The Prince's Bewildered Bride (The Blushing Brides Book 5) Read online

  “Was his mother upset we were together?”

  He chuckled. “Queen Anne wanted Edward to marry Beatriz but Edward refused.”

  When Beatriz had mentioned she and Edward had dated, I’d felt a little jealous, but hearing from an outside source that Edward had refused to consider her made me feel better.

  “What about my mother? Can you tell me more about the circumstances of her death?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, a pained expression settling over his face. “Your mother loved the sea.” He tilted his head to the side as if remembering. “Being around the water was her favorite pastime, and she regularly went on boat rides whenever she could. The day she died, she wanted to go out on our yacht, but it was being serviced, so she paid a man named Victor Thibeau to take her out. He had a thriving business, especially during the summer, and a very good reputation. Anyway, he reported that she leaned over the railing to catch a glimpse of a dolphin, and she fell over. He jumped in after her, but she disappeared, and he was not able to find her.” He paused, his eyes growing misty. “I’ve never seen a man so shaken up before. After that, no one trusted him, and it ruined his business. He packed up and moved away without telling anyone.”

  “Did the police suspect him at all?”

  “They questioned him but found no reason to hold him. Forensics didn’t find anything to contradict his story.”

  “But what about you? Did you believe him?”

  He glanced up at the ceiling for a long moment and wouldn’t meet my gaze. Something was troubling him, and he appeared very…hesitant. “Yes. I looked him in the eye, and I did not find any malice there. I believed him.”

  I sensed he was holding back though maybe it was just a matter of not wanting to express his feelings. “How old was I when it happened?”

  “You were only four, and it was very hard on you. For an entire year after that, I had to sit with you before bedtime and read to you so you wouldn’t cry yourself to sleep. It was very traumatic. Once your mother was declared legally dead, I adopted you. You were close to your Aunt Sophie, but you didn’t want to leave me and Georgina.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. That was a kind thing for you to do.”

  The corners of his lips curved up. “I loved you as my own daughter. There was no other choice.”

  I smiled at him appreciatively and then tilted my head to the side, letting out a long breath. “I don’t even remember my mother’s name. How could I have lost something that important?” My eyes watered, and I did my best to keep my voice steady. “Did she love me?” I didn’t know why I asked that question…it just seemed relevant somehow.

  His eyes softened. “Her name was Margaret, and she loved you very, very much. You were the light of her life, and when she and I married, you were the light of mine as well—you and Georgina both. I had Georgina with my first wife before she passed away. You two are the same age.”

  “I didn’t realize that, but it makes sense. We look the same age.”

  His eyes moistened. “The first moment I saw your mother, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. You look just like her.”

  He took out his wallet and showed me a photo of her. She looked young and vibrant, and it angered me an accident stripped away her life in such a horrible way.

  I swallowed. “Thank you for sharing the picture, and you’re right, I do look a lot like her.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Can I ask you something else?”

  There was sadness in his eyes, but he smiled as if trying to offset the pain. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

  “Why did you never remarry?”

  The smile slipped off his face, and he glanced down. “I had two great loves, and after they both died, I concentrated on you and your sister. Suffering two losses was more than enough to bear.”

  “That must have been hard,” I said, “but I’ll pray that one day you find someone who makes you as happy as my mother did.”

  His eyes widened, and he appeared almost horrified at the thought. “That is a kind sentiment.” He hesitated. “I hope your memory returns and you feel comfortable spending more time with me and Georgina.”

  “I hope so too. We’ll stay in contact, and at the very least, build a new relationship.”

  He seemed pleased and gave me a hug before he left. When I returned to my room, I heard rustling in my walk-in closet and found Lydia putting away my clothes.

  “Oh, you’re back.” She smiled brightly. “I just returned from the dry cleaners. How did it go with your father?” She’d laid a stack of dresses on a small table and was taking off the plastic wrap.

  “It went well, I think.” I hesitated, wondering if I should take her into my confidence. She’d said we had a rapport before, and I felt comfortable with her for the most part. I decided that if I didn’t trust anyone, I would never get very far in my quest for information. “Lydia, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “What do you know about my mother’s death?”

  She turned to hang up a dress, but not before I caught her expression. It was sympathetic and sad and…wary. She cleared her throat and glanced away. “I’m sure you would much rather get your facts from family.”

  “I just heard my father’s story, but I want to hear what you think.”

  She stood there frozen as if afraid to answer.

  “Please. You said you’d do anything after I gave you that dress.” I felt bad bringing it up, but I needed answers.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded like it was inevitable that we would come to this point in our discussion. “To be honest, I don’t know much. I’ve only heard the rumors.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “Some said your mother was carefree and enjoyed wild parties, and her life at home was not exciting enough, so she left everything to start over in the U.S. Others said she and Victor Thibeau were having an affair and he killed her when she wouldn’t leave her husband for him, while a few speculated she was mentally ill and your father hid her away in a psychiatric hospital.”

  I gaped at her. “Wow. I didn’t realize people were saying those kinds of things.”

  She straightened and put on a pensive expression. “It’s important to remember that Mr. Monroe has always been in the public eye, so it’s natural that people would come up with conspiracy theories around your mother’s death. I’m sure there’s nothing to any of those rumors.”

  “What about you? What do you believe?”

  She frowned. “I don’t really know. I was a child just like you when it happened.”

  “Well, thank you for telling me about the rumors. I appreciate you being straightforward.”

  She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome and try not to let any of this bother you. Besides, there are other things to think about such as the upcoming ball. It will be here in a week, you know.”

  “That’s right, I’d almost forgotten.”

  Maybe I should’ve been nervous about it, but I just…wasn’t. I didn’t remember dancing at any balls, but something told me it would be like riding a bicycle. Thankfully, my procedural memory—anything involving gross motor skills—had not been majorly affected though I would probably need a refresher course on dancing.

  “You met with a designer several months ago, and you have one more fitting scheduled in a few days.”

  I glanced at her sheepishly. “I wonder what it looks like.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful.” She pulled a phone out of her pocket and scrolled through until she found what she was looking for. “I attended the appointment with you and took a few pictures. Here they are.” She handed me the phone.

  I gasped. It was silver and shimmery and quite lovely, but there was no way I would go out in public in something like that. “I can’t wear this. It’s…” I covered my mouth and choked back the words I wanted to say. Revealing. Indecent. “The neckline dips down far too low. How could I have been okay with that?”
>
  “You asked for that feature specifically.”

  My face heated, and I had to glance away. “Well, I won’t wear it. I’ll have to find something else.”

  She frowned. “But it would be such a waste not to show off such a beautiful dress.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. The designer can fix the neckline before next week.”

  “Thank you so much, Lydia.” I watched her rip the plastic wrap off of a red dress and hang it up. “You know what? I can do that. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

  She frowned. “Oh, no. I couldn’t do that.”

  “Please,” I said, flashing her a coaxing smile. “Contact the designer and then go find that boyfriend of yours and have fun.”

  “Are you sure?” She seemed hesitant to leave.

  “Absolutely. I need something to do, anyway.”

  “Well, thank you. I think I’ll call your designer now.” She left with an excited smile on her face, and it felt good to know I’d made her day.

  I finished the work of taking the plastic wrap off the dresses and then hung them up. As I moved a few dresses to the right, I noticed a small safe in the back of the closet. I stooped down to get a better look. It was one of those safes that asked for a thumbprint in order to open it. Weird how I knew that. I placed my thumb where indicated and there was a clicking sound as the door unlocked. Inside, I found only one item: a hardback book. I reached in and grabbed it, and then flipped it open. It looked like a journal of some kind with my name on the inside cover.

  My interest instantly perked. This was exactly what I needed to help bring back my memories. Too bad I hadn’t seen it sooner. But why would I have put it in a safe? The answer that came to me seemed logical. There were a lot of people coming in and out of my room to clean and maintain the place, and I probably needed a location where no one would find something so personal.

  I took it and headed to my desk to sit down. Opening the first page, I read until tears pricked my eyes at the raw emotion emanating from each entry—emotion that belonged to me from another time in my life. I wrote about my desire to grow closer to God and how I wanted to believe, but never felt worthy to be called His child. I’d written about finding the small country church and how much I’d enjoyed it and hoped to return. But why didn’t I go sooner? It had taken me two months to go back there.

  The answer revealed itself in the next few pages, filled with details of the wedding and all the planning that went on. Apparently, I’d been too busy. I continued to read about my daily activities until I came to an entry that made me frown.

  I don’t believe my mother’s death was an accident. There was definitely something suspicious about the way Victor Thibeau moved out of the country so quickly after the accident, and maybe I should leave it alone…but I can’t. I have to find out what really happened, and, if that man is responsible, he will pay for what he did. He cheated me out of a relationship with the most important person in the world…the woman who bore me. I’ve shed too many tears missing her, wanting her to be in my life, but you can’t call someone back from the dead.

  So…I’d suspected Victor Thibeau after hearing the rumors. But why? John seemed convinced he’d told the truth. Why had I felt the need to press the issue?

  When my phone rang, I jumped. It was sitting on the corner of my desk, and I’d nearly forgotten it was there. I reached to answer it. “Hello.”

  “Your Highness, this is Reginald Thompson, the private investigator you hired five weeks ago.”

  I inhaled a breath. “I…hired you? For what, Mr. Thompson? Surely, you’ve heard of my most recent misfortune?” It seemed coincidental that he should call after I’d just read about my suspicions in the journal, but perhaps it was fate…or God…pushing me in the right direction.

  “Yes, you hired me. Said you needed answers about your mother. I’m sorry to hear about your memory loss. That’s very unfortunate.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  My heart pounded in my chest and picking up speed as I sucked in another breath. “What else did I say?”

  “Nothing I’m afraid—just that you needed more information.” He sighed. “Let me backtrack. I’ve already given you Mr. Thibeau’s address as you requested, but I felt the need to touch base with you again…in case you didn’t remember.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t remember contacting you, and I don’t have the address.”

  “That’s what I feared. Let me get it for you. He moved to the French Riviera, Nice specifically.” It was quiet for a few moments and then he got back on the phone and gave me the address.

  “Did I ask you to look into a possible connection with my mother’s death?”

  “No, you just asked for his location and said you wanted to speak with him personally. Is that something you would like me to look into?”

  I hesitated, not knowing what funds I had available for that, but I could always check and get back to him. “Not at this time, but if I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”

  “Very well. Oh, and one other thing. You mentioned that you didn’t want anyone to know you were looking into Mr. Thibeau, not even your husband.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You said you weren’t sure if you could trust him. You only planned on telling your aunt—no one else.”

  A cold chill snaked down my spine. I hadn’t trusted Edward back then? That didn’t bode well. “Did I say why I didn’t trust Edward?”

  He hesitated. “Not specifically. You said you’d found some things out that didn’t sit well with you, and that’s all you shared.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t know what your concerns were, but considering you don’t remember, I suggest you visit Mr. Thibeau on your own.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you contacting me again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After I hung up, an intense feeling came over me, a feeling I didn’t know how to describe except to say it seemed urgent that I find out what happened to my mother. I didn’t remember her, plus, I would have been very young at the time of her death so any memory of her would be distant. But getting to the bottom of this felt extremely important for some reason.

  Hearing that I didn’t trust Edward made me uneasy. In fact, it brought new concerns to the forefront of my mind, and I wondered how I could plan a trip to Nice without bringing him along, especially in my condition. He wouldn’t want me going off on my own…or at least, he would use my memory loss as an excuse to keep me home.

  This was getting more and more complicated.

  Chapter 8

  Edward

  A week passed, and everyone was a little on edge due to preparations for the upcoming ball. My sister, Helena, had given Annette daily lessons on royal protocol just as she said she would. She’d also hired a professional dance instructor to work with Annette though initially I’d said that was unnecessary. I had been willing to teach her on my own, but now I was glad someone else took over the job. Getting close to her like that would only make it hard to keep a clear head.

  And I needed to keep my head when it came to Annette.

  A part of me wanted to sweep the past away—forget all of it and start over. But the other part couldn’t let go of her betrayal and refused to be vulnerable to that kind of pain again. I’d been wavering back and forth, not able to make a decision. Either I forgave her and pushed forward, or we needed to have an open discussion about what happened, and I would lay out the option of divorce. I kept waiting for her memories to return, but they hadn’t, and who knew if they ever would. All of this meant I’d kept my distance from Annette all week, and I knew it had affected her.

  There was a knock on my door, pulling me out of my reverie. “Come in.”

  My sister walked in wearing a tentative expression. “Are you in a better mood?”

  “Who said I was in a bad one?” I flashed her a wry smile and motioned for her to sit on a small couch on the other side of the room
. She’d told me earlier she planned on stopping by to talk to me about something.

  “You’ve been grumpy this entire week. Whatever the issue is, you need to snap out of it. Annette needs you, and you’ve barely been around.”

  I sat next to her and allowed the air to rush out of my lungs in a painful whoosh. “My relationship with Annette is no one else’s business.”

  “I’m only trying to help. It’s obvious to everyone there’s a problem, and that doesn’t reflect well on you.”

  I didn’t tell my family about Annette’s indiscretion, so Helena couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  “Is that what you came here to talk to me about?”

  “Actually, no.” She twisted in her seat to look at me. “We have another problem.”

  “Go on.”

  “I attended a small get-together at Georgina’s house the other day.”

  “And?”

  “She mentioned you quite a few times. I’m afraid she’s going to come between you and Annette again.”

  “I never let her come between us.”

  “I know that, but Annette doesn’t remember. Don’t let history repeat itself.” She bit down on her bottom lip and twisted her hands in her lap. “Georgina has always had a crush on you, Edward. You have to realize that. Ever since we were kids—”

  “I’m aware.” I stood to my feet and walked to the window. “She wants what her sister has…that’s all it is.”

  Years ago, Georgina had a supposed “breakdown” because she couldn’t have what she wanted. Apparently, she’d told Annette that she’d loved me her entire life and couldn’t go on living if she had to see me and Annette together. Annette had a soft spot for her sister even though they had a tumultuous relationship, so she allowed Georgina to manipulate her into breaking up with me. And of course…Annette had gone right back into Leo’s waiting arms. Needless to say, I had a hard time not despising Georgina because of it.