Forget Me Not (The Gents Book #1)

by Sarah M. Eden

  Lucas took her hand, something she suspected he did by instinct more than anything else. She didn’t pull away.

  “I’ve felt incomplete since Stanley’s death.” He walked with her hand in his. “He was as much a brother to me as James and Philip. Nothing has been the same since he died.” He kicked at a pebble in the path.

  Julia held tight to him. He had reached for her in a time of struggle, like a valued and needed part of his life.

  He took a deep, shaky breath. “I couldn’t convince him not to fight. I tried. Neither he nor James would listen to me.”

  “Stubbornness is a defining trait of our families.”

  He smiled a little but with such sadness. “I admired their willingness to defend King and Country, but neither had the training nor the disposition for war.”

  “Did you always know they wouldn’t return?”

  His gaze dropped to the ground as they continued their trek out of the churchyard. “I was all but certain they wouldn’t.”

  Julia wrapped her arm around his, hoping to both give and receive comfort. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t take away what hope you had.”

  She leaned her head against his arm. “I sometimes wonder what life would be like if they were all still with us, our siblings and my mother.”

  “For one thing, Stanley would have beaten me to a pulp this last week for having caused you so much unhappiness.”

  How easily she could picture her protective older brother doing precisely that. “Stanley liked me.”

  “He had exceptional taste.”

  Julia sighed dramatically. “He ate a worrying amount of black pudding. I do think that calls his taste into question.”

  “He always chose the best places for the Gents to explore,” Lucas said. “He read about Portugal while we were at Eton. He spoke of going there for years.”

  Portugal. The trip she’d heard him planning a few times. “Did he ever get to go?”

  Lucas sighed. “He didn’t.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he is the reason you are so eager to go there?”

  “He isn’t the entire reason,” Lucas said. “I also genuinely want to see that country. And traveling with the Gents is a delight no matter where we go. They are family to me. We’ve forged bonds in suffering and heartache but have strengthened those connections in times of happiness. Other than Kes, I’ve not spent any unbroken time with any of them in over a year. Making our long-overdue trip to Portugal would help reconnect us. We need that after being apart for so long.”

  He’d not told her this before. “Absence can strain relationships.”

  “It has strained ours, hasn’t it?”

  Eight years of absence had done more than “strain” their relationship. But it was his broken promises that had dealt the felling blow. He’d promised to hold her whenever she needed him to but hadn’t inquired as to that need before deciding to be gone for months. He’d vowed to not leave without telling her but had finalized these plans without even a brief mention of them to her.

  “Do you know what I found most unsettling in the duke and duchess’s tense discussion of her travels?” she asked.

  Lucas watched her, a look of wariness in his eyes.

  “The duke’s anguish was so horribly familiar. She was leaving again, and he’d had no idea, quite as if he didn’t matter to her at all.” The ache in her chest tightened and twisted. “I heard little Lord Falstone ask his nursemaid why it was his mother didn’t want to spend time with him. I’ve wondered that same thing about you for years.”

  “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” He didn’t look at her, but she could still see the worry in his expression.

  “I don’t know, Lucas. I don’t know how to trust you. You’ve broken so many promises to me.”

  He stopped and turned to face her. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ll find a way to prove myself worthy of your trust and faith. I swear to you. Somehow, I’ll find a way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A packet arrived two days later, addressed to Lucas. The messenger identified its origin as Digby’s home.

  Lucas took the twine-tied packet with him as he made his daily walk to Farland Meadows. Julia had been allowing him to call, and their visits had been pleasant. But they needed something less formal and rigid if they were to recapture what they’d once had.

  He had a plan; he simply hoped whatever Digby had sent didn’t toss everything into chaos. He opened one end of the packet as he walked. Another smaller packet and two folded missives lay inside. He pulled all three out.

  Jonquil,

  These are for Our Julia. Not you. Give them to her.

  —D

  What mischief did Digby have up his sleeve?

  Lucas tucked the packet, twine and all, into the pocket of his greatcoat. His plans for the day could still go forward, but he would give her the packet before the day was out. Then he unfolded the other piece of parchment.

  Jonquil,

  Have just received word that the Duke of Kielder’s suffered a fatal stroke. Julia’s heart was so tender toward little Lord Falstone. She’ll be heartbroken for him and worried. Break the news gently.

  —D

  Lands. They’d seen His Grace mere weeks earlier. He was young, with a young family. Laws. That poor little boy. Julia would be devastated for him. Her heart could hardly bear more loss, even someone else’s.

  She was in the Farland Meadows’ sitting room when he arrived. “This is becoming a habit, Lucas.”

  “And here I am, ruining the pattern.” He rather enjoyed her adorable look of curious confusion. “I’ve come to take you on an adventure.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Will I enjoy this adventure?”

  He loved when her eyes danced with mischief. He closed the distance between them and leaned close enough to lower his voice. “My dear, you invented this adventure.”

  She tipped her head in saucy contemplation. “We’re going to call Robert Finley a ‘fish face’?”

  A laugh burst from him. “I’d forgotten you’d called him that.”

  “He made Charlotte cry, and he did so on purpose.”

  “He always was a little rat of a child,” Lucas said through his tight jaw.

  “A fish face,” she said firmly.

  “We should go to Finley Grange and call him that.”

  Her expression lightened a little. “It will be like we’re eight years old again.”

  He shrugged. “I was sixteen,” he said. “And as I recall, I applauded.”

  “I always appreciated that you weren’t put off by my spitfire tendencies. Especially considering on more than one occasion I called you a pompous embarrassment to the neighborhood.”

  He winced theatrically. “It only hurt because it was truer than it ought to have been.”

  “And still, you didn’t hold it against me.”

  He shook his head. “Far from it. Your fire is one of the first things I loved about you.” He held his hand out to her. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

  She slipped her hand in his. “Always.”

  “Do you promise?”

  The question made her pause. She watched him unexpectedly.

  He hadn’t planned to ask that particular question but found he very much wanted an answer. “When we were at Brier Hill, I promised to hold you and comfort you when you need comfort and to hear your concerns when you have them. I will do so happily.”

  She slipped free, moving a little ahead of him. But she walked slowly, even looking back at him. Clearly, she meant for him to walk with her. “You also promised not to leave without talking with me about it first.”

  He understood the point she was making. He’d planned his upcoming journeys without so much as a mention t
o her.

  “You’ve told me about a few of your dreams since we’ve been married,” she said, walking on. “I’ve been listening closely, anxiously waiting to hear myself included in them.”

  “Julia, you married an idiot.”

  “I know,” she said with a smile. “Aldric told me. And Kes. And Digby.”

  “That reminds me.” He reached into the pocket of his coat. “The King has sent you something.”

  He handed her the smaller packet that had arrived with Digby’s note. She accepted it eagerly. “No one ever sends me anything.”

  Lucas, in that moment, added to his list of vows that he would send her letters and packets and make certain she never felt forgotten.

  “You asked if I would go on adventures with you. I believe I would like to accept that invitation.”

  “Does this mean you intend to join me?” His heart thudded hopefully.

  “I made a promise to go on adventures with you. And so adventuring we will go.”

  Relief and excitement surged through him. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the ground and spinning her about. Her almost girlish giggle only added to the utter delight he felt. His beloved Julia was happy. That meant the world to him.

  He kept her in his arms, her feet off the ground and one arm hooked behind his neck.

  All he could think was, Don’t ruin this, Lucas. He’d made such a mull of things between them and had done so often enough to be legitimately worried. She was beginning to thaw, beginning to trust. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing what little progress he was making.

  As he slowly set her on her feet once more, he took courage in the smile she wore.

  He kept one arm around her waist and walked beside her out of the house. “Have you guessed where our adventure is taking us today?”

  “No,” she said, “but I’m still excited.”

  “Does that mean you trust me?” He posed the question lightly, but it was anything but frivolous.

  Her smile froze a little. “Enough for an afternoon’s excursion.”

  He’d pressed too hard too soon. “I will accept that for the gift that it truly is.”

  They walked on a moment, the silence between them a little awkward, a little uneasy.

  “You can open Digby’s packet if you’d like. We have time, and I’m overflowing with curiosity.”

  “You didn’t peek?” she asked with a cheeky tip of her head.

  “He told me not to. No one disobeys a monarch.”

  She smiled as she untied the twine around the small paper-wrapped parcel. She folded back the paper and pulled out a small stack of sealed letters.

  “They’re for me,” she said in amazement. “I never get letters, and here I have”—she counted them—“five letters just for me.”

  Again, he silently vowed to write to her.

  The Trent lapped peacefully against its banks as they walked on the trail beside it.

  “They’re from the Gents,” Julia said. She held them up to show him. Each was labeled “to Our Julia,” followed by “from the General” and another “from Archbishop,” another “from Grumpy Uncle,” another “from the King,” another “from Puppy.” All five had written to her.

  “What do you suppose they could be writing to me about?” She didn’t sound nervous. That was a good sign.

  “They are probably tattling on me,” he said with a theatrical sigh.

  Her eyes pulled wide with the same mischievous excitement he knew well from their childhood. “What did you do?”

  “Why do you assume I’m guilty?”

  “I’ve known you all my life, Lucas Henry Jonquil. You don’t have me fooled.”

  He shook his head and tucked her close to his side. “You are trouble, Caroline Julia Jonquil.”

  She pulled in a breath. “The bridge. We’re going to the bridge.”

  He nodded. “We did have a great deal of fun there over the years.”

  She took his hand and pulled him toward their destination. “I always thought this the most magical bridge in all the world,” she said. “You didn’t even laugh when I told you I thought there were fairies living inside it.”

  “Perhaps I didn’t laugh, my dear, because I believed the same thing.” He motioned to the ancient structure. “Flowers grow right out of the side. I can think of no reason for that other than fairies.”

  She preceded him onto the bridge. “You were never unkind about my childish interpretation of things, though you did tease me about it.”

  “You were so much fun to tease. I couldn’t resist.” He joined her, looking out over the Trent. “I love Brier Hill, but no place will ever be home to me quite like this.”

  She turned, leaning her back against the bridge wall. “Stanley endured such a lecture from Mother the morning after the three of us slept on the bridge. ‘What if Julia had been cold?’ ‘What if she’d fallen into the river?’”

  Lucas adjusted his position so he looked at her rather than the river. “He didn’t tell me he’d gotten in trouble for that bit of mischief.”

  A hint of nostalgia filled her eyes. “He rescued himself with three words.”

  “Did he?” Intriguing. “What did he say?”

  She looked at him. “He said, ‘Lucas was there.’ Mother wasn’t worried after that.”

  “I wish I could say I was worthy of her faith in me.”

  Julia looked away. “You weren’t so far off the mark as that.”

  “But I’m far from it now.” He squared his shoulders, not allowing himself to drown in regrets. “I don’t intend to stop trying though. I want to be the sort of gentleman I ought to have been all along, the sort who very nearly deserves to have you in his life.”

  “I don’t need anything overly fine or fancy,” she said. “I need you to want me in your life. I don’t wish for us to have the lonely marriage Their Graces do.”

  He hated to follow that topic, but Digby was correct: she needed to hear the shocking and heartrending news from one who would tell her gently. “Digby sent me a missive as well, Julia, with some news he felt best you heard from me.”

  Her complexion paled. “What is it?”

  Lucas took her hands in his. “Word has come from Falstone Castle.”

  “Has something happened to little Lord Falstone?” she asked quietly.

  He shook his head no. “The duke has suffered a stroke. He’s dead.”

  “Oh my heavens.” Her chin shook. “His little boy. Oh, he must be devastated.”

  “I don’t know anything other than that the duke has passed away.”

  Tears formed in her eyes. “He’s lost his father, and his mother is never home.” Her voice broke. “What will he do? He’ll be so alone.”

  Lucas slipped his arms around her, holding her as she grieved on behalf of the tiny new duke. “I’m certain his mother won’t abandon him.”

  “We live nearby,” Julia said. “We could look in on him now and then.”

  We, she had said. How he hoped that meant she had some desire to return with him to Brier Hill.

  “I could never countenance not reaching out to a lonely or hurting child,” Lucas said. “We will do whatever we can for him.”

  She laid her head against him, holding fast to the collar of his coat. “I have always admired that about you, Lucas. You show such kindness to those who need it, especially children.”

  “If I ever show you anything less than kindness, Julia, do not hesitate to reprimand me for it. I don’t ever want to hurt you again. Not ever.”

  She brushed the heel of her hand over her cheek, wiping away moisture. She, too, had a soft spot in her heart for children, caring for them and worrying for them. Someday, he hoped, they might have children of their own they could care for and love and fill their home with. He could imagine nothing more magica
l than building a family with her.

  “I have something for you.”

  That brought her gaze to him once more. Tears still hung in her eyes. Her heart would ache for some time for the little boy in the castle. “You do?”

  “It isn’t a bribe, simply something I ought to have given you weeks and weeks ago, regardless of how our wager ended.”

  Realization pulled her eyes wide and brought a little brightness to them again. “My gift from your Grand Tour.”

  He reached into his pocket. “I obtained it in Paris. I knew as soon as I saw it that it was meant for you.” He set the little bundle, brown paper held together with ribbon, in her hand.

  She didn’t open it immediately but looked at it with brow drawn, remaining in his arms. “I am still amazed that you thought of me while you were in Europe.”

  “I have thought of you every day of your life, Julia.”

  Her lips pressed together but still trembled. When she spoke, her voice emerged heartbreakingly quiet once more. “Then why did you never write to me or visit me or miss me enough to want to see me again?”

  Lucas leaned back a bit and gently cupped her face. “Because I’m a fool.”

  Sadness touched her eyes once more, and his heart broke at the sight. “All I wanted was to matter to you.”

  “My Julia.” He pulled her closer once more. “You are the world to me.” He brushed one of her tears away with the pad of his thumb. “I mean to make certain you never have reason again to doubt that.”

  “And I don’t want you to not go to Portugal or to not continue traveling with the Gents. Truly, I don’t. I know that is important to you.”

  “You are important to me.”

  “Do you remember how I learned that you were moving to Brier Hill eight years ago?” she pressed.

  She’d told him recently, but she needed to tell him once again, so he let her.

  “Robert Finley told me. He taunted me with it. Over the years that followed, he made a point of telling me when you had returned for a visit while I was away, that you obviously had not bothered to tell me of your impending return so that I could be here or you had made certain I would not be before deciding to visit.”