Chapter Fifteen
The days that followed fell into a pleasant rhythm.
Mornings were often spent exploring the estate, with Lucien proudly showing Courtney the improvements he’d begun implementing, based on Julian’s suggestions.
Afternoons might bring a visit to the village, where Lucien was gradually reacquainting himself with the local inhabitants, or quiet hours spent with Ava-Marie, who delighted in Courtney’s stories and patient instruction at the pianoforte.
Each day, Courtney observed subtle changes in Lucien.
His smiles came more readily, his laughter more frequent.
He spoke more openly about his time in Ireland, sharing amusing anecdotes about village life and his struggles to master farming techniques.
When he talked about Ava, it was with a wistful honesty that acknowledged both the love they had shared and the agony of her death.
A break in the persistent Dorset rain prompted Julian to suggest a fishing expedition. The men departed with tackle and high spirits, leaving the ladies to their own devices.
Serena, pleading a headache, retired to her room, while Caitria took Ava-Marie to the kitchen gardens to harvest vegetables for dinner. Finding herself unexpectedly alone, Courtney decided to explore the estate further, drawn to the bluebell woods that lay beyond the formal gardens.
The woods were peaceful, with dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy to create patterns on the forest floor.
Though the bluebells had long since faded, the undergrowth was lush with ferns and late summer wildflowers.
Courtney followed a narrow path, enjoying the solitude and the opportunity to gather her thoughts.
Her mind kept returning to Lucien—to the growing ease between them, the moments of connection that suggested they might indeed forge something meaningful from the ruins of their past. Yet she sensed he was still holding back, still guarding some part of himself.
Guarding his battered heart. She understood loss better than anyone—she’d lost Lucien five years ago.
Hearts were delicate organs. It took a lot for them to recover.
So deep was she in contemplation that she nearly missed the small clearing ahead.
It was only when she emerged from the trees that she realized where her feet had carried her—to a secluded glade with a stone bench overlooking a small, natural pond.
The spot was achingly familiar, a private retreat where she and Lucien had often escaped during her visits to Danvers Hall.
Taking a seat on the bench, Courtney closed her eyes, memories washing over her.
Here, away from the house and its ever-watchful servants, they had shared confidences, dreams, and increasingly passionate embraces.
It was in this very spot that Lucien had first told her he loved her, nervous despite his usual confidence, his green eyes earnest as he confessed feelings that had been growing for months.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Lucien’s voice made her start. Opening her eyes, she found him standing at the edge of the clearing, fishing rod in hand, his expression unreadable.
“Julian and I finished early,” he explained, approaching the bench. “He’s headed back to the house, but I saw you walking into the woods and followed.”
“How did you know about this place?” she asked, making room for him beside her.
He sat, setting his fishing rod aside. “I discovered it a few days after arriving here,” he said. “It felt…peaceful. I’ve come here several times to think.”
“We used to come here together,” Courtney told him. “It was our special place, away from everyone else.”
He nodded, unsurprised. “I suspected as much. There’s a carving on the back of this bench—our initials within a heart. Very romantic.”
She smiled, remembering. “You did that after I accepted your proposal. I scolded you for damaging your family’s property.”
“Did I apologize?” he asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
“Eventually,” she replied, her smile widening. “After you’d finished kissing me senseless.”
He laughed, the sound echoing in the clearing. “I’m beginning to think I was quite the rogue before my memory loss.”
“Only with me,” she corrected, enjoying the ease between them. “In public, you were the model of propriety. That was why no one suspected how passionately we felt about each other.”
A comfortable silence fell between them as they gazed out at the still waters of the pond. Birds called from the trees, and the occasional splash marked a fish rising to the surface.
“I caught nothing,” Lucien admitted, nodding toward his empty fishing basket. “Apparently my skills have not survived my memory loss.”
“You were never particularly patient with fishing,” Courtney told him. “You preferred hunting—something more active.”
He nodded, considering this. “That makes sense. I’ve found I prefer being in motion to sitting still. In Ireland, I could never stay indoors for long, even in poor weather. I needed to be working the land, feeling like I was accomplishing something tangible.”
“Is that what you want now?” she asked. “A life of activity and purpose?”
He turned to look at her, his expression thoughtful.
“Yes, but not just physical labor. I want to restore this estate, to make it productive again. I want to provide security for my daughter, for my sisters—for any other children I might have, if God is kind, hopefully sons.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “For whoever shares my future.”
The implication hung between them, delicate as spun glass. Courtney’s heart quickened, but she maintained her composure.
“Do you have any feelings for me?” she pressed, needing to hear him articulate what seemed to be growing between them.
He reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers. “I didn’t like Fancot paying you attention,” he said simply. “That must mean something. I am possessive about you, and I like you.”
“And is that enough?” she asked softly.
His eyes darkened. “There’s also desire,” he said, his voice dropping to a low timbre that sent shivers through her. “When I’m with you, I feel things I haven’t felt since…since before. Different than with Ava, but no less powerful.”
Courtney’s breath caught at his admission. “I feel it too,” she confessed.
His grip on her hand tightened slightly. “But is it enough for you? I can’t promise you the same love we apparently shared before. I don’t know if I’m capable of that kind of love again.”
The question was earnest, his vulnerability evident in the tension of his jaw, the searching look in his eyes. Courtney considered her answer carefully, aware that her response could shape whatever future they might have together.
“I don’t need the same love,” she said finally. “I’m not the same woman, and you’re not the same man. What we build now will be different—but that doesn’t mean it can’t be equally meaningful, equally profound in its own way.”
“I want to be happy. I have to marry again, and I want that marriage to be happy. I think I’d be happy with you.
So, you have to really think if this is a risk you’re willing to take.
Will our marriage be happy if I can’t give you my heart and you come to resent me?
That would be the worst outcome I could imagine. ”
She took a step back. What an impossible position to be in.
To marry him now without his heart or to walk away and give up on the possibility he could love her again.
“The one thing we have always shared, and one of the reasons I fell in love with you and trusted you, was your honesty. That hasn’t changed.
” She looked up to the sky and closed her eyes.
“If I agree to marry you, I would never come to resent you because I chose this. I would live with the consequences of my choice. That is only fair.”
Relief flickered across his features. “You’re quite remarkable,” he said, pulling her back towards him, his free hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s funny, if you think about it. You’re still in love with Ava, and I’m still in love with a Lucien who doesn’t exist. We’re both in love with ghosts.”
He did a double take at her words but didn’t deny he was still in love with his dead wife. “Would you have remarried if I’d not returned?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
“I think I would have. I’ve had five lonely years to consider what my future could be. What I want out of a marriage.”
“And what does that look like?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Respect,” she said immediately. “Trust. Companionship. Shared purpose.” She paused, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“And yes, physical attraction. But love is still important. Perhaps love can grow from these foundations. It doesn’t need to exist fully formed from the beginning.
I saw it in my parents’ arranged marriage. ”
Lucien studied her face, as if memorizing each feature. “I do desire you,” he said, his voice husky. “From the moment I saw you at the opera, there’s been something…undeniable between us.”
Impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss. Unlike their exchange on the beach, this was unhurried, exploratory—a rediscovery rather than a claiming.
When they finally drew apart, both slightly breathless, the air between them felt charged with possibility.
“We should return to the house,” Lucien said reluctantly. “They’ll wonder where we’ve gone.”
“Let them wonder,” Courtney replied, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “They know why I’m here and will give us our privacy.”
He laughed softly. “Even so, Julian is still your brother and I don’t want to upset him. I’ve also promised to take Ava-Marie riding this afternoon. Her first proper lesson.”
The mention of his daughter brought reality back into focus.
Whatever grew between them would need to include Ava-Marie—a fact Courtney was increasingly comfortable with.
The child had wormed her way into Courtney’s heart with her enthusiastic questions and unguarded affection.
But would the child be a constant reminder of the woman he still loved?
“Then we should go,” she agreed, rising from the bench. “I wouldn’t want to deprive her of her lesson.”
Lucien stood as well, gathering his fishing equipment. As they made their way back through the woods, he reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
“Will you join us?” he asked. “For the riding lesson? Ava-Marie would be delighted.”
The invitation, seemingly simple, felt significant—an inclusion in this most precious part of his life.
“I’d love to,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently.
As they emerged from the woods into the afternoon sunlight, Courtney felt a lightness in her heart that had been absent for years. No, this wasn’t the same love they’d shared before. But perhaps, just perhaps, it could be something even better.
“That was a big sigh,” he said as he squeezed her hand.
“We leave for London tomorrow. The two weeks have gone by so quickly.”
“I know we are all busy packing but tonight, after dinner, can we talk privately about our situation? In the library perhaps?”
Her heart gave a lurch. This was it. She had to make her decision—tonight! She smiled bravely to show she wasn’t afraid, but her legs were already beginning to shake. “That would be lovely.”