Better to live in ignorance than live with self-inflicted suffering.
“She said that you loved your wife,” Adrian found himself saying. “She said that your marriage was a happy one. Not perfect, although few marriages are, she never doubted that it was one worth fighting for. She said that…” Adrian’s throat tightened. “She said that fighting for the one you love is what makes a marriage like yours one to envy.”
“I did love her,” Lord Delacourt agreed, sniffing through his pain. “And I know that she loved me. To some, that might have seemed absurd…” He laughed bitterly. “She was so young, so beautiful. Every day I counted my blessings, unable to believe my luck that she was my wife. Our marriage was not perfect, but Ophelia was right. It was worth fighting for, and I fought for it right until my wife took her final breath.”
“I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Delacourt,” Adrian said, taking a step back. “My presence here, it… I am sorry.”
“No,” Lord Delacourt said firmly. “I am glad that you came. They say a person dies twice, you know. Once, when they drawtheir final breath, the second when their name is spoken for the last time. That my wife’s memory might live on that little bit longer…” He sniffed again, and while Adrian could not say for sure, he was certain the man smiled through his misery. “It has been nice to be reminded that she was well loved and will not be forgotten.”
Adrian could not leave that room fast enough.
He rushed down the halls and stumbled into the foyer as his conscience attacked him. He wanted to forget about Ophelia… he was desperate to leave her behind. But was that right? Or was their love something worth fighting for, regardless of how hard it might be…
“There you are!” Rupert strolled into the foyer. “How goes Lord Delacourt?”
Adrian winced. “As well as you might expect.”
“Did he say anything?”
Adrian looked up the stairs, remembering his conversation briefly. He felt the man’s pain in his chest, and he winced again. “Nothing revealing. Nothing we might use.”
“Drats,” Rupert said. “I did a little digging among the staff while you were upstairs, and sad to say, my efforts produced few revelations. There was no doubt that Lady Delacourt was havingan affair, but none seemed to know who with, just as they had no idea how to find out.”
“Someone must know,” Adrian sighed.
“Perhaps it is for the best?” Rupert offered. “What if, and do not raise the alarm. But what if Ophelia were to keep the child as her own? She does love her. Would it be such a bad thing?”
Adrian shook his head. “The baby needs to be with her father.”
“Or someone close to that…” Rupert looked at Adrian knowingly.
Adrian scowled and looked away. The thought had crossed his mind, of course. Those few weeks that he and Ophelia had cared for Harriet, treating her as their own, had been wonderful and damn near perfect. Adrian had never desired to be a father himself, but there were times when…no, that is not an option. It cannot be one.
“Let us leave this place,” Adrian said as he strode across the foyer. “Let us forget that we were here.”
“The storm…” Rupert winced.
Adrian scoffed. “Better to be caught in the storm than stuck here.”
To that, Rupert laughed. “Truer words have never been spoken. And if I ever needed a reminder of why I have chosen bachelorhood, I only need to think of this visit.”
Adrian had no response to that.
Once, perhaps, he might have agreed. The pain that Lord Delacourt was in was surely an argument against love? But then he thought of when the man had spoken of his wife, the warmth in his voice, the belief that a smile was found on his lips. Was the pain felt now worth that brief stint of happiness? Was a moment of joy worth a life of torment? To that, Adrian had no answer, even if he suspected that he knew it…
CHAPTER 29
Adrian spent that night thinking about what he had to do.
Seeing how broken Lord Delacourt was confirmed within him that he could never allow such a thing to happen to himself. He lay in bed, their conversation playing in his mind, images of his own father fixed firmly in his subconscious because his father had acted in a way that was a little too similar to how Lord Delacourt was behaving.
He needed to stay the course. Ophelia was set to leave, and while she claimed that she would do so on her own, Adrian knew that the quickest way to get rid of her was to find Harriet’s father.
Of course, finding him was an issue, an unsolvable problem that might never be fully realized. But as Adrian lay in bed, as he thought about Lord Delacourt and what he said about his wife, another thought came to mind… an idea that might just fix all his problems at once.
When dawn came the next morning, Adrian rose and readied for the morning. He knew what he had to do, just as he knew how hard it would be. But it had to be done, a final confrontation, and hopefully the last one.
And once it is done, I can move on once and for all… I must move on.
