harder to bounce back. It would hurt more. Hurt her baby more. Besides, she had no memories of what her parents were like. At least her baby would always know they had one parent who was there all the time. Who could always put them first.

  She flinched. That was unfair to Lincoln. She knew in his heart all he wanted was to be there for her and the baby, but circumstances weren’t giving him a choice.

  Now it was time they both accepted it.

  “Lincoln, it’s okay.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth as tears prickled in her eyes.

  “No, it’s not. I promised I’d be there. And I swear that if there were anything I could do…”

  “I know.” She shut her eyes, wondering if it would be easier to do what needed to be done if she couldn’t see him. “I spoke to your mom. I know there’s another option to save the estate.”

  “What? No, there—” He stopped, and his whole body stiffened. His green-blue eyes turned dark. “Bec, that was never an option. Not for me. My mother never should’ve told you otherwise.”

  “Don’t blame her. She said you’d never agree to it. But she also said that if you lost the estate, you’d never stop fighting to get it back. It would split you in two.”

  “I’m split, anyway. The life I want is with you and our child; it’s not here. It’s not with any of this.” As he spoke, he held up his hand to the high-corniced ceilings and the lavish furniture, and Bec almost burst out laughing as she looked at the farmhouse, with the mismatched table and chairs Ivy would never part with. Who had she been kidding? They came from two different worlds, and he might not know it now, but one day he might not forgive her for making him give up his home just for the sake of her. As for going to his world, she belonged there even less than she belonged at the farm. “If you’re asking me to choose,” he said, “I choose you.”

  Her lower lip trembled as the irony struck her. The words she’d been longing for her entire life were right in front of her, carved out in the air. But they came at a price she didn’t want to pay.

  Which was the whole problem. All her life she’d been someone’s second thought. An orphan who needed a home, a wild child no one quite related to. Was it greedy of her to want to be the one who came first?

  He hasn’t even said he loves me.

  I’m still the problem that needs taking care of.

  And for him to give her what she wanted, his entire heritage and everyone he loved would be crushed along the way.

  What if his sacrifice made him bitter?

  Bitter about her?

  Bitter about their child? As tempting as it was to climb back into the soft-focus haze of the bubble that always surrounded them, she knew it wasn’t realistic. He would have to break himself in half to make her happy, and that wasn’t the kind of relationship she wanted.

  Her whole body was shaking so much she had to pinch her legs to stop. How was this so hard?

  Because I love him. It was a harsh truth to learn. She closed her eyes and let her emotions wash through her.

  “I’m not asking you to choose. I’m choosing for you. You’re the most honorable, loyal man I’ve ever met, and I don’t want to come between you and your duty. I know you won’t marry for money, but I do know you’ll figure out something else. It’s just I can’t put my life on hold while you do.”

  “Don’t do this,” his voice was firm as his eyes caught hers. She forced herself to hold his gaze.

  “I have to.” She gripped her hands together as the color drained from his face and his jaw clenched, like he was fighting some great war. The silence was deafening as he lowered his head into his hands. Oh, God. I did that. Her throat tightened, but she refused to look away.

  What am I looking for? What am I hoping will happen? That he’ll refuse to listen to me? That he’ll tell me he loves me?

  She had no idea how long they both sat there, separated by a screen and the cruelty of circumstance, but finally he spoke. “If that’s what you really want.” His face was a mask.

  “It is,” she lied, grateful he couldn’t see her fists, clenched into two tight balls in her lap. “I promise I’ll send you pictures, and I’ll keep you posted. I won’t block you from our child’s life, but I have to block you out of mine. I should’ve done it the first time you came here. I blame that thing you do with your mouth.”

  “Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath. His green-blue eyes looked almost gray against the tired lines on his face, but he managed a smile. “I’ll try and stop the mouth thing from now on. So, what about the wedding? Are you cancelling that, too?”

  “Pepper would kill me. She’s turned into a budgeting demon, and if I had to refund the money it would cause chaos. But…” Bec forced herself to get out the words before she could change her mind. “It would be better if we don’t speak. I’ll finish all the details and send you everything by email. Unless you still haven’t found Julia and Richard.”

  “I’ll find them. I’ve screwed everything else up, but I won’t let you down on a bride and groom,” his said, his voice hoarse. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?”

  “If there was, you wouldn’t be the man I know. I’m sorry, Lincoln.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said. He leaned forward and touched something on the screen. Then his face was gone, and Bec could finally let herself cry.

  Chapter Eleven

  “And there’s the baby’s heart.” The doct
or pointed to the tiny bean-shaped thing on the grainy photograph in Bec’s hand. He’d already shown it to her during the sonogram but had decided to show it all to her again. “So you can tell Lincoln what he’s looking at when he’s back from overseas.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Doctor Anderson,” Bec said, deciding it was easier to just pretend rather than try to explain. Especially because if she told him the truth, everyone else would know the truth, and then they’d ask a lot of questions and Bec would be forced to scream or yell, or at the very least do some swearing. So, really, it was in the public’s interest she didn’t go into details.

  All she knew was that she was miserable. And she’d once spent six months trying to study accounting, so she knew a thing or two about misery.

  She picked up her purse and hurried out to the waiting room. Coop and her sisters had wanted to come, too, worried about how she was coping with the breakup. But she’d refused. It was better for her to get used to doing things on her own again. That’s what she’d always done, and it was just like riding a bike.

  Coop had needed his car back, so she was driving Emmy’s old pickup truck, and it didn’t take her long to reach the farm. Despite wanting to stay in her cottage and ignore the world, business was hectic, so she slowly plodded into the farmhouse where her sisters were debating over some cut-glass vases.

  The both looked up as soon as Bec walked in.

  “How was the sonogram?” Emmy asked as she patted the chair next to her.

  “Good. Everything looks exactly like it should.” Bec sat down and fumbled around in her purse until she found the photograph. Guilt caught in her throat. I should be happy about this. I am happy about this. She sucked in a breath and sent the tiny creature nestled inside her a quick apology. “He’s sending me a video, too.”

  Emmy let out an unexpected gasp as she studied the picture. “Oh, Bec. It’s your baby.”

  “It’s so tiny.” Pepper leaned over, her brow pushed together in concentration. Then when she looked up, her navy eyes were misty. “I didn’t expect it to be so tiny.”