Her Brooding Duke (The Worthington Legacy #7)

Chapter Nineteen

S hock vibrated through Trevor’s brain, numbing him for a brief moment. He couldn’t possibly have heard Louisa correctly.

“What?” He glanced from her to Adam, then back to Louisa.

“Did… did I say something wrong? Are you feeling well?” She leaned closer and touched his forehead. Her gaze narrowed from worry. “You lost the color in your face.”

“You think Adam looks… like me?”

Louisa blinked as confusion wrinkled her forehead and around her eyes. Of course she wouldn’t know he doubted her opinion, and at this point, he wasn’t about to explain why. Trevor didn’t need her pity.

“Of course he does,” she said, pulling Adam beside her as she studied his face. “He might not have your hair or eye color, but his nose slopes like yours does—” she ran her finger along the angle of Adam’s nose—“and his lips are shaped like yours.”

She smiled at Adam, making him giggle, before meeting Trevor’s hard stare. He loved watching how tender she was with the twins.

“Not only that,” she continued, “but when you both laugh, your eyes twinkle the same way—like stars glimmering in a cloudless night’s sky. And…” she scooted closer to Trevor—“when you laugh hard enough, both of you have a cute little dimple right here.” She stroked the skin on Trevor’s chin where he knew his dimple flashed on occasion.

When she moved her hand away, he slowly lifted his finger to the spot she’d just left. Louisa’s touch was so sweet. So warm. He loved the way she touched him. He had since the first day they met.

“In fact,” she said, taking Amanda and pulling her closer, “once in a while Amanda’s dimple makes its debut, but not as often as Adam’s.” She smiled wide and stroked the little girl’s chin.

Trevor remained silent as he studied the twins. Could Louisa be correct? He’d never thought the children looked anything like him. They took more after their mother. Yet now that Louisa had made him think about the similarities…

Good heavens. Now that Trevor could actually see the boy’s features, Adam bore a striking resemblance to Trey when he was a small child.

Realization pounded in Trevor’s head, along with the extra flow of blood heading to his brain. The guilt-stricken throb started in his skull and churned his stomach. Could he have been wrong all this time?

Trevor jumped to his feet and stumbled backward, rubbing his temple as guilt knocked so hard he feared it would create another hole in his head.

“Your Grace,” Louisa gasped as she lunged for him, still on her knees. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I—I need some time to myself to think. Please excuse me.” He turned away and hurried up the hill toward the manor, praying Louisa wouldn’t come after him and beg for an explanation.

Memories from when the children were born rushed through the cobwebs of his mind, and his headache grew. When the doctor had allowed Trevor into Gwen’s room that glorious day he learned he’d become a father of twins, his wife had been propped up against the headboard, holding the most beautiful children he’d ever seen. The image was as clear now as it had been that day. She gazed upon the twins with love in her eyes. His mother chatted happily, cooing over the babes, pointing out how much they looked like Trevor when he was born. Suddenly Gwen’s countenance changed and the loving emotion in her eyes disappeared. Trevor remembered wondering why she’d had such a dark, forlorn look on her face as if she’d longed for something she could never have.

Now he knew why. She had wanted Adam and Amanda to be Putney’s children.

Joy burst in Trevor’s chest as he ran into the house and straight for his study. He shoved the doors closed behind him, then hurried to the liquor tray for a glass of brandy to help relieve the pain in his head. Swallowing the amber liquid was hard because of the lump in his throat. Tears burned in his eyes that had nothing to do with the liquor.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and turned to fully gaze at himself. Shame washed over him. Guilt gnawed at his gut like a terminal disease for the way he’d treated his children when he doubted their parentage. He’d withdrawn himself from them after their mother had died, when he should have been closer to them, and comforting them for their loss.

Sinking into the nearest chair, he allowed the tears to fall. He’d gone from being the most loving father—to the worst. What kind of deranged father abandons his children in their time of need? Adam and Amanda couldn’t possibly have understood what was going on during that time, or why they couldn’t see their mother again.

He gulped down the rest of the brandy, nearly scalding his throat. He pushed the sting aside. He deserved the pain—and more for what he did to his wonderful children.

My children!

Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes and gazed toward the window. He had to get ahold of his emotions. Soon. He couldn’t allow another moment to pass by without holding his beautiful twins and telling them how much their father loved them.

One way or another, he’d make up for the time he’d spent away from them.

*

Playing outside with the children had worn them out. And worn Louisa out as well.

She escorted the twins toward the house, keeping an eye on the very door Trevor had walked through not more than a half hour ago. He hadn’t returned, and her heart ached with worry. What could she have possibly done to anger him this time?

Both Adam and Amanda held her hand as they entered the house. Louisa listened carefully for Trevor’s voice, but the closer they strolled to the stairs and she couldn’t hear his baritone voice, the lower her hopes sank.

Mrs. Smythe bustled out from one of the rooms, smiling wide as her gaze moved from Louisa to the twins. “Oh, what a lovely picture you make standing together holding hands.” She stroked her palm across each of the two-year-olds’ heads, making them giggle. “And you, Miss Louisa, I do believe you have found something you are good at.”

Chuckling, Louisa nodded. “Indeed, I have. I love caring for these children.”

“And it shows.” Mrs. Smythe winked, then turned to leave.

“Mrs. Smythe, could I have a moment with you after I put the children down for their nap?”

“Of course, my dear. I shall wait a half hour then come to the nursery.”

“I would very much appreciate it.” Louisa led the children up the stairs and toward their room, still on the lookout for Trevor—but not seeing him.

Once inside, she helped Amanda off with her dress. The little sweetheart kept yawning, her eyes drooping with fatigue.

“Miss Weesa?”

Louisa grinned at the way the girl said her name. “Yes, my dear.”

“You stay fur-evow?”

“For-ever?” Louisa pronounced slower for Amanda. “I certainly hope so. It is my wish, and I pray your father allows me to stay.”

She gave the darling girl a hug and tucked her into bed. When she turned to do the same for Adam, he’d fallen asleep on his bed—still clothed. Smiling, Louisa gently removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket before settling herself in the rocking chair between the two beds.

The smile remained on her face for a few minutes as she pondered how wonderful she’d felt since taking on this new responsibility. Indeed, she loved caring for the twins. Her memory hadn’t given her any more flashbacks, but she received the feeling that she hadn’t been married and had her own family. At least she hoped that was true. Nonetheless, she felt as if she had wanted children of her own, and being the twins’ nurse would certainly fill a void in her life.

The creaking of the floor outside the nursery door alerted Louisa of a visitor. The door cracked open and Mrs. Smythe peeked her head inside. Quietly, Louisa left the rocking chair and stepped outside the room, softly closing the door behind her.

“I thank you for meeting with me, Mrs. Smythe.” Louisa motioned to the next room—which was hers—before moving in that direction. “Shall we meet in here for a moment? I want our conversation to be private.”

“Of course, my dear.” The older woman nodded and followed.

As Louisa closed the door behind them, she took a deep breath for courage. What she was about to ask might not be right, but she just had to know.

She turned, faced the housekeeper, and smiled. “Something happened not too long ago with his lordship, and left me quite confused.”

As she explained what happened with the children, the housekeeper’s happy expression changed. Gradually, worried lines appeared in the older woman’s forehead, around her eyes, and especially around her frown.

“So you can see,” Louisa continued, “why I’m worried I did—or said—something wrong.” She shook her head. “He looked so confused, and amazed at the same time when I pointed out the similarities between him and the twins. Then to leave like that without any explanation.” She heaved a breath. “You can probably imagine my worry since I have made so many mistakes since His Grace has taken me in.”

Mrs. Smythe’s frown deepened as she shook her head. “Oh, that poor man.”

“Please,” Louisa placed her hand on the other woman’s arm. “I must know—for my own state of mind.”

“I really should not say. His lordship does not condone gossip.”

“This isn’t gossip, Mrs. Smythe. Not if it is what you know, and not if it will affect my ability to care for those adorable children.”

The housekeeper released a pent-up sigh as she twisted her apron in her fingers. “Lady Kenbridge—the duke’s deceased wife —had been carrying on with another man before and especially after she married Lord Kenbridge.”

Louisa gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. This she had not expected at all.

“Nobody knew for the longest time,” Mrs. Smythe continued, “until the nursemaid caught them. She was let go the next day, but not without saying something to his lordship first.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what exactly happened, but later that day is when Lady Kenbridge was trampled by a horse and died. Something snapped inside the duke, and he was never the same after that. Before this, he had been the most attentive father any child would want to have, but after the death of his wife, he grew distant. Rarely did he visit the nursery to spend time with those children.”

Louisa couldn’t believe any of this, not that she thought the housekeeper had made up the story, but because Louisa couldn’t understand why any woman would not stay faithful to a man like Trevor. “Oh, this is such a dreadful, heart-wrenching story, Mrs. Smythe. Do you think he suspected the children were not his?”

“Indeed I do,” the housekeeper whispered.

“That would explain why he acted so surprised at what I said earlier.”

“Yes, that does make sense.” Mrs. Smythe smiled. “But you are correct, you know. Those adorable children look a lot like the duke. He has just not been able to see it due to the circumstances surrounding his wife’s infidelity.”

“I certainly understand that.” Louisa rubbed her forehead. “That poor man, indeed. My heart just breaks for what he had to endure.”

“As does mine.” Mrs. Smythe touched Louisa’s forearm. “Now please do not tell anyone of this. That is spreading gossip, which the master abhors.”

“I shall not say a word. I thank you for confiding in me.” Louisa smiled.

She sneaked back into the nursery and to the rocking chair without disturbing the children. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily. Poor Trevor. How could any man be expected to tolerate such treatment from his wife? He must have been so confused. So heartbroken. So untrusting. She didn’t blame him if he never trusted another woman again.

A pain pierced her chest, and she gasped. Head throbbing with uncertainty, she sat up and looked toward the door. What if… Oh, dear heavens, what if he didn’t trust her? What if there was something in her past that could destroy her position here at the estate? Macgregor was certainly someone to be feared, but would he ever harm her now?

Taking deep breaths, she massaged her head, hoping to alleviate the pressure. No matter what happened after she regained her memory, she must be honest with Trevor. That was the only way she could keep him and the twins in her life.

But thinking it and doing it sounded impossible. What if she had not been an honest person in her past? Trevor would never forgive her.