With the report from the Pinkertons that Lucas had given away his motorcycle and that he had accepted a ride from a stranger, the search for Jenny's brother became more difficult. Something had clearly happened, and until she knew he was safe, Grant couldn't rest. Nathan asked the Pinkerton's U.S. office to keep an eye on railroad passengers' lists as a long shot, but for now, it would be a matter of waiting and contacting others to keep an eye out for Bouchard.

Jenny sat in the library at the mansion and spent most of the day making telephone calls from New York to as far away as Bellingham. Bill was contacted by Nathan, as was Henry, while Jenny spoke with the Canfields, the Yosts, and the Coulters. Everyone was worried and a prayer vigil went out.

While speaking to Bellingham, Jenny learned of another concern to add to her prayer list and that was Jack Thornton. His adoption had just been signed off on, but Jack was not happy when he was told about it. In fact, the boy had burst into tears and went to his room, refusing to tell either Rosemary or Lee what he was feeling. Rosemary told Jenny that Lee felt like an utter failure.

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Lucas's sister asked that Rosemary bring Lee to the telephone. What was going on with Jack was not what it appeared to be. As the adoptive parents listened, Jenny Grant explained.

"When I was taken from my parents, Nan, that is Lydia Drake, tried to make me feel like I was part of the family. It took some time, but ultimately, at least with her, her attempt succeeded. But that first year away from them was the worst. We celebrated Christmas, New Year's, and my seventh birthday away from my family, and I can honestly recall being miserable and feeling quite lonely at that time.

Jack is going through something similar. This will be the first birthday he has without his mother or his Buddy present, the first Christmas, the first…everything. The realization of what he has lost is probably weighing heavily on him. Add to that the fact that he had expected that Lucas would be his father, and it's just a reminder that Buddy is gone. It has nothing to do with you. You're doing everything right. And I do believe that Jack will eventually come to a place of acceptance. But you may go through a period of trial while he works that out. My advice is to be patient with him – for he will certainly try your patience, and do everything you can to make him feel loved and safe and that he is secure.

Lee, you, not my brother, are now his father. Being a parent isn't always an easy task. But it's an important role you play, and at the end of the day, it will be worth it."


A vacant lot stood in place of where Jeanette Aucoin's former residence once stood. The house being somewhat recently torn down, it would appear, a new bank being built in its place. And as Lucas Bouchard stood there staring at the empty site, he couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the moment – an empty lot to match the emptiness he felt inside at that moment. After a few moments of reflection over the apparent move of the only person he could seem to remember in New Orleans at that time, Bouchard shrugged and got back into his car. Being alone would seem to be his lot.

After that, a morose Bouchard took a ride through town, looking for nothing in particular except for the familiar, and in the lostness of the moment, decided to forget it all and go into town to find a little entertainment. If he were lucky, he might happen upon someplace that served alcohol in this era of prohibition. It shouldn't be hard in New Orleans, which was notoriously averse to the government's meddling, and where there were plenty of establishments around where a 'wink would get you a drink.'

The New Orleans Mayor, McShayne, had made a few operators uneasy given his public proclamation to crack down on gambling and vice, but money tended to soothe the nerves, and money was the one thing that Lucas had. Perhaps they'd take pity.

Parking his car on Rampart, Bouchard followed a group of people into an establishment called the Little Gem Saloon. The jazz strains flowing through its front doors already had an appeal to Lucas, especially the bluesy notes that matched his present mood. He went into the building and found a seat among the quite diverse crowd.

A waiter presented Bouchard with a menu, and Lucas scanned the room and then when the man came back for his order, leaned in and asked the waiter to do the same.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of the, uh…real McCoy, would you?"

The man furrowed his brow in confusion. "Huh?"

"Um…giggle water? Hooch?"

The waiter raised his eyebrows. "Whiskey?"

Lucas looked around the room, seeing several patrons with glasses. "Yes. That's what I mean."

"That stuff's illegal," the man stated.

"Oh," Lucas said, lowering his eyes.

"But…for a price…."

Bouchard withdrew a gold coin from his pocket and put it on the table, and the waiter smiled. "It'll be right out, sir."

Lucas closed his eyes, listening to the sway of the music and allowing it to overrun his thoughts until a voice pierced through the smoky lounge.

"Lucas? Lucas Bouchard?"

Lucas opened his eyes and immediately recognized a young woman that he knew from his earlier days who was a barmaid at one of the saloons of New Orleans.

"Kat?" he said, his eyes widening with surprise.

"I knew it was you!" she said, coming up to him and taking a seat at his table. "How on earth have you been?"

Lucas's friend's attire was somewhat scandalous and her makeup such that Bouchard knew that since he had last seen her, she had fallen into illicit activity. It made his heart sad because she was always such a sweet young lady, but he reserved any judgment.

"Oh, you know….I'm here," he said nonchalantly. The truth of the matter was, what could he tell her? "My life is a wreck, and I'm an emotional mess?"

Kat smiled. "I know what you mean. I'm doing okay, though I sure never thought I'd end up doing what I'm doing. But when they shut down all the official saloons, I couldn't find work anywhere else."

"Do you need help?" Lucas asked, reaching forward and touching her arm as the waiter returned with his drink.

Before she could answer another man walked up to them who wore an expensive suit and hat which appeared to be the latest fashion.

"What's going on here, Kit-Kat?"

Kat immediately stood up, looking nervous. "Oh, I was just talking to one of my old friends who has come into town."

"I don't pay you to talk to friends," the man replied. "Get back to work!"

Kat looked back at Lucas with an expression that was somewhere between nervousness and desperation, and Bouchard immediately reached out his hand. "How much for her time?" he said, touching the man on the arm.

Kat's employer, a local pimp named Arturo, smirked. Looking Lucas up and down, the man surmised that Bouchard was someone with means and quickly began calculating a price. "Fifteen dollars an hour, plus the room."

Kat tried to say a word in protest, but Lucas again pulled the cash out of his pocket and handed forty dollars to the man. "Will this cover the next two hours?"

The man took the money and laughed. "Sure," he said, turning back toward Kat. "You do anything he tells you to, you hear?"

She looked at Lucas, knowing her friend's character, and grinned slightly. "Yes, Arturo. I will."


Kat led Lucas across the street to a hotel that was not too fancy but at least appeared clean, and then she withdrew the key from her bustier and let herself into one of the rooms that, once they entered, appeared to be where she lived.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said. "Arturo's one of the better ones."

Lucas looked around for a chair away from the bed so that she would know his intentions were wholly honorable. "I figured you could use the night off," he replied. "Or…perhaps a new start."

Kat was reaching for a lighter just as he said those words and stopped and looked at him, then took a seat on her bed. "It's probably too late for that. Nobody would want me now."

"It's never too late," Lucas said, his heart being encouraged by the very words he was speaking that he hoped beyond hope were true. "I could help you move away from here."

"From New Orleans? It's my home."

"There are other places to call home. Places that won't require you to sell your virtue. You used to play piano, for instance. Maybe you could teach music?"

Kat laughed. "What virtue I had was taken a long time ago. And if I ever settled someplace and they learned of what I was doing here….well…"

Lucas began to speak another word in protest but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"New Orleans Police! Open up!"


Judge Bill Avery rushed through the busy streets of New Orleans and into the courthouse, maneuvered his way through the crowded halls, and ducked into his office. It was a long night of little sleep after hearing that Lucas Bouchard was once again missing. It had been several days, but he had only received the call yesterday. His eyes misted as he thought of his beloved Elizabeth, the only daughter he would ever know, and all that had happened between the two of them.

Thinking of her reminded Bill of how much he missed Little Jack, his godson. A trip was needed in the near future to see the lad. He didn't want the boy to forget him.

As for Lucas, hopefully, he was fine. He was a grown man, after all.

"Judge Avery."

Bill sighed when he heard the voice of his new clerk, a young man by the name of Homer Butts, calling out his name. Homer was new to his job and Bill wasn't sure how long he would be able to stand the young man's nasally voice before he snapped. Quickly counting to five, Bill responded as he straightened his tie in the mirror.

"Yes, Homer."

"I was afraid you wouldn't make it in today," the young man answered, holding several folders in his hand.

"And yet, here I am, at your service." As much as Avery tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, it was always there when he had to listen to the clerk speak and came out as sarcasm. And it wasn't that Homer was bad at his job. He was efficient enough. It was his desire to be wherever Bill was and his constant need for affirmation that Bill disliked. The fact was Butts seemed to idolize the judge, and Avery didn't like being stuck on anyone's pedestal.

The boy's annoying voice didn't help.

"I've got your cases right here, Judge Avery. I hope they are in the order that you wanted."

"Thank you, Homer. I'm sure you did well. What's on the docket today?" he asked, looking at the clock that showed he only had a moment.

"A couple of burglars, several thefts, an assault, and a solicitor."

"Solicitor?"

"You know... for personal reasons..."

It was this way every time he had a case regarding prostitution. Butts was young and easily embarrassed, so he tended to stammer on any words that had to do with sex. "Alright, I need to get out there," Bill said as he reached for the binders.

"But sir, your robe...again."

Nodding, Bill rolled his eyes and threw the garment on, taking his paperwork as he entered the courtroom, muttering, "It's times like these I miss Hope Valley."


The morning had dragged by, and Bill took a sip of his water as he opened the last folder, ready for a break.

Ah, yes, the 'solicitor.' Not even looking at the name, he scanned the page, seeing the usual- white male, mid-30s, arrested in a raid. Reading further, his eyebrow rose as he saw the notation that the young man denied any wrongdoing. Apparently, he was only there to talk with the young prostitute.

Sure, he was, Bill thought as he rubbed his forehead. His lack of sleep was catching up with him and a headache was forming, in addition to the fact he had skipped breakfast and needed food. Maybe he could catch a nap in his office before returning this afternoon.

Missing the first part of the bailiff's speech as he had been focused on reading, Bill did hear the words not guilty when the accused was asked how he pled.

Of course. They were never guilty. This shouldn't take long, and he could dig into the muffuletta that was waiting for him in his office. He could almost taste it now.

Finally, looking up, the judge made eye contact with the suspect in question. A look of recognition was followed by a shake of his head and a slight smirk. What were the chances? He thought with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

"Mr. Bouchard. I see you pled not- guilty to the charges against you."

"Yes, your honor," Lucas replied, uncertainty crowding his thoughts at this turn of events. Looks like the judge had decided to stay in New Orleans.

Standing to his feet, Bill cleared his throat. "Bailiff, remove the cuffs. I want to speak with Mr. Bouchard in my chambers," he stated as he turned for the door behind him.


Stepping into his chambers, Bill took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Lucas to sit on the opposite side of him. Staring at him for an uncomfortably long amount of time, the judge took time to assess how his friend was doing, something that made Lucas a bit uneasy.

"I can explain," Lucas finally said after the long break.

"No need," Bill responded. "I know you. I know your character. And, I know whatever it was you were doing with a woman of ill repute in that part of town was most likely innocent. What I want to know is, how are you?"

"How am I?"

"Your family is worried sick about you," Avery continued. "Your sister…"

"I told her not to worry."

"After everything you've gone through?" Bill asked, raising his eyebrows. "Fat chance. So, I ask again…how are you?"

Lucas stared toward the floor. After several long seconds, he shrugged. "I don't know. In my right mind again, I suppose. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. Remembering more and more. I came here to try to reconnect – to try to make sense of my past."

"And are you? Making sense of your past?"

Lucas shook his head. "I know the area. I even have recognized a few of the people – none of them people I would speak to on a regular basis, except for Kat."

"The woman you were in the room with."

"I was hoping to help her get out of the type of lifestyle she's fallen into. When I met her, she was a waitress at one of the saloons. She wasn't doing this sort of thing. Shutting down the saloons has driven her to vice."

Bill shook his head, considering how much it sounded like Lucas that he'd be trying to help better another person's life in such a way. Then he nodded. "Well, every life has its challenges, and we all have to make our own decisions on how we deal with things. When's the last time you've eaten?"

Lucas shrugged. "I had a cup of tea and some toast at a roadway diner this morning."

Avery stood. "Well, I know just the place to help fill a hungry stomach. Do you remember Jeanette Aucoin?"

Lucas's eyes opened wide. "Yes! I went to her house to see her. She was the one person I thought I could talk to in town. But, when I arrived at her house, it was gone."

Bill nodded. "Moved across town, close to where I live. I'm having dinner with her tonight. You can come with me. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you."


"Here. I brought you some ginger ale. It always helped me when I was sick," Jenny said, handing Tilly a glass and then taking a seat next to her lounge chair. It had been a couple of days since she found out that she was going to be an aunt, and ever since that moment, her nurturing instincts had stepped in toward the younger woman. The bond between the two was growing by the day.

Rasmussen took a sip of the drink as they sat peacefully alone together in the sunroom, Lucas's girlfriend having finally roused from her sickbed but staying quiet as the house prepared for the king.

"How are you feeling otherwise?" Grant asked.

Tilly set the glass down. "Nervous. I haven't seen His Majesty in months."

"His Majesty?" Jenny asked. "You call your father by his formal title?"

Tilly smiled. "Sometimes. He's an imposing figure. He has to be, I suppose, with all of the snakes that surround him."

"Well, there's my sunshine girl," Michael said, entering the room with the ever-present drink in hand. "And how are we feeling today?"

Jenny looked up at him and frowned. "She's doing better. Isn't it a little early for drinking?"

Michael smirked. "Never. I just got off the phone with the embassy. The king's ship is progressing well, and he should be here on Sunday, just in time to allow His Majesty to rest up a bit before the big Christmas party on Wednesday night, which reminds me. Sophia indicated she needed your help with something related to the party," he said to Jenny. "I know you will be leaving, but it seems she still needs your unique touch."

Jenny furrowed her brow with confusion. "Oh, okay." She turned to Tilly and touched her arm. "I'll stop back by when we're finished."

"Take your time," Rasmussen replied.

An uncomfortable quiet filled the room as Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the yard, removing a cigar from his pocket as he did. Finally, rather than allowing the silence to remain, Tilly spoke up, hoping to find out what he came to talk about before sending him on his way.

"Is everything going well at home?" Tilly asked. "With Uncle Peter stepping in and all?"

"Yes. The citizenry is busy with their own holiday preparations and understand that the king and Prince Gregori will be away until the New Year. Even the opposition is at bay. Duke Peter should be able to handle things quite well during this season of peace."

"Yes. Uncle Peter is very competent."

Michael turned around and walked to her side, taking the seat where Jenny once sat. "Tell me, Tilly. How are you? You've been under the weather for so long. Everyone is quite concerned."

"I will be fine," she responded. "This is the time of year when illness strikes."

"Yes," Michael responded. "But there is something more with this one. You seem…I don't know, sad. I know that you cared for Bouchard and with everything that he did, leaving you - without so much as a word…."

"I do not wish to talk about Lucas," she said. "Especially with you. Talk about something else."

Michael smirked, then reached into his pocket for a lighter, having snipped the end off of his cigar while they were talking. "I have a trip planned to Dashma after the holidays." He lit the item and then drew in a deep puff, exhaling it slowly as he continued to speak. "I'm meeting with the minister of the interior to discuss some deals that I'm negotiating for the kingdom with the Hungarian government to help bolster their defenses, and….Tilly?"

As he was speaking, the smoke from Michael's cigar began to float about Rasmussen, causing Tilly to immediately feel sick. She tried to fight it, but a wave of nausea hit her so strongly that she closed her eyes and placed her hand over her mouth. Trying to get up, Tilly instead doubled over, leaning over the side of the chair and falling in front of her former suitor. He caught her in his arms.

"Are you okay?" Michael said, sitting down the cigar and helping her back to her chair.

Tilly's eyes began to whelm. "I…I'm fine…I mean, I will be okay."

Michael sat on the end of the chaise that Tilly was sitting on. "I don't think so. Ottilia, this has gone on far too long. We need to call a doctor…"

"NO!" Tilly said sharply. "I said I'll be fine." She then looked over toward the smoldering stogie. "Would you mind putting that out? I don't like the smell."

Michael looked at the cigar and then at Tilly then back at the largely unexpended remnants of his smoke. "Of course," he responded, putting it out. He reached for her glass. "Here. Drink."

Tilly sipped on the ginger ale, the entire time not making eye contact with Melrose, so the latter decided to go for a reaction. "It's that philanderer's fault, you know. Men like that playing with women's hearts just to leave them…."

"I said I do not wish to speak about him."

"I can't help it! Can't you see what he's done to you? You're depressed; your stomach is all up in knots. Why…if he were to walk into the room at this very moment, I'm afraid I'd have to do something. Men like him should not be permitted to do what they do to women. Particularly," he said, reaching out and stroking her hair, then putting his hand under her chin. "One as beautiful and sweet as you."

Tilly stared at Melrose for a long moment, her stomach beginning to settle, but her constitution still being unsettled. She didn't want to argue with the man. She just wanted to be left alone.

"You've said enough, Michael. Now, please…I would like to rest. I'm not well yet, but I am improving."

Melrose nodded, picking up his cigar and drink and then standing. "I just want you to feel better. You may not believe me, but I still care for you deeply."

Tilly did not respond, and Michael quickly left her side.


"He seems distant and sad."

The words were spoken by Jeanette as she and Bill stood in the kitchen of her new home, keeping an eye on their guest drinking his tea on the veranda. Upon seeing Lucas in his courtroom earlier, the judge had dismissed the charges against him, rescheduled his afternoon docket, and taken Bouchard for a walk through the city before driving him to Aucoin's house. The two were cleaning up the dishes after dinner.

"He doesn't seem to remember what happened with Elizabeth or very little of it. I should keep an eye on him. We don't want another breakdown. I'll take him home with me."

"To that tiny apartment of yours, Bill?" Jeanette asked. "You would be bumping into each other every time you turned around. No, I have an empty guest room, just waiting on its first visitor. Lucas is it."

Bill smiled, his eyes softening as he gazed at her. "Are you sure? We don't really know what is going on with him..."

Glancing over at Bouchard again, she answered. "Look at him, he isn't dangerous. I think he simply needs a friend- or two. Someone to talk to, perhaps. From what he has said, his memories are jumbled, and many are missing. We could help clear out the cobwebs a bit. He can sleep here tonight, and we will take him out tomorrow. See if we can shake things loose in that mind of his."

"Do you think that's wise?" Bill questioned, a bit uneasy at the proposal.

"I'm not sure we have a choice. He's troubled and needs to know the truth. We will be cautious, and we won't leave his side." Her calming touch on his arm convinced Avery that she was right.

"Let's get him settled then. I need to go home and call his family. They are worried sick... again," Bill replied as they walked through the house towards her new boarder.


December 18th arrived, and the Grants stood in the foyer saying their goodbyes. It had been a busy month, with Nathan getting more embroiled in Pinkerton work than he ever expected to and Jenny spending much of her time with Tilly, who was still struggling. Sophia and Ari insisted that she see a doctor but Rasmussen again refused, the hosts chalking it up to personal stubbornness more than anything else. And Michael was ever present, ever doting, ever empathetic, and ever taking every opportunity that he could to plant some seeds of doubt concerning Lucas.

Tilly knew, of course, when it came to Lucas's character that such disparaging was unwarranted. He was a gentleman, a kind man, and a man who, despite his abrupt departure and failure to communicate what had precipitated it, was the man she loved with her entire being. She knew he loved her too, but she worried about him and about what he was going through.

Tilly did experience some relief from her worries when Nathan told her on the day after Bouchard first met up with Bill that he had been spotted in New Orleans and was staying with friends. She knew better than to try to contact him, but Grant assured her that they were good people, and so she tried to put that part out of her mind -trying to have faith, as Jenny admonished her to, that he would one day return. It's what kept her going.

But now, her new 'sister-friend' was leaving, which again left Tilly quite depressed. What was she going to do without her support system and the king arriving the very next day?

"Please call me when you're not busy," Jenny said, hugging her friend. "I know things will be unpredictable once the king is here, but I want to know how things are going."

"I will do so," Rasmussen replied, giving Lucas's sister a kiss on both cheeks. "Safe travels, and tell Martin, Helen, Luke, and Jo that I said Merry Christmas."

"Will do," Nathan said, giving her a hug. "You do the same."


A moment later, all of the commotion and excitement of the Grants leaving was over. The Falkenbergs moved to the back of the house to see to some final preparations and Tilly was left with Michael, standing alone in the hallway. She looked pale and sad.

"Tilly, are you doing okay? You look sick again."

Rasmussen shook her head and tried to deflect but nodded he was right. "I believe I need to sit down."

Melrose took her hand and leaned down to feel her forehead. "You don't feel feverish. I really wish you would see a doctor. I can get you some more ginger ale if you like."

"No," Tilly said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm just tired."

"You're always tired. Something's wrong, Ottilia. You haven't been the same since…." Melrose stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Oh. Oh, my."

"What?" Tilly asked, her eyes looking at his with concern.

Michael shook his head. "Never mind, you couldn't be."

A guilty look appeared on Tilly's face, exactly as Melrose had hoped. He made a great show of his physical expression. "You're…you're not…are you?"

"I'm not?" Tilly feigned ignorance over what he was asking, putting a fake half-smile on her face.

Michael folded his arms. "That Lothario hasn't gotten you in a family way, has he?"

Tilly's eyes widened. "Don't…don't call him that."

"Ottilia, answer me. Are you expecting a child?"

Tilly immediately looked toward the door to listen for sounds of anyone near and then turned away from Melrose. "Michael, leave me alone, please."

Melrose stood still for an abnormal amount of time for dramatic effect and then stepped over to her. "I see."

Walking over to the other side of her chair, he leaned down to talk to her. "Well, it needn't ruin you. There are ways of taking care of such a thing, doctors, in Europe."

Angry, Tilly looked up at him. "I would never consider such a thing."

"Then adoption. We can set you up at my parents' estate in Scotland and have you give birth as other royals have done…it will be very discrete. I can arrange it all."

"I will do no such thing," Tilly said. "This is my child, and I will keep him or her."

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious."

"Tilly, think of the implications – the scandal…"

"I'm not discussing this with you, Michael. Now, I asked for you to go, and I mean for you to go. This is my life. Not yours. I appreciate your concern, but you've said enough."

Melrose stood, making a mock show of being offended. "Fine. Do what you wish. I'll be here if you need me."

As Michael left the room, Tilly sat back in the chair, her hand reaching up and touching the locket around her neck, which included a photo of her and Lucas.

"I don't need Michael. I only need you," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please come home, Lucas. Please?"


Exiting the car, Lucas walked ahead of Bill and Jeanette to the doors of the old saloon, placing his hand on the closed entrance and pausing.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Avery asked quietly, not wanting Lucas to hear.

"I'm not sure of anything except that our friend needs answers. He will never be able to move forward without them," she responded as they watched Bouchard stand there with his eyes closed as if trying to remember. After a few moments of silence, he opened them and turned around.

"Are you ready to go in, Lucas?" Jeanette said softly as she strode forward and placed a supportive hand on his back.

The expression on his face appeared calm as he nodded. "Yes, I believe I am."

The judge opened the unlocked door and swung it inward, waiting for his companions to enter before him. Bill couldn't believe how nervous he felt as he stepped over the threshold of the building where Elizabeth took her last breath. A deep inhale settled his nerves only slightly as the three of them moved further into the dilapidated room, his stare never leaving Lucas.

Bouchard viewed the area, looking from the bar to the stage and up to the inner balcony. Finding the stairs, he ascended slowly, making his way over to the shabby velvet curtains and reaching up to touch them. A flash of memory crossed his vision as he looked down towards the piano. What flooded back came quickly and seemed as if he was watching a movie on a screen, the entire remembrance coming back in full detail.

Elizabeth was talking, but not to her captor, who stood nearby with a gun. She mentioned Jack in her conversation and not wanting to go. The kidnapper, who Lucas recognized as Amos Dixon, reached for her shirt and ripped it as she pulled away from him and stomped on his foot. As she shoved Dixon, Elizabeth began to run. When Lucas saw the gun pointed in her direction, he knew he had to act and used the curtain as a means of getting down swiftly- landing on the piano before slamming into Dixon.

Descending the stairs, Lucas walked over to the piano, Bill and Jeanette remaining silent as they watched him process. Thus far, they hadn't seen any emotional outbursts or reactions of any kind, so they stayed out of the way and only observed.

As Bouchard approached the piano and stage area, he gazed down.

The two men fought over the gun while Lucas screamed for Elizabeth to run. She ignored his pleas. Grabbing a plank, she swung for Dixon's head. He spun around and pulled the trigger. The bullet found its mark in her chest, and she fell to the floor as Lucas heard himself scream out, 'No!' Crawling across the stage, Lucas embraced Elizabeth for the last time as his tears fell onto her clothes. 'It's so beautiful,' she said before exhaling for the last time.

Lucas remembered. He recalled every moment in what should be excruciating detail and yet, there was no pain. His emotions were flat regarding what was probably the biggest loss of his life.

Walking over to where she died, he knelt, touching the floor where she had lain on that fateful day.

"I loved her," he stated aloud, certain of the words and yet his voice remained unruffled and composed.

"With all your heart," Bill said, his voice shaking, his eyes tearful. "And she loved you."

"I remember. I recall all of what happened here, and yet..." Lucas didn't finish the words. Somehow, the gravity of this moment made him realize he should feel...something. But there was nothing.

"I'm ready," he said dully, walking back to the front door, his friends following behind.

"Let's get back to the house. You look tired," Jeanette said as they got into the car.

Silence was the only response from the back seat.


If they had meant to keep the king's arrival confidential, the secret was out when he arrived at the docks of New York Harbor and was subsequently escorted to the Falkenberg estate with great fanfare. In any other place, seeing a limousine with police escort would have impressed, but most New Yorkers simply stopped, looked to see who it was, and then, not recognizing the passengers as someone they knew, went back to their business – which on a Sunday afternoon tended more toward leisure than anything else. The queen, of course, was by his side, and next to them was Prince Gregori, a handsome man in his own right with his mother's brown hair and his paternal grandfather's features – they looked every bit the royal family.

Pulling into the Falkenberg estate around four, their regal decorum dropped for a moment as Annie rushed out to greet them, throwing her arms around Gregori's neck and then holding on to him for dear life. The child wept, and Gregori sought to console her, promising her that now that there was somewhat of a truce, he believed she could come home – she and his sister both. This information took Tilly by surprise.

"Really, Gregori?"

"It's a bit tenuous, but yes. Rebel leaders have agreed to a cease-fire if certain demands are met by the king. Most of the items are improvements that we had intended to make anyway, so it was a win-win I would suppose. We are finishing upgrades on palace security, as a precaution, including an electrified mote!" he chuckled.

Tilly smiled softly, feeling conflicted about going back to Dashma as her home for the past six months had been in New York. She liked it there, the anonymity, and yet she felt a strong sense of responsibility toward her homeland. She knew that wherever she was, Lucas could find her, so that was not at the time a consideration – but then she wondered where she'd be in eight months. Would she and her child be welcomed in her parents' home?


For the rest of the day, things were again quiet. Tilly milled about the mansion, taking one brief walk with her mother, Queen Charlotte, who noticed her looking pale, and another with her brother, who surmised there was something else. She simply smiled and told him he was sweet to worry about her, but she was fine.

And so it went for the next several days until Wednesday arrived, and it seemed all of New York had turned out for the Falkenbergs annual Christmas party. The Rockefellers were there along with the Vanderbilts. Louise Carnegie arrived, still the grieving widow after her husband Andrew's passing the prior year. She had become friends with Sophia Falkenberg and, along with her daughter, Margaret Carnegie-Miller, was a special guest at the event.

The band started playing at seven o'clock as the crowd began filing in, with the royal family standing in a receiving line next to the Falkenbergs. Tilly was used to such events but had not felt well since she had awakened that morning. But she stood there smiling, like a 'good little soldier' as her mother would say, standing next to Gregori and greeting a slew of people she had never met. In the distance, Michael stood watching, formulating his next move.

By nine-fifteen, the crowd had still not dispersed, and the room was getting warm, even for Queen Charlotte's normally cold nature. It was then that Tilly herself, began to feel weak.

She turned to Gregori, who could see immediately that she was pale as a ghost, and started to tell him she was going to take a break when suddenly her knees buckled. She fell into his arms in a dead faint. All activity ceased, and Tilly was immediately carried to the private den and laid down on a couch.

"We need a doctor!" Gregori shouted, rousing Tilly slightly, who wanted to protest but felt far too weak.

The Falkenbergs stayed back to entertain their guests, but the royals and Michael joined Tilly in the privacy of that room.

Within minutes of the occurrence, Dr. Phineas Strong, a cardiologist at Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan, was at her side. Requesting the nervous family wait in a side room the doctor examined Tilly and then interviewed her as well. And, while it was impossible for him to determine with certainty what the diagnosis was, the combination of symptoms and circumstances led him to conclude what Tilly already knew. She was expecting a child. It was with that shocking news that the King, Queen, and Prince were ushered back into the room.


While putting some finishing touches on the table, Jeanette heard a knock on the door and smiled as she went to open it. Even though she was no longer a youngster, her heart fluttered when she saw Bill standing on the stoop holding flowers, his smile matching her own. She had come to care for him deeply in the last few months.

"Come on in. Dinner is almost ready," she said as she took the blossoms, leaning in to smell them. "And thank you for these. They are beautiful."

Avery rubbed his now empty hands together nervously. "Something smells wonderful," he called out to her as he looked around, following slowly after her. "I don't see your guest."

Jeanette fussed with filling a vase with water, so she turned her head to reply. "He was out earlier but went back to his room a couple of hours ago. Not very chatty today." Placing the flowers in the vessel to her liking, she then positioned them on the table. "That's exactly what we needed," she added, taking another quick look at them before lightly touching Bill's arm as she walked back into the kitchen. "Help me with the ham."

It had been almost a month since Lucas had departed New York.

In his room, he gazed out the window at the few remaining leaves hanging on to an almost barren tree, wondering how they managed to hold on in the stiff breeze. As he watched, his thoughts were muddled between how he believed he should be feeling now that he remembered what happened with Elizabeth and how his heart was bound with Tilly's back in New York City. It was puzzling, for sure.

He used to love his deceased fiancée. Deep down, Bouchard knew it had to be true, and yet he couldn't grasp those lost emotions. It made him feel uncertain and forlorn until his thoughts turned to Rasmussen.

His princess.

No matter what he had felt in the past and for whom, Lucas was now completely in love with Tilly and wanted to make her his wife. No doubt his letter had hurt her, but hopefully, he could set things to right quickly in his mind now that he knew the truth and get back to her.

As he pondered, he did feel a certain tenderness for Thornton's son, Jack. His little buddy. He wondered how the boy was faring in all this time since he lost his mother.

"Lucas! Dinner!" His friend Jeanette called out, bringing a sigh. I guess all this can wait, he thought as he stood and walked to the mirror. Checking his appearance, he left the room and joined them.

The chatter at the table was light, Bill and Jeanette trying to keep Lucas involved in the conversation.

"Everything is delicious. Thank you for inviting me over," Avery said midway through his full plate. "Oh, by the way, I got a call from the Coulters this morning and spoke to my godson."

The words caught Lucas's attention as he locked eyes with Bill. "How is my... Little Jack doing?" he asked, taking another bite of the candied sweet potatoes on his plate.

"He was excited about Christmas, of course. But according to Rosemary, things have been rough. Too many changes... and losses..." Bill let the sentence hang and went back to his food.

Bouchard nodded, his mind immediately drifting toward that precious child who seemed to be the one connection to Elizabeth that persisted. Perhaps it was because he was a connection to her? He thought. But no, it was more than that. He loved the child, and to hear that things weren't going well for him pained Lucas's heart. He needed to figure out something he could do.

"Jeanette, you've outdone yourself." Bill's voice broke into Lucas's thoughts and brought him back to the present.

"I'm pleased that you enjoyed it," she responded. Jeanette then reached out her hands and touched the arms of both men. "Would the two of you indulge me with something?"

"Certainly. Of course." was the mutual response.

"Christmas is a time of giving and receiving, and while we didn't exchange gifts – mainly because I didn't know that I would have the pleasure of visitors this year, would you join me by the Christmas tree to read the Christmas story?"

"Ah, the greatest gift of all, so they say," Bill responded.

Lucas simply smiled, then nodded.

Taking a seat by the tree, Bouchard looked up at Jeanette as she handed him what appeared to be a family Bible.

"It was my father's," she explained. "Passed down from his father. He used to read to us about the Christ child every year about this time. I can still remember Papa's deep voice as he told the tale. Would you do the honors, Lucas?"

Bouchard swallowed, then nodded. "Of course. Where would you like me to read?"

"Right here. Matthew 1. Read to verse 24," she pointed.

Lucas shook his head and smoothed the pages as he began reading from verse 18.

"Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a publick example, was minded to put her away privily. But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins. Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us."

Bouchard shut the scripture and then looked up at his hostess, whose eyes were glistening with tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "Your voice is deep and soft, like velvet. It reminded me of my father."

Lucas smiled. "What would happen next?"

She chuckled, "Oh, he'd usually go about and give some small homily or something concerning what was just read. And then, we would go clean the table."

"I see," Lucas responded. "Well, I'm not one for sermonizing – unless Bill is."

Avery waved his hands. "Not me."

Jeanette smiled. "Then we shall let the passage be a sermon in itself. God is with us. That is sermon enough."

"Here, here!" Bill responded, but Lucas simply nodded.


Lucas excused himself after helping with the clean-up, leaving Bill and Jeanette alone.

"It's getting late, so I guess I should leave. Early day tomorrow." Avery heard the words as he spoke them, his voice shaking a little as he walked to the door holding her hand.

"Thank you for coming, Bill. And stop worrying. Lucas is going to be fine. He just needs some time."

"Speaking of time..." Avery began, walking toward Jeanette and gently touching her cheek with his fingers. "This only comes around once a year." Looking above them, he pointed her toward some mistletoe that had mysteriously made its way over her door.

Jeanette smiled wryly. "Why, Mr. Avery. However, did that get there?"

Bill smirked. "I couldn't say. But we best not let it go to waste."

Jeanette smiled and then closed her eyes as Bill slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Quickly ending the caress, he was surprised when she grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a longer kiss. His ears were still ringing when they stepped apart.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he stated cheerfully as he touched her cheek once more and then turned to go. After closing the door, Aucoin leaned on it.

"I'm happy for you."

The words startled her out of her reverie as she realized Lucas had reentered the room.

"I was starting to think he didn't like me," she replied as she walked forward and took Bouchard's arm. "Let's sit for a minute. Some tea, perhaps?"

"Yes. Please." Lucas sat at the table and watched, smiling as she hummed a sweet tune while working. After bringing two cups to the table, they enjoyed their beverage in silence for a while.

"Now that we are alone, tell me how you are really feeling. We haven't spoken much since you've been here." A pause followed her request, and Bouchard cleared his throat before meeting her eyes.

"The problem is, I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel. I know the emotions were there. I wouldn't have been engaged to her if not. But, I can't recall them and have some guilt feelings about that.

How are you supposed to feel when you lose someone that is so important in your life? Someone you were going to share your life with?"

Jeanette reached over and took his hand in hers. "Lucas, everyone is different. We all cope with a loss in our own way. I can't tell you how to feel, but I can tell you what I went through. When I lost Jean Pierre, I had many different feelings- all at once and over time- and that is perfectly normal. I eventually learned to live with the loss. With everything you have been through in the last year, I'm not surprised that, at least for now, you feel nothing at all. Give yourself some grace. Grieving isn't set in stone."

"Do you think I will ever remember?" His voice was soft as he posed the question.

"I don't know. I will say I certainly hope so. Because what the two of you had was rare and beautiful."

A thoughtful nod followed, and Lucas finished his drink. "Thank you. I think I'll turn in now. Dinner was wonderful."

"I'll see you in the morning," Jeanette responded as she watched him return to his room, then left the cups in the sink to deal with tomorrow before turning in herself.


"How could you?!"

King Alexei was livid concerning his daughter's condition, speaking to her in such a harsh and loud manner that several times, he needed to be told to quieten down.

"I will not be quiet!" he said to the Queen. "We sent our daughter to North America to provide for her and our granddaughter's safety, and she ends up giving her virtue to some man she's not even married to? Do you know the effect this news will have on the citizenry? They rely on us to set a moral example! I cannot believe you would do such a thing."

By now, sobbing, Tilly could only repeat over and over again how sorry she was to disappoint her father. She also managed to get an "I didn't mean to…" out once while her brother tried to console her.

"Who is he?!" the king demanded. "Who is this jackal that would take such liberties with the Princess of Dashma? I shall see him ruined for this!"

"No!" Tilly cried out, immediately receiving a warm embrace from Gregori.

"Enough, Alexei! She's our daughter!"

"She's a princess!" the king replied, narrowing his eyes. "Did you even know this man?"

"Father!" Gregori said.

"It was me," Michael replied, causing the entire room to go silent save Charlotte's gasp and Tilly's attempt to counter. Only she couldn't find the words. She was too shocked to say anything but just listened as Michael spun the tale he thought would be most believable.

"When I returned from Spain, and Tilly and I knew we were free, it was like a dream come true, and I confess, I acted inappropriately toward her."

"Inappropriately, how?" Gregori said, his face becoming red at the thought anyone would harm his sister.

"Perhaps inappropriate was not the right word. Things got out of our control and, well….I'm sorry, but my intent from the moment I returned was that I would make everything right by Ottilia and that we would be married. In fact, we were going to save the news for Christmas day, but I don't think she will mind me telling you now – I've asked Tilly to marry me, and she has said yes. In fact, here is her ring – fresh from the Jewelers sized and ready for her most beautiful fingers."

Michael took Tilly's hand and slipped the ruby and diamond ring that Lucas had bought for her at Tiffany's over her finger.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I never meant for things to happen like this, and I take full responsibility."

Alexei's expression remained cold toward Melrose and Tilly as he glared at them both, calculating the time in his mind when he knew Michael had arrived in the States to determine how far along she was. "You must marry quickly before she begins to show…"

"Father!" Tilly finally said.

"Do not worry, my child," Alexei said. "What's done is done. We shall not put you to shame. A private ceremony with only the closest family invited at St. John's Cathedral in February. That should give you time to make the arrangements. Until then, Melrose, you are not to touch her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your liege."

"Charlotte, we have guests to attend to. Gregori, when she is able, please see to it that your sister returns safely to her room. I'm disappointed, Tilly. But I forgive you. Make it right."

Gregori watched as his parents and then Michael filed out of the room and noticed a strange glint in Michael's eyes as he did so.

"No wonder you seemed out of sorts," he said softly, brushing Tilly's blonde waves out of her face and then offering her an embroidered handkerchief to dry her face.

"I've never seen him so angry," she whispered, still shaken by her father's reaction.

"He had no right to treat you that way," Gregori said. "I shall speak to him."

"No," Tilly replied. "Leave it alone."

"Anything you wish."

There was a knock at the door and Gregori stood, accepting a glass of ginger ale for Tilly from one of the family's servants. He handed it to his sister, who had mostly calmed down.

"So….you and Michael. You're engaged."

Tilly looked at Gregori but said nothing; she then looked down at her hand. "It would appear."

Gregori narrowed his eyes. "What about that other fellow…Lucas Bouchard? I thought you were sweet on him."

Tilly played nervously with the ring for a moment, reality finally sinking in as to what Michael had maneuvered. She had no intent on marrying that man but wanted to deal with him before she broke the news to her family and took responsibility for her own actions. "I'd like to go to my room now if you don't mind."

"Certainly," Gregori replied. "Can you stand?"

"I'm fine," Tilly said sadly.


A few hours later, Tilly was still awake, her mind reeling from the day's events. After tossing and turning in bed, she decided to get a warm cup of milk to help her sleep. Putting on her robe, she quietly made her way through the house and to the kitchen, where she silently placed the pan on the burner. She watched and waited for it to steam.

Shocked by her father's reaction, she considered how it was perhaps good that things happened as they had. He had calmed when Michael spoke – but had it been any other man, particularly someone like Lucas whom he had never met and was not, to her knowledge, of noble descent, it would have been terrible. Lucas deserved only love, not disdain – even from a king. She began to feel angry.

Turning off the pot, Tilly poured the milk into a teacup and carefully carried it into the library, where she hoped to find a book to put her to sleep. She'd only had a couple of sips when she heard footsteps. Looking up, she saw it was Michael.

"You're up late," he said, stopping at the door.

She shut the book she was perusing and set it aside. "We are not getting married," she responded, taking off the ring and reaching it toward him.

Michael smirked. "You seem to think you have a choice in this matter."

"I'm sorry?!"

"You were about five seconds from being disowned by the king, and I saved your bacon."

"Did you now?"

"Yes. Do you really think that the king would approve of Bouchard?"

"Lucas is a fine man!"

"Lucas is a con man and a lunatic."

Tilly stood. "We are not having this conversation," she said, moving toward the door.

Michael grabbed her by the arm. "Yes, we are – because you refused to accept the reality of this situation, which is you are stuck. You chose to sleep with a man whom you barely knew, and he left you as soon as he had….sown his seed. And now, you're saddled with his bastard child…."

Tilly reached out to slap him, but he stopped her.

"Who would have ended up penniless on the street, along with its mother, had I not decided to exercise forgiveness for your betrayal and step in and claim responsibility."

"I did not need you to step in. Lucas will be back, and we will not be penniless."

"Is that what you think? Okay, fine. So, I go tomorrow and tell your father the truth – that his daughter had played the whore and that I was just trying to save your honor – what then? Are you going to the Bouchards? Do you really think that pretender of a mother of his is going to appreciate her son's whore showing up at the house?"

"How dare you!"

"And what about the kingdom? You know how precarious things are there – one hint at immorality and the whole thing could come crashing down – families thrown out on the street – slaughtered like your cousins in Russia – all because their princess couldn't control herself? The enemies of Dashma would have a field day with that one, and you, your child, Bouchard, would be destroyed. Is that what you want?"

Tilly moved to the window, tears forming in her eyes.

"You messed up. I get it. I did, too. But you can fix it by not fighting this. Wear my ring. Be my wife. I promise to make sure you and Bouchard's child are well taken care of. I will claim the child as my own and ensure that he or she receives the best of everything -a future. I know you don't love me. You love him - but in time, perhaps you can grow to love me. We could be good together, Tilly. Or, you could destroy it all. Your life. Bouchard's. This child. Your parents. Dashma. It could all go to ruin if you make the wrong choice. Please be reasonable. It's the only way."

Tilly closed her eyes, pressing the salty water that had accumulated there outside her socket and down over her cheeks. Oh, how her heart ached. She wanted one thing and one thing only, and yet that ever becoming a reality seemed in that moment as if it were a million miles away. She didn't want this. But was Michael right? Was it her only choice? She felt so alone and so confused. She prayed for a sign, but it seemed Heaven was silent.


Lucas's smile widened as he pulled Tilly to himself for a kiss, but before their lips met, he heard voices murmuring somewhere in the distance. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Once the fog cleared in his head, he realized he had been having a wonderful dream and, sadly, was now awake. His dream was of his proposal, and she had assented to marry him. If only things could be that way. Maybe soon.

It may have only been a dream, but the voices coming from another part of the house were real enough. Lucas stretched and then rose from the bed to begin his toilette. It was the day after Christmas, and he must soon make some decisions about his life. Glancing in the mirror, he exited his room and made his way to the front of the house, now recognizing the voices as Jeanette and Bill's.

"I was beginning to worry," Jeanette pronounced as she lowered the newspaper when he entered the room. "You are normally an early riser."

"I must have needed some extra sleep last night. Good morning...both of you." His eyes quickly noticed that she was reading The New York Times as he sat across the table.

"It's a beautiful day," Bill replied with a wide smile in Lucas's direction before his eyes once again settled on Aucoin. Their feelings for each other were obvious, and Lucas couldn't be happier for both of them.

"The Times?" Lucas questioned, looking at the paper in her hands.

"Oh, yes. Bill knows how I love to keep up with societal events, so he brings it to me now and then from the newsstand in the city. Tea? Some toast, perhaps?" She asked as she lay the paper on the table and stood.

"Yes, please." Normally, he offered to make his own, but she had already corrected him a couple of times, telling him she wanted to take care of him while he was there, so he decided to make her happy. "May I?" he asked as he reached for the Times.

"Yes, of course," Jeanette replied, turning back to her counter.

"I was trying to decide what we should do today..." Lucas heard Bill say before his voice faded into the background as Lucas read the headline.

Royal Engagement.it read, just above a photo of his beloved standing next to Michael Melrose and her father, the king.

"The royal family of the Kingdom of Dashma are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter Ottilia to Michael Melrose, famed financier of Melrose Industries in England. The marriage is scheduled to occur on February 14th and is expected to solidify the kingdom's security in the region. Dashma serves as a bulwark against Bolshevism and has been in a state of civil war since the end of the Great War…"

The words blurred on the page and Lucas could read no further, lowering the paper down to the table, his face turned ashen.

"Lucas?"

"Uh...yes?"

"I was asking how that sounded to you?" Avery repeated, his smile fading at the dazed look on Bouchard's face.

Bouchard didn't respond to the question but stood. "I'm afraid I won't be able to join you two today," he said, his voice shaking. "I need to return to my room."

"But your tea..." Jeanette began.

"None today," he replied before hurrying from the room, obviously shaken.

"What just happened?" Bill said, picking up the newspaper and wondering what the man might have seen to cause this response.

Gazing after Lucas with a cup in her hand, Jeanette shook her head. "I wish I knew. Let him cool down a moment. He'll probably come out and apologize when he's finished stewing. I guess you will be sharing tea with me this morning?"

Bill's frown was her response as she once more looked toward the hall and wondered what had set him off.


In his room, Lucas sat, trying to catch his breath.

Tilly and Melrose were engaged.

He had only been gone a month, and she didn't even like the man. Something niggled in the back of his mind, but it was all right there in black and white, so it must be true. What was he to think about it, and what did it mean about them?

It means you weren't enough…again.

Bouchard squeezed his eyes shut as his heart began to pound with the painful realization that he had lost his one connection to happiness. His only source of hope.

Walking to the bureau, he opened drawers and began throwing his clothes onto the bed and then into his suitcase- so unlike the normally neat and tidy man that he was- slamming it shut when he was finished.

He needed to leave. He needed to get away from this place – away from the tormenting thoughts in his mind – away from his friends – away from everyone. He had no idea where he was going at the time. He just needed to go.

Avery and Aucoin were surprised to see Lucas reenter the kitchen with his suitcase in his hand, his hair a mess. Both stood.

"You're not leaving?" Jeanette said, puzzled by the look on Bouchard's face.

"I'm afraid I am," he said without making eye contact. "It's time for me to go. Thank you- both- for the help and the hospitality."

"But Lucas..."

"I need to go. Please understand."

"But I don't. You've just arrived here. Will you keep in touch?" Her concern was palpable.

"I'll try..." was his reply, not calming her fears.

"Let me drive you..." Bill began as he reached for his keys.

Lucas finally looked up. "My car is just down the street."

"Oh, that's right. You drove," Avery responded, trying to think of something else to say.

Meanwhile, Lucas leaned in to kiss Jeanette's cheek. "Thank you for trying, Jeanette. And thank you for always being my friend. I wish you every happiness for this new year."

"Lucas…."

He turned to Bill. "And to you as well, Bill. Take care of her," he said, shaking Avery's stunned hand with haste before exiting the house, leaving the troubled couple staring out the door as he made his way to his car.


Jenny Grant-Bouchard was sitting on the floor in the living room of her parent's home in Montreal when she received the news. Jo and Luke were busy playing around the Bouchard Christmas tree, enjoying the aftermath of the most lavish Christmas that either had ever experienced, despite their mother's warning the grandparents not to spoil them. And Nathan was sitting on the sofa going through documents from his latest case when Martin picked up the newspaper.

"Helen," he said quietly.

Something about the tone in his voice caused all to look his way since, despite knowing Lucas was safe in New Orleans, they were all still very concerned for him.

"What is it, dear?" Helen asked, walking up beside him as he sat in his easy chair. Martin revealed to her an article from the Montreal Gazette's financial section. "Melrose Industries Vice President to marry Princess."

"What on earth?!" she exclaimed, first reading the notice and then looking at her husband with a somewhat stunned expression.

"What is it, mother?" Jenny asked.

Helen swallowed. "Ottilia Rasmussen is marrying that Michael Melrose on Valentine's Day in Dashma."

"What?!" Jenny exclaimed, getting up from her place and then making her way to her father and snatching the paper from his hands. "She can't do this!"

Helen shook her head. "Well, it looks like she's doing it. I never took her to be a fraud."

"She isn't, mother! There has to be some sort of mistake. She wouldn't do this to Lucas. She wouldn't marry Melrose when she knows she's –"

"JENNY!" Nathan exclaimed, husband and wife both shooting one another a look that immediately caught the Bouchards' attention. Lucas's sister lowered her eyes.

"I need to call her. This has to be a mistake," she said softly.

Helen looked at Martin who set the rest of the newspaper down. "A minute ago, you said that Tilly wouldn't marry Melrose because she's… Jenny, why wouldn't Tilly marry Melrose? Is there something you haven't told us?"

Jenny raised her eyes toward Helen, and from the expression on her face, Lucas's mother knew. "I'm going to be a grandmother. Aren't I?"

Martin sat up in his chair and looked over toward Nathan, whose own expression and shrug confirmed that it was true.

"Please don't be angry with them, Mother."

"Angry?" Helen said. "I'm thrilled that after losing Elizabeth, Lucas found someone whom he could love so much that….wait a minute, Lucas didn't know this before he left, did he?"

Jenny shook her head. "He doesn't know."

Helen turned her head toward Martin. "We need to call the Falkenberg estate and talk some sense into that woman. Marry Melrose when she and my son are going to be parents. Never!"

"What are you going to say?" Jenny asked.

"I don't know. But your brother isn't here to fight for her, so we shall do the fighting for him. We'll just show Mr. Michael Melrose that he is not to touch that which isn't his, and that includes our grandchild."