Brianna was once again aware of that wistfulness that had settled about the older woman and she was struck by a sudden thought.
“What of you?” she demanded, softly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Have you…”
Vanya’s arm abruptly dropped, her eyes darkening with a raw, smoldering pain before she managed to regain her smooth composure.
“I have a daughter,” she said, her voice carefully even. “She just turned nine.”
“Oh.” Brianna regarded the older woman with a frown. She was not precisely shocked that Vanya had produced a child. It was rather inevitable considering she had enjoyed a string of lovers. What she had not expected was the aching wound that the woman could not entirely disguise. “Does she live here with you?”
“No.” Vanya absently tugged on a gold locket she had pinned to the bodice of her gown. “I placed her with a nearby solicitor and his wife who were unable to have children. Naturally, I assist in paying for her upkeep and schooling. They named her Natasha.”
“Does she know that you are her mother?”
Vanya flinched, although her countenance remained set in stoic lines. Her defenses had been honed to grim perfection.
“When I had her, I thought it best she never know the truth. Even with a comfortable home and plenty of money, it would be difficult to overcome the scandal of being born a bastard.” Vanya sucked in a shaky breath as Brianna reached out to lightly touch her arm. “She has always believed she is the true daughter of her parents.”
“That is no doubt for the best,” Brianna said, her words ringing false even to her own ears. Something had obviously died within Vanya at the loss of her daughter. Something precious.
Realizing that she had not managed to fool Brianna with her pretense of indifference, Vanya allowed her stiff expression to soften to one of boundless yearning.
“For her, I believe it has been for the best. For me…it has been difficult. To have her so close and yet never be able to truly know her as my daughter. At least I am allowed to see her from a distance, and her parents are good to send me small tokens that make me feel a part of her life.” With awkward motions, Vanya unpinned the locket from her bodice and flipped it open to reveal the tiny portrait of a pretty girl with dark hair and laughing brown eyes. “This is Natasha.”
“She is beautiful.” Leaning forward for a better look, Brianna froze. The portrait was a miniature, but the masterstrokes clearly revealed the strong line of the girl’s jaw and the unmistakably sweet curve of her lips. Features that were easily recognizable. “Oh.”
Vanya’s lips twisted at the color that flooded Brianna’s face. “Yes, Richard is her father.”
“Does he know?”
“No.” Vanya clenched the locket tightly in her hand. “When I discovered I was with child, he was traveling back to England. At the time, I thought he would never return.”
Brianna recalled Richard’s wry confession that he occasionally fled Russia for his brother’s estates in England and her heart twisted with a wrenching sense of pity.
Whatever pain Vanya had endured in giving up her daughter, it was nothing to Richard’s loss. He had never been allowed to know he had a precious daughter. Never given the opportunity to watch her from a distance or to carry her picture in a tiny locket.
Surely it was a betrayal for a gentleman who was so desperately alone?
Brianna gave a slow shake of her head. “Why have you never told him?”
With short, restless steps, Vanya paced toward the window, her expression tight with pain.
“Because he would never forgive me for having given her up,” she said, her voice laced with ancient regret.
Brianna swallowed a gasp.
“I do not claim to know Mr. Monroe well, but he loves you and there is nothing that love cannot forgive,” she said softly.
“Perhaps if I had been honest when he first returned.” Vanya gave a sharp shake of her head. “But by the time I realized that he…well, it is too late.”
Brianna was struck by a sudden thought. “That is why you have refused to wed him all these years? You feared he might discover the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Vanya, it is not too late…”