The Earl's Snow-Kissed Proposal

Rosa in her mother’s arms, the three-year-old’s chubby legs wrapped round her mum’s waist. The daughter her parents ha

d always craved—blood of their blood. Her dad standing behind them. A tableau of the perfect family; no need nor space for Etta.

Her adoptive mother’s voice. ‘You can come back, Etta, and we’ll do our duty by you. But not the baby. Give it up for adoption.’

‘I can’t do that.’ The taste of tears as they rolled down her cheeks, her hands outstretched in plea. ‘I know I’ve done wrong, messed up big-time with Tommy, but I can’t do that.’

There had been no relenting on her parents’ faces.

‘You have to. That baby has Tommy’s genes—how can you want to keep it?’

Black knowledge had dawned—a dark understanding of why her parents had been unable to love her—they had always seen her as tainted by her unknown genes.

‘I want to keep this baby because I already love him or her, and I don’t care whose genes she has. Please try to understand. This is your grandchild. A part of me.’

She’d waited, but her parents had just stood there, lips pressed together. Rosa had looked on, knowing something was wrong, her lower lip wobbling. So Etta had taken a deep breath, stepped forward and dropped a kiss on Rosa’s head, felt the little girl’s blond curls tickling her nose.

‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’

With that she’d left, one hand protectively cradling her tummy even as panic washed over her. All the time hoping, praying that they would call her back. But they hadn’t.

Etta blinked, emerged from the vivid clarity of the past and saw that Gabe was hunkered down in front of her chair. She realised a tear had escaped her eye and trickled a salty trail down her cheek.

He reached out and caught it on the tip of his thumb. ‘I’m sorry, Etta. I can’t imagine how that must have felt but I’m pretty sure it sucked.’

The temptation to throw herself on the breadth of his chest, inhale his scent, take reassurance and safety and comfort nigh on overwhelmed her.

Pull yourself together. She’d come to terms with her past long ago.

‘No need for you to be sorry. It is what it is and I’ve come to terms with it. I’ll never regret the choice I made.’

The idea of giving Cathy up had been an impossibility—her own birth parents had abandoned her, and maybe they’d had reason to, but she would not—could not—do that to her child.

‘But I do regret that Cathy has no grandparents. And I regret Rosa not being part of her life. That’s why I get mad when I see sibling relationships going to waste.’

He remained in front of her. His hand covered hers and awareness sparked.

‘So Rosa must be nineteen...twenty now?’

‘Yes. I send my parents a Christmas card every year. In case they ever want to meet their granddaughter.’

‘Maybe you need to try and get in touch with Rosa directly. Could be your parents haven’t told her about you or the Christmas cards.’

‘That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Gabe, you don’t need to come up with a strategy. My parents and I—we made our choices and we need to live with them.’

‘Rosa didn’t make a choice. I’m not advocating a reunion with your parents—I think what they did was wrong—but Rosa is different. She should be given a choice.’

‘I won’t be responsible for causing complications in Rosa’s life. Or my parents’. That’s my choice. Just like it’s yours whether or not you build a closer relationship with Kaitlin and Cora. My point is that I envy you the opportunity to do so. I think you should build on what you have with Kaitlin and Cora.’

‘Cora doesn’t need me—she is incredibly happy.’

‘Closeness isn’t just about being there when someone needs you. You don’t always have to be Mr Fix It.’ Though now she came to think of it, that was what Gabe was—always looking for a solution, the optimum strategy.

‘Right now there’s nothing to fix. Cora’s marriage seems to be working out.’

‘Even though she has made a technically unsuitable alliance? With someone out of your social circle?’

‘Actually, no. She has married someone with immense wealth—that’s an asset. And it turns out Rafael also has connections with the elite of Spanish aristocracy, though the jury is out on whether that is a useful commodity or not.’