The mere mention of his name was enough for Ophelia to feel angry all over again. Everything that had gone south in their lives was after the arrival of Uncle Edgar, their father’s younger brother. After their father had passed away suddenly, leaving them alone in the world, Uncle Edgar had become the viscount and had taken everything away from them.
Their wealth.
Their house.
Their life.
Their position in society.
Their happiness.
And most of all, the happy memories they had of their father in the house they had grown up in.
He had deprived them in a way where Ophelia was sure she would never be able to forgive him for all he had done. While they had been forced to move out of their home and shift into a cottage meant for housekeepers and nannies, he did not even occupy the main house and left it under the supervision of maids while he stayed away in Hastings. The least he could have done was allow them to stay, but he refused even this small luxury.
“We won’t ever ask him for anything,” Ophelia said resolutely, trying to control the anger coursing through her.
“Do we have any other choice? If I do not remarry, we will certainly not be able to afford food very soon,” her mother reasoned. But even though Ophelia knew she was right, she was determined not to let it happen. She would go to any lengths to protect her mother from the utter ruin she was planning to throw herself into. This was her duty as her father’s daughter, and she was not going to disappoint.
“Mother, do you trust me?”
“Absolutely, I do.” She smiled, squeezing Ophelia’s hand tightly.
“Then have a little faith in my word. I promise we will figure something out. We will work out a plan where you won’t have to sacrifice yourself.”
“What will you do, Ophelia?”
“I do not know that yet, but I am sure I will be able to find a job as a nanny or a governess to someone from the nobility,” she said, smiling with determination shining in her hazel eyes, “And if not this, I will still be able to do something. Our lives have been snatched away from us, but I will not let my brother and sister suffer through it.”
“I trust you,” her mother reassured her, and Ophelia knew with her mother’s faith, she just might find a solution to this problem.
She absolutely had to.
***
A knock on his study door forced Edward to stop his insistent pacing and stare at the closed wooden barrier between him and whoever was outside it. He had no desire to see anyone, but he had already been locked up inside since this morning and could not continue to ignore the world outside forever.
Had he been just anyone and not the Earl of Sommers, he could have stayed locked inside without anyone asking for him.
His title deprived him of the luxury of being invisible, even though all he wanted to be was just that. Invisible andunseen to anyone and everyone, at least until he wanted to emerge himself. Whenever that might be.
“It’s open,” he said loudly, walking towards the bar and opening the almost empty decanter of Scotch on the counter.
The door creaked open behind him, but he did not turn around, patiently pouring his Scotch into the glass from which he had already been drinking. How many glasses did he have since this morning? He could hardly recall. He needed to control his drinking, but the present condition he was trapped in did not give him a reason to do that either. He needed to forget. And what was better than Scotch?
“My Lord?”
“Yes, Mrs Bailey?” Edward asked, finally turning around to stare at the woman he had expected all along. She was old enough to be his mother and was always dressed in varying shades of grey, her appearance modest.
Edward had nothing against her, but he simply could not help creating distance between him and the world.
“I just came to inform you that Miss Amy has fallen asleep soundly, just like she does every night. She is a very calm child but gets fussy at times, considering she has no mother and no warmth in the world despite being as young as just two months old.”
Edward sighed deeply, unsure what he was supposed to do with this information. He did not care.
He did not care if his two-month-old niece, Amy, was well-fed or had slept on time. Yet, Mrs Bailey made an effort to provide him with every little detail of her day as if, as her guardian, he needed to know these things. His sister had died and had left him as the guardian of her one-month-old daughter.
His sister had died.
