“If you say so.”
Adrian finished his brandy purposefully, long and deep sips. As he did, he ignored the way that Rupert looked at him. His friend, always quick to make a joke, always mocking, held him in concern as he had never seen before.
He had come to see Rupert, knowing deep down that he needed to talk, perhaps even hoping that he might find an answer to his problems. But he was too stubborn, too filled with self-loathing, and too aware that such a change, which would be needed for him to accept his feelings, was not so easy to accept.
His feelings for Ophelia were confused, and until Adrian was finally ready to admit to them, confusion was how they would stay. And the only way that Adrian could suffer such turmoil was by telling himself once again that by rejecting Ophelia and his feelings, both, he was doing her a favor.
Such lies, they wore thin quickly, and became all the harder to believe because of it.
CHAPTER 19
“Oh, she is cute,” Ophelia’s father said as he nursed Harriet in his arms. “That smile…” A shake of the head as he gazed at her lovingly. “She best be careful, or she might make even the sun jealous.” He chuckled. “How she glows.”
Ophelia watched her father nurse baby Harriet with mixed emotions.
On the one hand, it was nice to see him taking such an interest in Harriet, caring not who the child belonged to, his only concern being how adorable she was and how much she meant to Ophelia. He looked down at her with love in his eyes, one that his smile confirmed, and when he laughed… it made Ophelia’s heart swell.
Ironically enough, as it swelled, her heart also cracked down the middle.
While her father had never said as much, she knew that he wanted a grandchild of his own. When Ophelia was forced to leave thetonin shame, she had been aware of the pain this had caused her father, knowing that he would never see his daughter happy, and that she would never have a family.
Of course, he did not voice this to her, but she knew it was there… she knew such things, because she felt it too.
Harriet was not her child, nor would she ever be. She was thus not her father’s grandchild, and a day would surely come soon when Harriet would go to her real father, and a day would come shortly after that when she would be little more than a distant memory.
Ophelia loved to see her father so taken by Harriet, but it was a double-edged sword. Perhaps it would have been better never to have introduced them?
Harriet giggled suddenly at a face that her father made, and he beamed.
“I was just about to say…” He shook his head to himself. “She has your laugh.”
Ophelia winced as if struck. They both seemed to recognize the situation, but neither was willing to voice it or try to stop it.
“Here, let me.” Ophelia reached out and took Harriet from her father. She then brought the baby into her chest, and her heartlifted as the baby gently nuzzled into her in a way that told her how safe she felt.
Her father watched her for a moment, his smile enigmatic.
“What?” Ophelia asked him.
He sighed. “Just thinking about how naturally you have taken to the role of motherhood, is all. It suits you.”
“Oh…” She dismissed it with a shake of her head. “I am just doing my best until we find Harriet’s father. Little more than a nurse would.”
“Maybe,” her father said, not sounding at all as if he believed it.
Ophelia and her father sat in the back garden of her father’s home. Her visit to see him had been spontaneous, but she had known too that her father would not mind. Now that she was able to see him whenever she wished, she realized how much she had missed his company the past three years, just as he missed hers.
As for why the visit was spontaneous? That spoke to the other problem that was sitting fresh on Ophelia’s mind…
“So, need I ask,” her father began as if he could read her mind. “How goes your marriage?”
“It is fine,” Ophelia said a little too quickly, focusing on Harriet so her father could not see her face because he would surely recognize the lie.
“Fine, is it?” he said. “A rather benign way to describe a new marriage, I would think. In my experience, one would either say it was wondrous and transcendent, or the worst of things.” He laughed. “Depending, of course, on the circumstance of its arrangement.”
“It is not the worst of things,” she said with a chuckle of her own. “Adrian is many things, but he is not evil, nor is he cruel like some people seem to think. This marriage is new for him, as it is for me, and he is doing his best.”
“He is doing fine, you mean,” her father said.
