Chapter Seventeen

 

Andrew peered out the window of his study and watched as a gardener attended to the rose bushes, though there was little remaining to which to attend. Now, with it being late September, the autumn weather had made an early start and the roses were all but gone; only a few skirmished against the cold, but it was clear they were losing the battle as their petals drooped more each day. Soon, the leaves and grass would give up their dying breath and yield to the cold and frost that was to come, but for now, much like Andrew, they held on for hope. Hope that another day of life and living remained.

Three weeks had passed since Andrew and Lucy has visited Lord Lunton and his wife, and they had not shared in another kiss since then. Instead, they had continued with Andrew’s plan to aid Lucy in restoring her memory by spending time at her parents’ house of Foxglove Estate on more than one occasion as well as taking the same strolls they had taken long ago. However, much to his sorrow, Lucy had not had another recollection since that day in the gardens of Chudleigh Hill when she remembered him tearing his sleeve on the rose bush from which the gardener was now clipping the last rose of the season.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Andrew realized that his plan, which he had thought at first as ingenious, was not giving the results he had hoped. He glanced down at the picnic basket the cook had prepared for him. Though Andrew had kept up the pretense of his old self, he was finding it much more difficult. It pained him to be that man, and now, just as before, he wished to prove to Lucy the man he truly was. A man who was stern, yet also kind. A man who was devoted to her and wished to spend every moment he could with the woman he loved. He had taken small steps over the past week, so as to not startle her, and today, he planned to tell her what was on his heart.

Before, during their round of courting, it had taken much longer for him to change, but he did not wish to wait as long this time. In his opinion, two months’ time should have been more than enough time for his change to occur, for now, he wished for her to experience the real Andrew Balfour, the man with whom she had fallen in love and subsequently married.

He glanced at the clock. It was two in the afternoon, and he expected Lucy to walk into the room any minute. A smile crossed his lips as he knew she would purposefully be late; it was her way to anger him, and though in the past it would have, now he found he adored her defiant behavior.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and he turned to the doorway expectantly. However, it was not Lucy who entered, but rather Hannah.

“Your Grace,” she said with a light curtsy, “I have been sent to relay a message.”

“And what is it?” Andrew asked, expecting her to send her mistress’s regrets.

However, Hannah did not do so. “Her Grace has said that she is shocked that she must be made to wait by the gate for your arrival some fifteen minutes now. She further states that, if you cannot be on time, then perhaps you should consider buying a pocket watch.” A smile played on her lips but was gone before Andrew had time to consider it. The woman was not one to be disrespectful. “Do you have a reply?”

Andrew threw his head back and laughed, the tension and worry from minutes before dissipating. “Thank you,” he replied. “There is no need to return a reply, for I shall do so myself.” With that, he picked up the hamper and the folded blanket he had placed on the back of the chair, walked past Hannah, and made his way to the iron gate at the back of the gardens.

As he approached, he slowed his steps. Lucy stood beside the gate, her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a blue dress with yellow and white flowers and a white shawl around her shoulders. Her hat was covered in beige linen with a yellow sash, the ends hanging down to flow behind her, and a fluffy white feather fluttered lightly in the slight breeze. For a moment, Andrew wondered if anything in the world was more beautiful than she, but in his heart, he knew there was not.

“Andrew,” she said firmly, “as a Duke, you do a poor job keeping a schedule. Making a lady wait? A majority of the ton would consider it rude to say the least.” Although her words had bite to them, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Andrew knew, amusedly, that she was nowhere near as upset as she pretended to be.

He gave her a deep bow. “I am sorry, Your Grace,” he said smoothly. “I only hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She sniffed with feigned disdain. “Very well. I suppose I will…this time.”

They both laughed, and Andrew’s heart soared at the melodious sound of her laughter. Once she was through the gate, he latched it once again and then offered her his arm. Though he knew she would reject it, he offered it all the same.

She studied his arm for several moments as he stood patiently waiting for her rejection. However, this time she said, “Typically I would refuse the arm of a man who has kept me waiting, but it is too nice of a day to spoil it even more.” And with that, she placed her hand on his arm. “Shall we?”

Andrew felt a twinge of hope course through him. Much like the roses in the garden, there was still hope for tomorrow.

They made their way up the hill and Andrew found himself smiling. This hill represented the struggles they were both facing, more so Lucy than he, but as long as they could continue this journey together, they would emerge at the top with great success.

When they reached the crest of the hill, he set the hamper on the ground and unfolded the blanket. “Your Grace,” he said as he reached out his hand to help her sit. Once she had spread her skirts around her, he placed the hamper between them and began unpacking the bread and cheese, as well as a bottle of Merlot with two wine glasses.

“Andrew,” Lucy said, “I must say, over the last week I have seen a side of you I find quite pleasant.”

“Oh?” he asked in an amused tone.

“You do not seem as sharp with your words, and I feel as if you listen to me when I speak.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I did not deign to listen to you before?”

“No, you did not,” she said admonishingly. “I could have spoken to the walls and received more response.”

This made him chuckle. “Well, contrary to what Lord Lunton believes, I find conversations with women such as yourself highly engaging.”

It was Lucy’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Women?”

He raised a hand as if to defend himself. “Just one woman,” he replied. “Would you care to eat?”

“No, not just yet, thank you,” she said as she flicked at a piece of grass on her skirts. “So, you do not wish to see me doing embroidery for hours on end while you conduct business?”

He let out a laugh and almost spilled the wine he was pouring. “Not at all. I would wish you to continue doing what makes you happy.”

She seemed to relax at his statement, and it only made him smile even more. “Is that so?” she asked.

“Indeed. For if you are happy, then I am happy.” He swished his wine lightly in the glass. “Lucy, I understand that you are still adjusting to your new life, but are you happy?”

She gazed down at the ground for a moment. “Before I reply, I must make a request first. I do not wish you to be angry with me.”

He straightened and replied, “I give you my word as a Duke and a gentleman that I will not be angry.”

“Have you changed your demeanor simply to win me over?” she asked quietly. “I do not wish to be played for a fool.”

“No, Lucy,” Andrew replied just as softly. “You have warmed me so over the past few weeks, and I find it much easier to be comfortable and relaxed in your presence.”

She sighed, and Andrew’s heart clinched. Was she waiting to tell him she did not feel the same? Would this be the time she would tell him she cared nothing for him, that she still despised him? However, she did not do so. Instead she said, “I must admit I feel the same. I have begun to enjoy our time together, and although I do not remember what our life was like before, I do know that I find our time together quite satisfying.”

Hope rushed through Andrew in waves. How he wished to tell her how much he loved her, but it was much too soon to declare such words; her eyes said as much. However, when the time came, he wanted her to declare her love on her terms and of her own free will, and not under some obligation she believed she owed him.

“I believe we enjoy many of the same things,” he said conversationally. “I find myself wanting to learn more about you, your desires and your dreams.”

She tilted her head and the sun caught her beauty, her eyes sparkling with its rays. Then she leaned over and pressed her lips to his, their shared kiss soft yet full of passion.

“I wish to remember my dreams,” she whispered, “and I will help you realize yours.” Then she smiled and returned to her sitting position.

As they talked, both gazing over the vast valley before them, the grass less green and the wildflowers now gone, hope once again washed over Andrew. It was the hope that, one day, his wife would love him once again as she once had, as much as he loved her. Hope that their friendship and relationship would continue to grow and reach new heights of which he could only dream.

At one point, he glanced down and realized that his hand held hers, clasped together as a reminder that, as long as they were one, there was always hope, and that her dream of remembering would one day come true. And he would do what he could to help make that happen.