Page 19 of His Unforgettable Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #4)

Nineteen

Indeed, one of the essential characteristics of courtesy is good nature, and an inclination always to look

at the bright side of things .

“J uliet, you’re spilling tea.” Livy hopped up from her chair at the kitchen table and stepped back a pace.

Unaware of her terrible aim and caught daydreaming about kissing Gray three days ago, Juliet jerked her hand to raise the spout. Then she spun and deposited the china pot onto the sideboard before grabbing a nearby towel and sopping up the mess. “I’m sorry, and I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. She had too much on her mind, but now wasn’t the time to let her thoughts spin in all directions. Livy was teaching her to pour afternoon tea properly, and it was disrespectful not to pay attention.

“It’s fine, dearie, and you didn’t spill much.” Livy carried her matching cup and saucer to the sideboard. “Sometimes I dribble tea down the front of my dress. It’s a nuisance.”

Juliet’s heart warmed at Livy’s attempt to minimize the mistake. She wiped her hands on her skirt as she turned around. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

The sisters had spoken with the constable yesterday and told him everything they could. Then he came to the house as she’d expected. They all met in the drawing room, including Cy and Icala. With Gray at her side, she’d described Ruby’s appearance and relayed everything else memorable.

The incident wasn’t as horrific as she’d expected or feared.

“No harm done, and we’ll have another lesson tomorrow.” Livy removed her deep rose cape from the back of a chair and tossed it over her shoulders. “I’m off to check the men’s progress this fine afternoon. They’re finally painting the walls a lovely pink today.”

They could have done so sooner if someone hadn’t taken forever to select the color. “An exciting step.”

A new shipment of cups with a dozen broken handles had arrived, though everything else in the delivery remained intact. However, there wasn’t time to order replacements, with the tearoom’s opening less than a week away. The recently installed stove in the carriage house failed to produce heat, and a window broke when the head of a hammer flew through the pane.

The celebration would arrive before she knew it, and she hadn’t determined what to wear. To purchase a ready-made dress was frivolous, and she’d have to wear one of Tabitha’s castoffs. But it would have been a pleasure to wear something special to the party. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

Livy hastily donned her hat. “It’s all just so lovely, so lovely. So much more than I ever imagined. A dream come true, really.”

When the door closed behind the sweet sister, Juliet slid into the nearest chair and slumped. With every passing day that the tearoom neared completion, Juliet worried that might be the day Ruby returned and set the place on fire, destroying the weeks of labor and the sisters’ dreams. With every passing day that the sisters continued to make Juliet a part of their family and showered her with their kindness, she only felt guiltier for the danger creeping closer to their doorstep.

“Oh, God.” She lifted her prayer heavenward, hoping it wouldn’t get stuck this time. “I don’t know what to do.”

Would it be better for everyone, even her, if she snuck away before it was too late?

A loud knocking resounded on the front door. “Please, don’t let it be Ruby again.”

Juliet stood, tugged down her cuffs, gave her skirt a good fluff, and hurried to answer the call. She summoned her best ladylike smile and swung the door open.

Two men she failed to recognize stood before her. “May I help you, gentlemen?”

The taller man wore a brimless black hat and an open smile. The other fellow gripped a shiny ebony walking cane in one hand and a satchel in the other. A gray, moody sky dribbled rain over their shoulders.

“And you are…?” The first fellow asked.

“Juliet Dash. And your name, sir?”

“Alexander Sherwood.”

Holy Moses. She reached for the door to hold herself steady. Gray was Alex Sherwood, wasn’t he? They all believed it true—or perhaps wanted to believe it. He was building a new life here, and now the walls threatened to crumble if this stranger was who he claimed.

But why would this fellow lie?

“This is my business associate, Mr. Nashua.” Alex motioned at his companion.

Juliet nodded to the man, yet he remained stoic. Now that she thought about it, neither fellow had doffed their hats for her. How ungentlemanly.

“May I speak with one or both of my aunts?”

“Of course. Tabitha is next door visiting a neighbor, and Livy is in the tearoom. Would you care to step inside?”

“Yes, and I have no preference on which one you collect. One aunt is as good as the other, but please hurry. I have a ship to catch.”

Juliet retreated a pace as the men entered the foyer. They chose to keep their hats and walking stick in their possession as she led them to the drawing room. Why had the supposed nephew not commented on the carriage house renovations or mentioned his regrets for not lending his carpentry skills?

Had he never intended to assist with the project?

If so, how rude. Gray made a better and nicer Alex. Maybe they should keep him and get rid of this fellow. If only they could.

The men had barely settled into side-by-side chairs, and she was about to offer them tea when the front door creaked and opened again. Was the wind to blame? “Excuse me, please.”

Juliet retraced her steps to the foyer, where Tabitha was hanging her overcoat on the hook. “You’ll never believe who came to the door, and he’s in the drawing room.”

“Then you certainly should tell me.”

“He says he’s the real Alex Sherwood.”

Slowly, Tabitha turned, her bluish-green eyes wide and full of surprise. “Oh my stars.”

“Uh-huh. Another man is with him. Should I fetch Livy or offer them refreshments first?”

“I’m slightly in shock.” Tabitha tapped a finger against her pursed lips as if deep in thought, then she gazed into the wall mirror and tamed her windblown hair with her hands. “Please collect Livy, and we’ll proceed from there.”

“Absolutely.” Juliet didn’t bother to run upstairs for her shawl. Instead, she headed directly outside toward the tearoom and let the cold, misty air nip at her skin, which was good because she was suddenly hot and riled.

Poor Gray. How would he feel when he learned the identity foisted upon him might belong to someone else? Of course, that possibility had always existed, but over the past week or two, they’d all seemed to accept that’s who he was. Undoubtedly, the discovery would upset him. The news would fluster everyone.

Would Tabitha and Livy kick him into the street since he wasn’t their flesh and blood? Of course not. They’d allowed her and Cy to reside under their roof. Then again, Gray might think living elsewhere would be best.

Juliet’s heart beat furiously as she hurried up the cobblestone, raindrops tumbling. Bells darted out of a shrub, mewing and begging Juliet to scoop up the furry creature, which she did. The cat purred with pleasure, and the affection was mutual.

The tearoom door flew open, and out darted Livy. Her face was alarmed, and her hands fluttered as she dashed up the pathway, her heels tapping on the stones. The pheasant feather in her hat quivered. “Oh my. Oh my. Oh my.”

Juliet rushed toward her, ignoring the rule that a lady never runs. “Whatever is wrong?”

Livy halted and cupped her hand over her mouth, her eyes tearing. “Mr. Kelly tumbled from the ladder. It’s the most frightful thing. The way his arm is bent, I fear…it’s broken. He prefers I don’t make a fuss, but I am fussy to the bone.”

Indeed, she was.

“I am off to collect Doctor Pooley and pray he’s back in town.” Livy bustled forward.

Juliet stopped her. “Let me go on your behalf. You stay here…with him. Having you near will offer comfort.” Juliet glanced over her shoulder then turned back around. With Livy already in a fret, should she mention what transpired in the house? Maybe only share a snippet. “Your sister would like you to join her in the drawing room when you can. Guests have arrived.”

“They’ll have to wait. Cy comes first. And bless your blue eyes, Juliet, for going after the doctor.” Livy ran her finger over the beaded pattern that trimmed her cape at the neckline. “Please hippity hop. I hate to see him in pain.”

“Of course you do.”

Livy nodded and bustled back toward her man. Another round of “Oh my. Oh my” accompanied her steps.

Juliet lowered Bells to the ground. As she straightened, Tabitha exited the kitchen then opened an umbrella. Why had she left her guests so quickly? In a few steps, they met on the cobblestone. “I told Livy you wanted her, but Cy took a tumble, and she’s worried about him. I’m off to fetch Doctor Pooley.”

Tabitha released an exceedingly large sigh for a lady. “Maybe it’s true that trouble comes in bunches like grapes.”

No fooling. “I’ve never heard the expression, but I agree.”

“After answering several of my questions, I do believe the young man claiming to be our nephew is truly who he says he is.”

“I see.” Juliet’s chest tightened. For many reasons, she wanted Gray to be the sisters’ nephew. She couldn’t imagine a better family for him or how he’d feel when he learned the truth. He would be utterly confused again. And maybe utterly empty.

“He informed me that his father sent a letter insisting he return to England posthaste. Alex has already left to catch the next steamer bound for home. Oddly, he also requested money from me for the trip, but I find it hard to believe his father wouldn’t have supplied the necessary funds for his travels.”

“Huh. I mean, that is puzzling indeed.” What a dunderhead. The fellow hadn’t seen his aunts in ages, came begging for money, and left again when he didn’t receive his handout. Or maybe Tabitha gave her nephew what he sought. As much as Juliet wanted to learn the answer, it would be impolite to inquire, so she swallowed her nosy question.

Tabitha handed Juliet the umbrella, and they crowded underneath it, shoulder to shoulder. “Take this, and please run your errand before my sister ties herself into a tizzy, but perhaps it’s already too late.”

Juliet shrugged, not about to say anything negative regarding Livy. “I will.”

“Unless you strongly disagree, I’d like you present when we tell Gray the truth.”

She was honored to be included in the conversation. As Gray’s friend, she wanted to be at his side for the announcement. “I’d like that as well.”

“I thought you might.”

As she spun to leave, Gray’s image slid into her thoughts. If he wasn’t the sisters’ nephew, who was he?

* * *

A rural setting. A pond, horses, and a spreading oak tree. Gray tightened his grip on the paintbrush and tried to capture the full memory before it disappeared.

His recollection was like before, only broader, with an auburn-haired girl reclining in the grass after tumbling from her horse. A faceless boy kneeled at her side and held her hand. Instead of rushing to offer aid, Gray hesitated.

Why was he callous toward her, and why did the same specific memory resurrect again while countless others remained hidden? The temptation to fling the brush across the tearoom beckoned. Instead, he drew a deep breath.

Cy’s fall earlier had undoubtedly triggered the recollection. But Gray had also fallen in the woods behind the house before Juliet found him. Was that occurrence not more significant than the one from his youth?

“It’s time to baste the salmon.” Icala wiped his hands on a rag near the door, drawing Gray from his thoughts. A patch of pink paint stained the cook’s white sleeve, and another splotch graced his chin. “I’ll be back. Then we’ll compare which of us did better on our tasks.”

Gray raised his brow and tried to focus on the present instead of the past. “Has your nature always leaned toward the competitive side?”

“Has yours?”

“I’m going to say yes because a man with amnesia gets to make up whatever he wants about his past.”

“True enough.” Icala chuckled.

“When you go inside, check Cy’s condition.”

“Planned on it.”

After Cy’s fall, they’d helped him to the sitting room and settled him in his bed. He had insisted he would survive and needed nobody to fuss over him. But Gray had waited until the physician arrived before returning to the tearoom.

Icala cocked his head to the side, studying the wall. “I think we need to add a second coat of paint.”

“I thought the same thing, then changed my mind.”

Icala reached for his coat on the floor near the door. “My father was full of advice. For example, he said to follow my instincts and not to second-guess myself, a rule I’ve tried to follow ever since. Usually, I have no regrets.”

Regrets—what a heavy word. Gray could not say how he knew but sensed he had a few. Perhaps many. “Any other wise advice from your father?”

Icala finished tugging on his long leather overcoat and then tapped his eye patch. “As a child, my brother and I played swords with sticks. Somehow, I accidentally poked myself hard enough in my eye that I lost my vision.”

A painful tragedy, yet his friend had notably risen above his affliction. Had he always accepted the situation or slowly adapted to his new limitations and reality? “No doubt, that was an adjustment for you.”

“My father claimed mistakes are merely part of living. I’ve never forgotten those words.” With a nod, Icala exited, the door banging behind him.

What mistakes had Gray made over his lifetime? Too many to count?

With every passing day, Gray pondered whether it was time to quit dwelling on his restricted memory and stop trying to figure everything out. The truth was his memories might never return. Instead, should he move forward with this new life and strive to become a better man than he was in his nebulous past?

He had held himself back from establishing roots to a degree because he expected to leave eventually. But maybe his lot in life was as a carpenter with the sisters in Everly.

Could such a future also include Juliet? Was it time to stop holding himself back from her and start pursuing her more seriously?

After their kiss, she had rarely left his mind. Thoughts of her filled him whether he was awake or asleep, whether working or resting, whether with her or not with her.

He supposed she had consumed much of his thoughts even before the kiss. But something about how she responded to him had sealed their connection, made it permanent, and confirmed that she was the perfect person for him.

Of course, he still struggled with the need to kiss her again. There were intense moments around her when the temptation was entirely too strong.

He stretched and glanced around the nearly completed room as a strong sense of accomplishment settled inside him. Hopefully, despite Cy’s injury, they would finish in time. But now they needed to paint the walls twice.

With no time to waste, Gray bent to dip his brush into the paint, the strong linseed oil fumes rising around him. With a swipe of his hand, he added another streak of pink. Only one-third of his wall remained unpainted with the first layer.

Juliet backed through the door, carrying a plate with bread, cheese, and orange slices. Today, she wore her hair high in a bun, almost like a crown. “I’m delivering a treat, and Tabitha will join us momentarily.”

“Thank you, and I shall finish this last section of painting if you do not mind.”

“Go right ahead.” She balanced the nourishment onto the seat of a nearby weathered chair before straightening. “Unfortunately, I don’t have an update on Cy yet.”

“Icala left to check on him, too.” Gray changed his strokes from horizontal to vertical. “I had a memory after Cy fell off the ladder.”

“Good news, indeed. The memory part, I mean. I hope it was a pleasant one.”

“Not exactly, and it is still hazy around the edges, though less so than before.”

She helped herself to a piece of yellow cheese. “Did the recollection confirm your identity?”

He added more paint to his brush, ensured nothing dripped, and straightened. “No, but I am accepting that I am Alex Sherwood. After a slow start, I now believe carpentry is my calling and I harbor a kinship for Tabitha and Livy. If not their nephew, where is my counterpart?”

Her face fell, but then she regained her composure. Or had he misread her reaction? “That’s something Tabitha and I want to discuss with you.”

He cocked a brow at her. “What do you mean?”

“I prefer to wait until she comes before I say more.” She glanced at the door, which opened as if she willed it to obey her wish.

How odd. Juliet generally spoke freely in his company.

Tabitha whisked into the tearoom, the sheen of raindrops on her overcoat. “Doctor Pooley confirmed Cy has a broken forearm. Fortunately, his pain is not severe, and Livy has calmed herself but wishes to remain by his side. Therefore, we’ll hold this discussion without her.”

Intrigued, Gray lowered his brush to a rag, ready to focus on whatever was about to unfold. “Please continue.”

Juliet drew to his side, her face wreathed with concern. “Most likely, you’ll find this news unsettling.”

“Just tell me.”

“Of course.” Tabitha slowly removed her coat. “A young man came to the door this afternoon. He presented himself as Alex Sherwood. After answering multiple questions, I believe he is our nephew.”

Gray felt the blood draining from his face. The Alex Sherwood had come to the house. Their nephew. The real nephew.

“I’m sorry, Gray.” Juliet reached out a hand to comfort him but then dropped it. “I know that might be disappointing, perhaps even frustrating.”

It was both of those emotions and more.

“We completely understand if you’re overwhelmed. Please know”—Juliet’s voice broke—“that we all care about you and your welfare.”

“Indeed we do.” Tabitha stepped closer, her forehead puckered and her eyes filled with kindness and concern. “Our nephew is sailing back to England soon and has already left for Victoria to catch a steamer. You are welcome to stay under our roof for as long as you choose, Gray.”

Did he want to remain in Everly? Perhaps for now. If he left, where would he go? It would take time to determine his next steps, wherever they led.

“Are you fine, Gray?” Juliet asked.

“Caught off guard, I admit.”

He swallowed hard, trying to digest the revelation. He had allowed himself to believe this might be where he belonged, that he would forge ahead with a new life and forget the old. Maybe he had not entirely convinced himself he was Alex, but he had decided to live that role.

Suddenly, he was more lost than ever before. Now what?