A fresh wave of tears threatened, but this time born of gratitude rather than despair. “Thank you,” Courtney whispered. “Both of you. I came here feeling utterly alone in this, and now…”
“You’re never alone,” Farah said firmly, squeezing her hand. “Remember that tomorrow night when you face Lockwood.Behind you stands not just Lucien, but all of us who care for you both.”
Rockwell rose, his expression resolute. “I should go immediately. There’s much to arrange, and time is precious.” He bowed to both ladies. “I’ll send word as soon as I have anything useful.”
As he moved toward the door, Courtney called after him. “Rockwell—what if we fail? What if Lockwood exposes Lucien’s secret before we can stop him?”
He paused, turning back with unexpected gentleness in his usually sardonic eyes. “Then we face it together. Lucien survived losing his memory, building a life from nothing, discovering that life was built on deception, and returning to a family and fortune in ruins. He is stronger than even he believes, especially with you by his side.”
After Rockwell departed, Courtney and Farah sat in silence for several moments, the gravity of their situation settling around them like a heavy cloak.
“I must ask you something,” Courtney said finally. “Something that’s been troubling me since I learned the truth.” She met Farah’s gaze directly. “Do you think Lucien could ever truly trust again? Trust me enough to love me as he once did?”
Farah considered the question carefully. “I believe,” she said slowly, “that Lucien already trusts you more than anyone else in his new life. His failure to tell you about Ava-Marie wasn’t about lack of trust in you specifically—it was fear of losing what you’re rebuilding together.”
“But—”
“Not many men in his position would risk such a revelation at all. Most would bury the secret forever, allowing their illegitimate children to believe a comfortable fiction rather than face potential scandal.”
Courtney hadn’t considered it from that perspective. “He did say that there was something he needed to tell me when we got back to London. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin our time together in Dorset. It was very magical.”
The realization soothed some of the hurt Courtney had been nursing. Perhaps Lucien’s reluctance hadn’t been about trusting her specifically but about trusting anyone with a truth that could destroy his daughter’s future. Perhaps it had been less about their relationship and more about his own wounds, still raw from Ava’s betrayal.
“Tomorrow night,” she said with newfound resolve, “I will face Lockwood. I will buy us time. And when this is over, Lucien and I will face whatever comes—together.”
Farah smiled, pride evident in her expression. “Lockwood has no idea what he’s unleashed by threatening you and those you love. By the time we’re finished with him, he’ll wish he’d never conceived this scheme.”
Courtney touched her engagement ring once more, drawing strength from its cool solidity. Lucien was far more damaged than she’d previously understood. She wished she’d known all of this when they were in Dorset. She could have told him it didn’t matter a jot to her.
Before Lockwood’s visit, she had worried whether Lucien could ever love her. Now, she understood that perhaps the more important question was whether she could love him enough—enough to fight for their future despite the obstacles, enough to help him heal his wounded trust, enough to embrace Ava-Marie as her own regardless of her birth.
The answer, she found, was unequivocally yes.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucien sat bythe fire in his study with a large brandy in hand, mentally exhausted. Wolfarth had taken him to the House of Lords today. It was as if he’d never sat in the house before and trying to learn the etiquette and rules drained him. He was staying in tonight and Courtney was supposed to have joined the family for dinner, but she’d cried off. A bad headache her note had said, probably due to tiredness. She needed time to recover from the journey home from Dorset. But still, something in her manner was off.
He missed her. He couldn’t wait until they married, then she would be here with him all the time. He smiled as he remembered her laid out like the delectable feast she was, on his bed the night before they left Dorset. He’d finally thought the horror of the past five years were over and he was starting down a path that he should have walked before he was injured.
He had found a way to save his family and so far, no one had questioned his time in Ireland. He could finally begin to let his guard down. But he still had to tell Courtney. Did he? Wouldn’t she be better off not knowing?
Or were his trust issues clouding his judgement?
She had spoken of trust. If they married and she found out later that he’d withheld this important information…would she be able to forgive him? He took another drink and admitted to himself that Courtney would never look down on his daughter.She had such a big heart, and he knew she already looked on Ava-Marie as her soon-to-be daughter.
He sat gazing at the flames in the hearth. Tonight marked the first time in ages that he had a moment to himself to truly reflect on how much his life had transformed.
His daughter would have a life he’d never dreamed of giving her, and once he married and paid off the debts, he’d work his land and investments to ensure his family’s legacy was in good shape for his sons. He hated how he needed to marry Courtney to achieve his goals, but he would work hard to provide her a life she loved. He would make her happy and never disappoint her.
Love. What a word. It held such trepidation but also such hope. He thought about Ava and what she’d done to him—to his family. The five years she had stolen from him. But he had to admit they were happy years. He’d been content. And he had Ava-Marie, the love of his life.
“I forgive you, Ava,” he whispered into the silent room. He understood being desperate and that Ava grabbed the opportunity his injury presented. Wasn’t he doing the same with Courtney? The fact she’d loved him and probably still did played in his favor.
He had deep feelings for Courtney, but he’d only known her for a few weeks. His body craved her. He could still remember her scent, her soft skin, her understated sensuality drew him. His possessive instincts rose at the idea of another man making love to her.
She’s mine.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed ten as Lucien poured himself another brandy. The amber liquid caught the firelight as he swirled it in his glass, his mind still wrestling with his pending confession to Courtney. Tomorrow, he resolved. Tomorrow, he would tell her everything about Ava-Marie’s birth.
