Breathe Me: Smith and Belle (Royals Saga Book 11) Read online

  I nodded.

  “There’s not going to be a test,” he said gently. “You can be honest with me, Ms. Price.”

  “It’s just more than I expected,” I said, managing to keep my voice from cracking. “The transition, I mean. The sleep. The crying.”

  “Your crying or the baby’s crying?” he asked.

  “Both,” I said without thinking.

  “You are absolutely correct that there is a period of transition for most mothers. How they respond to the hormonal changes is different for every woman. The severity of your depression doesn’t reflect on your abilities as a mother.

  “I have no reason to be depressed,” I confessed. I’d have this argument with myself in the mirror this morning. “I’m sure if I give it time—”

  “Let me be clear,” he cut me off. “There is nothing wrong with having postpartum depression. Often, a woman feels it makes them a bad mother if they admit it. Over the last 40 years, I’ve heard women tell me all sorts of things that they thought following the birth of their baby. Some of them said they thought they were going crazy. Some of them were surprised they didn’t like being a mother more. Some of them felt like their life was spiraling out of control. It affects everyone differently. But there’s a lot of things we can do to help you feel better.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but found all of my arguments draining from me. Why had I come here if I was just going to argue with him? To make Smith happy? I’d gotten myself here. Why couldn’t that be enough? When I finally found my words again, they surprised even me. “Why don’t I want to be happy?”

  “You do. It just feels impossible, so you try not to think about it,” he said in a soft voice. “And when you try not to think about it, you can’t find the energy to do anything about it, and then you just get used to it and you wonder if it’s always been like this. Does anything I say feel familiar?”

  I nodded. It wasn’t exactly how I felt, but it was bloody close. “I just thought this was what it felt like to be a mum.”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but that’s not a natural reaction,” he said. “I think that there are a couple of things we can do to help you get through this. First of all, I’d like you to take a little quiet time for yourself every day. Walk around the village.”

  “We live in the country. We just bought Thornham.”

  His head tilted ever so subtly, and I found myself thinking about Tomas’s reaction to me telling him the same thing. Maybe everyone in town knew Thornham. Maybe they gossiped about the rich Londoners who lived there. I could only imagine what people said about us. I could only imagine how much worse it would be when they found out that I was practically in the loony bin.

  “Thornton has lovely grounds,” he continued casually, making me wonder if I’d imagined it entirely. “Take a walk down to the pond.”

  “I didn’t even know there was a pond. You must know Thornham better than I do,” I said, doing my best to have a normal social interaction. He thought I could solve this all by taking a walk. He had more faith than I did.

  “I recall when the Thorns still lived on the property, but that was decades ago,” he said. “It must’ve been some work to get the house into shape.”

  “We barely finished before the baby came,” I admitted.

  “It sounds like you’ve had a stressful year,” he said. “A new baby, a new house—it would be enough to make anyone anxious. That’s why I would also like to prescribe antidepressants to you.”

  I fought the urge to tell him no. Instead, I opted for voicing a more reasonable concern. “Is it safe for me to take them? I’m still nursing.”

  “I think you would do better to ask if it is safe for the baby for you not to take them.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Instead, I swallowed again, hoping not to burst into tears in front of the doctor a second time.

  “How are you sleeping?”

  “How am I supposed to be sleeping?” I said dryly. I might not have been prepared for all the changes my life would encounter when I had Penny, but I’d known I would be getting less sleep.

  “It seems you have help, but it’s always difficult to rest with an infant in the house,” he said, obviously referring to Nora. “And is your husband…"

  “He’s very helpful,” I said swiftly. In truth, Smith deserved more credit than I did. He certainly tried harder.

  “I’d like to prescribe a sleeping tablet as well,” he said. “You should only take it when you feel like you need to get very well rested or to catch up on sleep. Times when the baby is with her nanny or her father perhaps.

  I wanted to argue with him about that. A sleeping pill sounded even worse than antidepressants, but the thought of actually getting rest was too tempting.

  "Now, am I going to meet this little one?” he asked.

  I squared my shoulders before nodding. I’d had my moment alone. The doctor was going to give me things to fix me. There was no reason I should dread Nora bringing the baby in now. Still, when Dr. Stanton stuck his head out and called for Marjorie to send them in, I had the strangest urge to run. But the moment that Nora appeared with Penny, the feeling evaporated. Maybe I didn’t have everything figured out yet, but seeing my daughter sent warmth spreading through my chest. My bliss was short-lived as the doctor began his examination, which resulted in Penny screaming her head off in indignation.

  I felt terrible, but I couldn’t help giggling at how upset she got when he weighed her. My good humor vanished when he frowned. “Her weight is a little less than we would like to see at this stage. I’m going to give you a few recommendations for some herbs that will help you increase your milk supply, and I’d like you to bring her back in two weeks for another weight check.”

  Despite Dr. Stanton's continued assurances that there was nothing to worry about, I left the clinic clutching orders for multiple things from the pharmacy with a newfound guilt over Penny’s lack of weight gain. If I’d been more with it, I would have noticed. I tried to tell myself that Smith hadn’t noticed and neither had Nora. We’d no reason to suspect anything was wrong until the doctor told us, but I kept thinking of Marjorie’s words. If something was wrong she would have let us know. Had she been trying to? Had the screaming and crying and night waking been her attempts? Had I been too busy feeling sorry for myself to realize that my baby was hungry?

  We bundled Penny into her pram outside the clinic, opting to walk a few blocks down to the pharmacy in the village.

  A few eyes followed us as we entered. I couldn’t help thinking that the other patrons were whispering about us. They probably suspected I was the new owner of Thornham. A town as small as Briarshead needed all the gossip it could get. Then, I wondered with horror if Tomas had told everyone about my disastrous lunch date at his restaurant. But for some reason, I was sure he hadn’t. He didn’t seem like the type to engage in small-minded gossip. I paused at the counter and passed Dr. Stanton’s orders to the pharmacist there. She scanned them and nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”

  “Do you have a loo?” I asked her.

  She tipped her head towards the door near the back. In London, it would’ve been impossible to find a public restroom. I supposed one of the perks of living in a tiny village was that since everyone knew who you were, no one could refuse you the toilet.

  I walked over to Nora, peeking in to find Penny sleeping in her pram. “I’m going to use the loo. Are you alright?”

  “We’re fine. She’s sleeping like an angel.” She flashed me a bright smile, and I felt another prick of jealousy.

  As I made my way to the loo, I found myself hoping that Dr. Stanton was right. I would take walks and medicine and do anything if it meant being able to look at Penny and not see my own failures. I took my time, relishing the few minutes of quiet. The pharmacy was small enough that I was certain I would hear Penny if she woke up. When I finally ducked out, the pharmacist called over. “I have them for you here.”

  I paid for the prescriptions and
a tin of tea with the herbs he’d recommended. Then I found Nora looking at the menial selection of paperback romances the shop stocked at the counter. She put Seducing the Sultan back on the shelf, grinning sheepishly. “Got everything?”

  I clutched the bag, full of tablets and herbs and hope, then nodded. It had to work.

  It had to.

  Nora talked cheerfully on our way home, filling up the gaps of silence with mindless chatter about her holiday plans. My fingers clutched the wheel more tightly as she spoke of visiting family outside London over Christmas. We’d never discussed what would happen over the holidays. I hadn’t even been thinking about them, and now they were only a few weeks away. I shook my head, trying to rattle the days into place and realized with horror that I’d lost track of an entire week somehow. December had arrived and between Christmas photos, Bless news, and Nora coming to work, I’d lost track of time. Now Christmas was only ten days away, and I hadn’t bought a single present, sent cards, or considered whether we should stay here or return to London. The only reason we even had a tree up was thanks to Smith’s oversight.

  “Are you going to be gone long?” I asked Nora in a tight voice. I was still adjusting to having her here. Now she was going to leave. A numb coldness spread through me at the thought of facing Christmas morning this year.

  “A day or two,” she said, quickly adding, “unless you need me here. I don’t have to go.”

  I wasn’t going to be the monster bitch boss that demanded her nanny work over the holidays, so I shook my head. “Just wondering. We’ll have family around, so I’m just thinking ahead.”

  Nora had taken one of the two guest rooms, the one closest to Penny’s nursery, as her own. That only left one room for visitors. Not that I had invited anyone down to stay. Undoubtedly, they all had plans at this point. I hadn’t heard from any of them. Not even an invitation to join Clara and Alexander at Balmoral like we had done last year.

  Last year? Christmas in Scotland seemed so very long ago. I’d been hoping to get pregnant then, filled with so much happiness over what the future held. It was hard to believe only a year ago I’d felt that way. It seemed like a distant memory now.

  We pulled into Thornham’s circular drive and parked. Between all the baby items I’d insisted we bring after our last disastrous outing, my packages from the pharmacy, and the baby herself, both of us had our hands full. As we reached the door, it swung open. I expected to see Humphrey rushing out to help us but was surprised when Smith stepped out in bare feet and took Penny from my arms.

  “Allow me.” He cradled her closely, kissing the top of her forehead. “Hello, beautiful.”

  His words, directed at our daughter, stung, and I immediately shrugged them off. Of course, he would call her that. She was beautiful. Penny was the prettiest baby I’d ever seen. It was completely normal.

  “Waiting for us?” My eyes raked over him. He was in an old pair of jeans and a loosely ribbed sweater. I spotted his dirty boots in the tray next to the door.

  “Just finished up and saw you were on your way back,” he said smoothly, leaning to give me a kiss.

  I frowned. “Saw?”

  “You were coming down the drive,” he said, but his eyes didn’t meet mine.

  Smith was lying to me. I knew it as surely as I knew that I loved him—that he was my soul mate. The lie squeezed my heart, like it wanted to be seen for what it was. I just didn’t understand why.

  “How did it go?” he asked in an even tone, so perfectly calculated I wondered if he’d been planning this moment in his head all day.

  “He gave me drugs.” I held up the pharmacy bags. “They’re going to fix me.”

  “That’s all?” He sounded disappointed, and I wondered if he’d expected me to come back as a Stepford wife, suddenly prim and pleasing and poised.

  “I’m supposed to take walks and ask for help,” I bit out with a tired smile. Before I could finish, the door chime interrupted us. Smith had Penny and Nora had disappeared to put away her things, so I answered it just as Humphrey arrived to do the honors.

  The detective who’d overseen the investigation into our cellar was on the other side. I shot Smith a quizzical look.

  “The family is all here. I do believe you’ve added one to your number,” he said in a jovial tone.

  It took me a second to realize he was talking about Penny. I’d been pregnant the last time he was here. “Come in.”

  Humphrey looked even more put out that I’d invited the detective inside the house, and he bustled up, offering to take his coat.

  “I only came to speak with Mr. Price.” He waved off the assistance. “But if this isn’t a good time…”

  “No, it’s fine,” he said.

  I held out my arms to take the baby, wondering what this was about. Smith passed Penny to me before leading the police detective into the sitting room. He turned and smiled before he reached for the pocket doors that separated the space. As they slid shut, closing him off to me, I realized Smith wasn’t just lying to me.

  He was keeping secrets.

  20

  Smith

  “I am sorry to disturb you,” Detective Longborn said, taking a seat on the sofa. He glanced around the room and nodded appreciatively at the holiday decorations. “It’s nice to see this house with some life in it again. It’s been a long time since anyone celebrated Christmas here.”

  “Thornham is a family home again,” I said in a tight voice. Longhorn’s timing couldn’t have been worse. Not only had I forgotten to mention to Belle he’d be stopping by, he’d done so right as she was telling me about her doctor's appointment. Given how difficult it was to get her to open up these days, I couldn’t help being concerned that my window to hear the details would be closed when I was done here. I didn’t want to have to press Nora for information. I’d already slipped up and nearly admitted that I’d asked the nanny to send a message as soon as they were on the way home today.

  “You said you had an update for me,” I prompted, ready to get Longborn talking.

  “Yes, but I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

  I stopped, my eyes wandering to a nearby brass bar cart and the crystal decanter sitting on it. I’d chosen to give up drinking a year ago. Since then, I found myself breaking that promise on more than one occasion. Generally, I did so out of a sense of social obligation. I couldn’t help thinking that a detective delivering bad news about the bones in my basement was just such an occasion. “Drink?”

  I half expected him to refuse, given that he was clearly on duty, but he nodded. Maybe, that’s how things were here. It wasn’t as though Briarshead had a high crime rate. Surely, a detective could have a drink in the afternoon with a local. Still, as I turned to pour one, I caught his eyes skittering nervously around the room. What did he have to tell me that had put him this on edge?

  “Do you remember Christmases here?” I asked him.

  “Before my time,” he said. “But there’s always someone in the village telling stories about Thornham’s glory days.”

  “You say that like they’re a thing of the past,” I pointed out, pouring Macallan into a tumbler.

  He gave an apologetic smile when I brought it to him. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s hard to get used to seeing people living here. It’s been vacant most of my life.”

  “Why is that?” Purchasing the estate had been easier than anticipated. It had been a surprise to find out that it had sat vacant for so long before it went up for sale. Despite that, the house hadn’t been on the market for more than a few weeks when we purchased it.

  “The remaining family didn’t want to sell,” he said with a shrug before taking a sip of his Scotch and sighing appreciatively. “You’ve got the good stuff.”

  If you only knew. I prided myself on having the good stuff. The biggest house. The prettiest wife. The best Scotch. But having Longborn sitting here, reminded me that all those points of pride were an illusion. I had the biggest house, but I knew nothing about
it. I didn’t know why it sat empty for all of those years. I had the prettiest wife, but there was something ugly inside her, hurting her and I couldn’t seem to root it out. In actuality, my Scotch seemed to be the only thing of value I could claim pride in.

  “I assume this is about the bones.” The time for pleasantries had passed. Longborn was going to keep avoiding the real reason he was here until I forced him to talk.

  “I know when we first spoke, I said that it wouldn’t be unusual to find something like this in a house of this age.” His thumb skimmed along the cut-crystal edge of his glass.

  I nodded. I thought the same thing. A house that had been standing since the 16th century had to come with its own history—both good and bad.

  “Unfortunately, the laboratory results have come back and the bones aren’t quite as old as we suspected.”

  “How old are they?” I asked slowly, already certain I didn’t want to know the answer.

  “A few decades,” he said in a quiet voice, triggering my memory of what Georgia had said this afternoon on the phone.

  “Does this have something to do with the closed case file you wouldn’t release to my associate?” I asked coldly. I was losing patience with the village detective quickly. If he had come to deliver bad news, I was ready for him to have it out. I’d dealt with enough recently.

  “We aren’t in the habit of handing out closed case files to whoever calls.” Longhorn’s chest puffed out importantly, but his darting eyes told me that his confidence was a front.

  “I think you’ll find that Georgia Kincaid has the clearance to read any file she wants,” I said flatly, adding, “as do I.”

  “Is that so?”

  I didn’t often use my connections to the royal family to my own advantage. But I was at my wits end with Thornham Park, Detective Longborn, and small-minded superstitions.

  “She works as the Queen’s private security,” I told him.