‘You’re going to give her another chance?’ Redmoor asked, looking at Oliver with incredulity in his eyes over his glass of whisky. They were sitting in comfortable armchairs by a roaring fire, with a bevy of staff to see to their every need. Oliver wasn’t a frequent attendee at Boodle’s, where he was a member, but on an evening like tonight he appreciated the fine alcohol and friendly company.
He shook his head. ‘I just want to talk to her about the future of our child.’
He’d ridden up to London the day before to ready for his meeting with his wife. Ever since her departure he’d been in a black mood, swinging between incredulity that she would even think about fleeing again and concern about her safety. Of course he’d made discreet enquiries and made sure she was ensconced safely back at the Foundation with the indomitable Mary looking after her, but he was still worried she might decide to disappear completely again, take off into the night leaving no trace.
‘Not just about the child,’ Redmoor said. ‘You need to secure your own future, too.’
‘There isn’t much to discuss,’ Oliver said with a shrug. ‘We will lead separate lives. Our only connection will be our child.’
‘And that will make you happy?’ Redmoor asked.
Oliver sighed. He couldn’t really imagine being happy ever again. Right now his mood was black and his optimism at an all-time low. Of course he wanted a normal marriage—in fact, he wanted more than that. He wanted a union where he and his wife completely trusted one another, were open and honest and had no fear of betrayal.
No, he wanted even more than that. He loved Lucy; he’d loved her for a long time. Despite not wanting to admit it before, he knew he’d started to fall in love with his wife soon after their marriage, and that love had never diminished. Even now, even when he was so despairing of the future, he still loved her deeply. He wished they could be together, wished for nothing more than the woman he loved to be back in his arms planning their future together, but right now he couldn’t see how that could ever happen.
‘What happened?’ Redmoor asked softly.
Oliver ran a hand through his hair. He’d been over it so many times in his own mind and still couldn’t separate the facts from his own fears and worries.
‘I found her with a packed bag, after she told me she was expecting.’
‘She meant to run away again?’
‘She says not, but the evidence disagrees with her.’
‘And did you want her to stay?’
Opening his mouth to answer, Oliver paused and considered for a moment longer. He was afraid, he realised, and it was not a familiar sensation. Ever since Lucy had told him they were expecting another child he had begun to worry whether they would survive. The grief of losing one child was hard enough to bear; he wasn’t sure what he would do if they lost another.
Added to that were the feelings of betrayal. Once again Lucy had disregarded how it would affect him and set to flee. How could he ever trust her, not knowing if she would be there when he woke up every morning?
‘I love her,’ he admitted for the first time aloud. ‘But that’s not enough.’
‘It’s a good foundation,’ Redmoor said.
‘A good foundation would be trust.’
‘There can’t be any trust between you until you forgive her. Completely and utterly with no reservations. You need a fresh start, if you ever want this to work.’
Redmoor rose and patted Oliver on the shoulder, leaving him to his glass of whisky and his thoughts.
A fresh start; Oliver shook his head. Impossible. He knew what Redmoor meant—if he did want their relationship to thrive he had to let go of the residual resentment and feelings of betrayal that had developed when Lucy had left a year ago. Nothing good could be built on a foundation of mistrust. But given her recent attempt to run away he didn’t know if he could ever truly trust her.
* * *
He hadn’t slept, not a single wink, a mixture of worry about how the day would go and early morning insomnia from one too many fortifying whiskies at the club the night before. The result was a pounding head and a dry mouth, along with a foul temper to start the day off with.
He hadn’t specified a time when he’d sent the note to Lucy, but didn’t try to pretend he would be able to do anything else until he had confronted her. Instead he prowled around the house, snapping at anyone who got in his way, waiting for Lucy to show up, convinced she had fled London already. Nine o’clock came and went, then ten. He’d resolved to give her until midday and then, if she still hadn’t shown her face, he would take a trip to St Giles and escort her home. If she was still there, of course.
Just before eleven, there was a knock at the door. Oliver knew it was she as he was pacing up and down the hallway at the time and saw the dark blonde of her hair through the glass panel. Resisting the urge to go and throw open the door and pull her into his arms, he stepped into his study and took a seat, waiting for Parker to show her in. He steeled his face into an unreadable expression and forced himself to relax back into the chair. It wouldn’t do for Lucy to see how tense and miserable he was from the very beginning.
‘Lady Sedgewick, my lord,’ Parker said two minutes later as he opened the door.
It was rude not to get up and it went against every deeply ingrained instinct, but he forced himself to remain seated. Lucy was left hovering, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Sit,’ he instructed.
She did, without protest, despite it being a direct order.
‘We have things to discuss.’
‘Oliver…’ Lucy said, his name coming out in a big gush.
He held up his hand, stopping whatever words would come next. Suddenly he didn’t want to hear any apologies, he just wanted to sort out exactly what was to happen between them and then send her on her way. He knew if he faltered in the slightest he would crack. He could barely look at her without wanting to pull her into his arms and declare his love for her, but he needed to protect himself, his heart, from further heartbreak.
‘We need to decide what will happen to our child.’
‘What about us?’ Lucy asked quietly.
‘You’ve made it perfectly clear what you think of our relationship. I have no desire to trap you any longer in a marriage you do not wish to be in.’ He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the dagger of pain that shot through his heart at his next words. ‘I shall apply to Parliament to grant the divorce you’re so eager for, with certain conditions, of course. I’m sure you know it will be the talk of London, but that seems a minor issue compared to everything else.’
He looked down, unable to keep up the pretence any longer. If he looked into her eyes again he would crack, break down and show her just how much she’d hurt him. He wondered if she knew that he loved her, that he would do anything for her if only he thought she would not flee and break his heart again.
‘No,’ she gasped, springing out of her chair and rushing over to him.
Again he held up a hand, halting her progress.
‘I was wrong to try to force feelings that were never there. I understand now that you do not wish to remain married to me—you do not wish to be my wife. I will release you from that obligation.’
Divorce would involve a lot of scandal and no doubt mar the early life of their son or daughter, but he would not continue to force a relationship with someone who clearly did not want to stay. It would also involve a lot of money and a private act of Parliament. Oliver wasn’t sure, but he thought you had to prove adultery before they would grant the divorce, but as heartbreaking as it was he was willing to pay some desperate chap to pretend he’d had a relationship with Lucy.
For him, he couldn’t care less about the scandal. Divorcing Lucy would break him, his heart would never recover, but if it was what she wanted, he was willing to destroy himself to give her that.
‘Stop,’ Lucy said, finally finding her voice. ‘Just stop this.’
He looked up to see the tears streaming down her cheeks and his first instinct was to reach out and try to comfort her. His arms were already outstretched before he caught himself, but Lucy didn’t miss the gesture.
Ignoring his shaking head and stiff posture, she advanced towards him, only stopping when she was close enough to lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips. At first Oliver resisted, almost pushing her away, but Lucy was relentless, inviting him in with her warm lips until he felt something give in deep inside him.
‘Stop this,’ Lucy repeated as she pulled away. ‘Let me talk.’
‘I can’t listen…’ he said, stopping when he heard the choke in his voice.
‘I’ve hurt you, badly and that is unforgivable,’ Lucy said, perching on the arm of the chair so her body was pressed up against his. ‘But this…’ she motioned to his stiff posture and dark expression ‘…isn’t helping either of us.’
A voice inside his head screamed at him to keep pushing her away, that only further heartbreak could come of allowing her to explain, but eventually he quietened it and a small flicker of hope won through. He nodded for her to continue.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, looking into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry for so much.’
He’d never expected her to apologise quite so sincerely, but still a part of him remained suspicious. She’d apologised for running away after David was born, but that didn’t stop her from ever running away again.
‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for destroying your trust. I know it will be difficult for you to ever forgive me for what I did a year ago, but I want you to know I am truly sorry.’
‘We have more immediate concerns—’ he said.
But Lucy interrupted. ‘We don’t,’ she said. ‘Our whole relationship, our whole future, depends on your ability to forgive me. I understand if you can’t, I do…’ her voice broke and she took a deep breath to compose herself ‘…but I am asking you to try.’
‘To forgive you?’
‘For running away, for taking your son away from you, for not allowing you to grieve for our boy.’
He saw the tears in her eyes and reached out slowly to take her hand. It was an instinctive gesture, a need to comfort his wife when she was so upset.
‘I haven’t made it easy for us to reconcile,’ she continued. ‘I was so worried about losing myself, losing the freedom I’d grown used to over the last year, that I didn’t realise something much more important was at stake.’
‘More important?’
She nodded. ‘Our future. Our happiness. Together.’
He felt a surge of hope. It was the first time she had ever initiated a conversation about their future.
‘But we can’t move forward if you are always going to doubt me,’ Lucy said. ‘I know I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, but I promise you I will never leave again, not unless you want me to.’
Oliver found her eyes with his own and saw the sincerity there. She truly believed she wouldn’t ever run again, wouldn’t ever deal with adversity by fleeing from him.
‘I don’t know if I can believe that,’ he said quietly.
Lucy nodded, her face a picture of pain. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘Then perhaps we should discuss how best to move forward with our lives.’
Oliver had a sudden unwelcome image of Lucy living independently from him, waking up in her own bed, going about her life without him by her side. It was painful and uncomfortable. He wanted his wife—it was all he’d wanted this past year—and the only thing holding him back was his own inability to forgive.
‘Wait,’ he said, reaching out for her hand once again.
‘I love you,’ Lucy said so quietly he barely heard the words. ‘I want to be your wife, I want to raise this child with you, whatever challenges we might face.’
‘You love me?’
She nodded. ‘And I know you love me.’
It was hard to deny, despite him trying for the past year. He’d fallen in love with his wife and loved her all the time he’d searched for her. Oliver knew that now, but he’d never expected Lucy to love him in return. His heart soared and he wondered if this could truly work.
‘All I have to do is forgive you,’ Oliver said, more to himself than Lucy.
‘If you can.’
He thought about the year of pain, the worry, the suffering of not knowing what had become of his son. It would never go away and the grief he felt was still acute, but what was the point in holding on to the feelings of betrayal and mistrust? If he forgave Lucy, they could have a fresh start; they could build a life together with no underlying resentment or fear.
‘I forgive you,’ he said softly.
‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’
Bending down, she kissed him again and this time he pulled her on to his lap for a longer embrace.
‘And if this child is born the same way as David?’ Oliver asked.
‘We will love the child with our whole hearts and we will be stronger together,’ Lucy said.
Oliver closed his eyes, wondering if all the heartache was truly over. All he’d wanted this past year was his wife back in his arms, and of course their son. Nothing would bring David back, but at least he had Lucy.
‘What do we do now?’ Lucy asked.
‘Let’s not get a divorce,’ he said with a grin on his face. ‘Too much bother.’
She shook her head. ‘Let’s never say that word again.’
‘Perhaps we could travel back to Sedgewick Place and start making plans for the future together.’
‘I’d like that very much.’
He held her tightly on his lap, wondering if he was being foolish. Could it all really be as simple as deciding he was going to forgive her and moving on? Love meant he couldn’t bear to be apart from her, but he knew it wouldn’t necessarily be a straightforward path.
‘I’ll never hurt you again,’ she whispered as he pulled her closer. ‘I never want to cause you any more pain.’
Oliver found that he believed her.
‘I can’t ever lose you,’ he said, nuzzling into her neck.
‘You never will.’