Page 75 of The Mistletoe Countess
The idea settled through her. Frederick had a daughter. “Do you see her?”
“Regularly.”
Did she look like her mother or Frederick? Oh, a little girl with his eyes would be adorable. “Does she know you are her father?”
“I cannot claim her as such, Grace. It’s not the way things are done.”
Grace didn’t like that at all. She knew a life without a mother’s presence, but to be raised bereft of both motherandfather? She stood from the bench and paced a few steps. “We should include a nursery in our improvements.”
“That’s a bit premature—”
“For Lily.” She turned back to him as he stood. “Surely we can bring her inside the house so she’ll have people nearby to love her. You may still claim her as your ward, but no child should bear the absence of loving parents, if possible.”
“What about when our children come?”
What a ridiculous question. “Then she’ll have playmates.”
“You wouldn’t resent this reminder of my past?” He shook his head, staring at her, and a weak laugh erupted as he shook his head. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
She took his hands back into hers, attempting to wrap her mind around his hesitation. “We all live with reminders of the past, dear Frederick. We cannot escape them. There are plenty of regretful ones, I’m sure, so why not celebrate the sweet ones? Lily had no hand in your choices. She certainly shouldn’t bear the shame in your regret.”
“Grace.” He took her face in his hands, thumbs trailing over her cheekbones. “Can you truly be this…this generous?”
His kiss caught her by surprise, slow and deliciously tantalizing. She hummed a sigh and pulled back to see his face. Dark eyes swam with a glossy luster. He’d laid his wounds bare before her, his past raw and open.
But no matter how intimidating his former life might be, she would embrace it all. All of him. The bravest of heroines love with eyes open.
“You don’t need to grieve for love anymore, Frederick. I will love you.” She ran a finger down his cheek and kissed him, her smile stretching with possibilities. “And I will be the best sleuthing partner you could ever imagine.”
He blinked at her. “Sleuthing partner?”
“To find out what happened to your brother.”
“Grace.”
“What if we can do much better than Dickens’s Christmas ghosts?”
His mouth fell agape and he squinted. “I don’t—”
“They only changed the present and future, but what if we can reach back into the past and set things right?”
“What?”
“Your name has been maligned for years, and rumors have been left to run rampant. If we can prove what happened to your brother, perhaps your mother and others she’s influenced will see you in a different light. As the hero you arenow.”She leaned close, hoping her enthusiasm softened his rather shocked expression. “And I’ve always wanted to solve a real mystery.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The last time Frederick had visited the east wing, he’d found his brother on the floor in his office, his face frozen in some retracted and haunting distortion, as if he couldn’t catch his breath.
Frederick cringed from the memory.
Why hadn’t he considered something underhanded at the time?
Because his mother had insisted his brother had struggled with a weak heart. Because he’d inherited a failing estate. Because he’d stepped into the place of earl—shoes he’d never intended to fill—and suddenly he needed to prove he could succeed at any cost.
Scandal-free.
And somehow he’d missed the clues that his brother had died alone in a way very similar to their father.
