Page 55 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter Fifteen
Two Shams, One Truth
One week later
Frank stretched hislegs out on the blanket. They were enjoying the spring air, the view of the Clyde, and an afternoon alone. Brigid had wanted a picnic on Glasgow Green, and the weather had been perfect. Sunny, warm, and a slight breeze. A barge drifted past and birds chirped in the nearby copse.
They had made plans to leave at the end of the month. Evie was anxious to see her husband, and Brigid and Frank were ready to start their life together. He still needed to come to terms with his mother and Sir Horace. Together, the next meeting with his father might be easier to bear. Perhaps even enjoyable.
“Would yer mother have liked me?” she asked, hoping to lead him into a conversation about Lady Raines. She brushed grass from her lap and pulled the pale rose muslin over her knees as she drew them to her chest.
“Yes, and not just because you make me happy.” He tucked a chestnut curl behind her ear. “She would have envied your strength and independence.”
They sat in silence and watched another barge drift by.
“Do ye miss her?” she tried again.
“You know, I visited her grave every week until I came to London,” he blurted. A rush of heat washed over his face and neck. Was he embarrassed for being a devoted son?
“There’s nothing wrong with finding comfort that way.” She turned to him and placed a hand on his cheek so she could see his eyes.
“That’s part of it, I suppose. We only had each other for so long. But I went every Sunday, hoping that would be the day I could forgive her.” He paused, the pain darkening his eyes, like frothy waves in a storm. “I loved her, will always love her. She was my mother. She sacrificed her happiness to protect me, shielded me from my father’s vicious actions as best she could. I’ll always be grateful but…”
“But ye canna grant her absolution?” Brigid asked. She swallowed, her throat thick as she blinked back the burning tears. How did one survive without family or clan? Without that sometimes smothering but always sincere, sometimes infuriating but always endearing, steady and unconditional love?
It was unimaginable.
It was something she had taken for granted.
He shook his head. “I can’t understand why she’d keep such a secret from me. When my father was alive, her fear—for both of us—would have held her tongue. But we had half a dozen years after that.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave a mirthless smile. “Years of doting on me, insisting I look like my grandfather,herfather.”
Brigid threaded her fingers through his, determined to mend this fracture in his life. “How would ye have reacted if she’d told ye? Would yer last years with her have been as sweet?”
“She should have trusted me with the truth.” Frank’s eyes locked with hers. “Worse than keeping the secret, she lied to me. You’ve seen Sir Horace Franklin. I’m his mirror image.She gave me his blasted name.”
Here was the wound, still festering. “Tell me, did ye gain confidence as soon as ye became the viscount, or did it take time?”
He laughed. “No, I was terrified at first. But I have an excellent steward, and he taught me well. It took several years to adapt to my new role.”
“I’m sure yer mother saw that.” Brigid thought about her own ma. “Sometimes a mother must do what’s best for her child in a roundabout way. If she had told ye at first, how would that have affected yer view of yer title?”
He shrugged. “I would have been resentful, maybe even feel as if I didn’t belong there.” Understanding shone in his eyes. “Or didn’t deserve it.”
“Do ye belong there? Do ye deserve it?” she asked, already knowing his answer. His mother had been a wise woman. Her confession hadn’t been to ease her conscience. It had been postponed until her son could deal with the revelation.
“I couldn’t give up Castle Raygin or the land. It’s mine, a part of me.” He grunted. “You think she was justified, don’t you?”
“Sometimes the end warrants the means. Secrets are heavy burdens, and she carried one most of her life. It must have been a terrible hardship.” Brigid rose to her knees and kissed him softly. “I think yer mother survived living with a vicious mon so that her son would have a good life. I canna judge her, for I dinna ken what I’d have done in her situation.”
His palm stroked her cheek, and he brushed her lips. “I’ll think about what you said.”
“Sometimes ye need to make amends with the past in order to embrace the future.”
“What wise man said that?” he asked, nipping her bottom lip.
She laughed. “Brigid MacNaughton.”
*
