What was so wrong?”
He shrugged negligently and moved to sit on the settee, or rather, he slumped. “I do not have the time to devote to her upbringing.”
“You mean, because you are too busy drinking?” she said bitterly. “That is no excuse. She is your daughter.”
“As some unknown woman had claimed.” He laid his head against the back of the cushions and closed his eyes. “But since I have no recollection of the lady, then—”
“I have taken care of that.”
At this, his eyes popped back open. “What?”
She lifted her chin. “I found some information regarding Arabella’s mother.”
He seemed to have trouble comprehending what she was saying. “What?”
“I spoke to the members of the Widows’ council, discreetly, of course, and asked them to find out what they could about Miss Jenkins’ mother. I had intended to write to you after I was settled at the Manor, but after the Duke of Argyle’s impromptu visit, I was compelled to come here first.”
Brandt frowned, forgoing all pretense of being inebriated in light of this latest development. Not only was he unsettled about her seeking information without consulting him first, but the fact she hadn’t even planned to say goodbye bothered him more. Because of his irritation, it made him to snap, “When do you think you might have told me about this? She is my ward.”
“I thought it only fair that she have some sort of name to put with the woman she will undoubtedly forget as time moves forward. She is too young to have any lasting memory of her mother.”
“So you did this for Arabella. How sacrificing of you.”
He stood up and moved over to the mantel. He wasn’t sure if he was furious that she had interfered or thankful. It had long bothered him that he hadn’t been able to pin down a woman by the name of Miss Abigail Jenkins.
“I did do this for her, because she has a right to know.” She swallowed heavily. “If it were my child, I would wish for the same.”
All of a sudden, her reasons became clear to Brandt. For someone who had suffered the loss of two of her own babes, giving Arabella this chance to remember a faceless woman in the future was her way of doing something good.
He crossed his arms, some of his irritation fading. “What did you find?” he asked, softening his tone.
“One of the ladies from the council knew Miss Jenkins. Apparently, she was the cousin to one of her neighbor’s servants. The moment I said the name, it had sounded familiar to her. After a bit of time, this was recovered from the cousin.” She held up a locket. “When Abigail became ill, she had a miniature made of her likeness. The cousin decided that Abigail would be better remembered around the neck of her daughter rather than sitting in a drawer collecting dust.”
For an instant, Brandt couldn’t move, but he found himself crossing the expanse.
He took the locket from Ada’s grasp and tried not to let his hand shake as he did so. He gently pried it open. Inside was a single portrait of a young woman with curly hair and simple clothing. But it was the mischievous smile that struck him in the center of his chest, because it was exactly like Arabella’s. And now that he had a face to the name, he realized that this woman was known to him after all, although not enough to remember in his youth. She had been a house maid in whom he’d taken a fancy. While there weren’t many things he had been proud of during those days before he sailed for Egypt, he couldn’t regret his time with Abigail Jenkins, because it had given him a precious gift—a daughter.
He gently closed the locket and held it securely in his palm.
Ada wondered what was going on in Brandt’s mind in that moment. The anticipation was rushing through her veins as she waited for him to either deny or admit to his affair with Abigail.
“I remember her,” he finally said in a husky tone.
She wasn’t sure if it was relief or resignation she felt at his admission. “You do?”
“Yes.” He sighed heavily and sank down in the chair closest to him. He ran a hand through his hair, keeping the locket in his grasp. He stared down at it for the longest time. Ada’s heart plummeted. Although she had intended on coming here and giving Brandt a proper set down for letting Arabella go, she couldn’t ignore the fact he seemed absolutely despondent over the woman in the miniature. He must have cared for her rather deeply. But when he spoke, she realized that quite the opposite was true. “But I didn’t even know her name until you told me.”
Though she blinked in surprise, she didn’t reply but waited for him to continue.
He did, but he kept his focus on the locket. “She worked in the household of a friend I visited frequently. I recall that she was a comely girl, but I didn’t know that things would progress so far. One night, I was there for a house party and she dragged me into an empty room, either the library or study, I can’t readily recall, because I was too far in my cups to remember much of anything. Shortly thereafter I left for Egypt, never knowing what that one night had produced.” He finally lifted his gaze to her. “What makes me feel so bad in all of this is that I should be able to tell Arabella that I loved her mother. But I didn’t. I barely knew her.”
Ada had no choice but to empathize with him. She walked over and sat down in the chair opposite him. She reached out and tentatively laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “The point is that Arabella knows both of her parents love her. I shouldn’t think it would matter if she is here because of a great love or because of an extenuating circumstance. But she has to know there is a purpose for her existence.” She swallowed hard. “I used to think there wasn’t one for me, after the failed attempts to have a child with Archie, but after I discovered the Wicked Widows’ Club, I finally rediscovered a new purpose—helping women like me, who were grieving.”
He covered her hand with his. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to extend a kindness, but do you truly feel as if you have to devote your entire life to it?” He paused. “What about us?”
She shook her head sadly. “I already told you that I didn’t plan to offer anything more permanent where that was concerned.”
His dark eyes were assessing, intent. “Even if I were to tell you I love you? That wouldn’t make any difference in your decision to remove yourself to the Manor?”
