by Erica Vetsch
Melissa nodded. “Noah, I don’t deny you should have the right to marry whomever you choose, and I wish you success in winning the girl you say you love. But having been in this situation myself”—she smiled at Jonathan—“I know I would’ve been devastated and ashamed if I’d heard secondhand that my fiancé had broken the engagement. Please, at least meet the girl and tell her yourself. She might be grateful, and she might even be sympathetic to your cause.”
Eli swallowed his last bite. “What about the party?”
Melissa’s mouth firmed up. “If the invitations to a party have already gone out, it’s too late to call things off.” She turned to Grandfather who still fumed, glaring at Noah. “I wish you had informed me before now. I would’ve offered to help with the preparations.”
“Don’t be daft.” He cleared his throat and softened his tone. “Michaels has it under control, I’m sure. I wanted it to be a surprise. You shouldn’t be working so hard, not in your condition.” His voice softened. “You have to take care of yourself.”
A delicate blush colored her cheeks, and her eyes went soft.
Jonathan stood and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Noah, Eli, you can be the first to congratulate us. Another Kennebrae will join us late this fall.”
Eli surged to his feet and enveloped Melissa in a hug.
Noah offered his congratulations, but his mind seethed against his grandfather.
“I can’t believe you would do this to your family, Noah. My reputation is on the line, millions of dollars at stake, and you’re just thinking about yourself.” Grandfather wheeled himself from the room.
Jonathan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Noah. You know how he is. He’ll get over it.”
Noah shook his head. “I wish I could do as he wants, but I can’t. I can’t marry someone when I love another.” He imagined Annie’s face when he met her at the dock. His lips twitched. Perhaps he should wear an old pair of boots.
nineteen
Annie gathered her belongings around her. What would her father say? At least the trip had been smooth, all traces of the previous day’s storm washed away. The Genevieve, the private yacht of one of her father’s friends—at least that’s what one of the crew told her before showing her to the forward salon and shutting her inside—slid through the channel, the gulls dipping and wheeling around the steel girders of the bridge.
Had Hazel given Imogen Annie’s letter explaining everything? Would Imogen, so kind and gentle, be able to forgive Annie for deceiving her? Would Hazel be able to explain all that Annie couldn’t?
She leaned close to the porthole and took in the familiar skyline. A bittersweet smile twisted her lips when they passed the ferry dock. How long ago it seemed that she’d forced herself onto the ferry to begin her journey to Sutton Island.
The vessel eased into a berth. Annie stood and adjusted her hat, tugged her gloves on tighter, and picked up her valise. She could hardly believe how little she cared that she was on a boat. Evidently a broken heart was an excellent cure for an unreasonable fear. She supposed she had Noah Kennebrae to thank for helping her get over her terror of boats and water … and she had him to thank for the broken heart, too.
Stop it, Anastasia. Stop thinking about him and concentrate on what you’re going to say to your father.
Even the gangplank gave her only a moment’s unease. She nodded to the crewman and headed down the incline. Her boots hit the dock, her valise bumping against her leg.
A hand grabbed her elbow. “Anastasia.” Her father’s voice was like a breath of icy air in the late-June afternoon. “This way.”
So, he’d come to meet her. She swallowed and dared a look at his face. His expression was as cold as his voice. His grip tightened, as if he feared she would disappear if he let go.
“Hello, Father.” Guilt at the trouble and worry she’d caused him sat like a sodden stone in her chest. Her apology rushed out. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve—”
“For goodness’ sake, Anastasia, not here. Wait until we get home.” He took her valise and tugged her up the dock.
She trotted along behind, trying to hold her hat on. Shame heated her cheeks. No welcome, no thankfulness for her return. Instead she got a frigid reception and a reprimand for showing emotion in public.
They stopped beside a shiny new automobile. A chauffeur in a long white duster and driving gloves stood beside the curb. He stepped up to take the bag from her father’s hand.
Her father held the back door and motioned to Anastasia. “Get in.”
“Is this yours?” Anastasia gawked at the gleaming black paint and the shining windows. Her father had been skeptical of the newfangled automobiles and had resisted purchasing one before now.
“Of course. It arrived just after you left.” He pursed his lips. “It won’t bite you. Get in.”
Anastasia gathered her skirts and ducked to enter the rear seat. Plush velvet yielded to her touch. She tried to make herself smaller when her father seated himself beside her. She couldn’t help noticing the brass and wood, the wool carpet, even the crystal bud vases hanging on the divider between the front and back windows on each side. Work conveyance or not, her father had spared no expense when he finally decided to purchase an auto.
The chauffeur stepped to the front of the car and bent down to crank the engine to life. They jounced over the rough streets, heading up toward Michaelton House.
Anastasia gathered her courage for another try. She licked her dry lips. “Father, I apologize for running away. It was heedless of me. I should have stayed and spoken to you about your plans for me. I’m sorry I caused you such worry.”
His fists tightened on his knees. Not once did he look her direction. “You have caused me worry, as well as a great deal of trouble. I should’ve known you’d do something harebrained like this. Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me? Do you know the jeopardy you put my business reputation in? I did not enter into your marriage contract lightly, nor do I enjoy being made to look a fool. I’m lucky Abraham didn’t cancel the contracts when he heard of your childish prank. It’s a good thing your groom has been away recently.”
“The wedding is still going to happen?” Anastasia’s insides turned to water. “But I thought—”
“You didn’t think, that’s what. Yes, the wedding will happen, and you will be under lock and key until it does. When I think of all the trouble you’ve caused me, all the maneuvering I’ve had to do, I could shake you. I couldn’t keep the story out of the papers. The police treated it like a kidnapping. Once I knew where you were and when you’d be returning home, I had to pay a steep ‘fee’ to an insufferable newspaper editor to have an article published saying you’d gone to visit friends. I looked like an imbecile, claiming not to know the traveling plans of my own daughter. But better that than the truth leaking out. From this moment on, you will not set foot outside Michaelton House unless you are in my presence. You will keep to your room and be thankful someone is still willing to marry you. If your fiancé saw you right now, he’d no doubt call off the wedding. I’m ashamed to admit you’re my daughter, clothed like a servant, doing menial work. Your engagement party is tonight, and you will dress appropriately. After all, your betrothed will be present, and I’ll be announcing your engagement.”
Anastasia shrank back into her corner of the seat, her courage and will draining from her like beans from a sack. Nothing had changed in all the weeks she’d been away.
A fatalistic malaise came over her, pouring through the cracks of her broken heart. What did it matter now? The man she loved was marrying another. She might as well do the same.
Her room was just as she had left it. White furniture with pale gold accents, light blue drapery on the canopy bed, gold rugs, white marble fireplace. The only thing missing was Hazel in the rocker. The emptiness enveloped Anastasia like a cold shawl.
She unpinned her hat, tugging it off and letting her hair straggle from its knot. The clock on the mantel ticked l
oudly announcing the time—just after five. Anastasia looked down at her humble dress. Brown wool skirt, sensible white blouse, unadorned brown jacket. So suitable for her life on Sutton Island, and so very wrong for a formal party in Duluth society. She decided against ringing for a maid to assist her.
During her preparations she prayed, tossed about in spirit between obedience to her father and brokenhearted loss and betrayal. She strove to cling to the serenity she had found at Sutton Island Light.
“Lord, thank You for being my strong tower. Help me to obey my father. Give me the strength to hold myself together when I meet this man I’m supposed to marry. Help me be gracious to him and obedient to my father.”
The aromas of lilac sachets and cedar greeted her when she pulled open the wardrobe. Lavish gowns in silks and velvets hung on padded hangers, sleeves stuffed with tissue to hold their shape. What apparel would suit an engagement party? The fabrics, cool and soft, wrapped around her work-roughened fingertips. She’d need gloves tonight. Her gaze settled on a navy blue gown with golden stars sprinkled over the skirts and bodice. Perfect.
Two hours later, the butler knocked on her door. “Mr. Michaels requests your presence downstairs to receive your guests, miss.”
Annie scanned her appearance once more, checking the heavily coiled braid and ostrich feathers at the back of her head, touching the pearl choker at her throat. With a final tug to her gloves, she opened the hallway door.
Male voices rose up the curved staircase, echoing against the ceiling and bouncing off the marble entryway.
She took extra care descending, stopping at the landing to bolster her courage before turning to go down the last, wide flight to the hall below. Somewhere down there, her husband-to-be waited. With a resigned and broken heart that longed to be back on Sutton Island, she walked down the stairs.
Halfway down, the voices stopped and the five men in the hall looked up.
Anastasia found herself staring into the blue eyes of Noah Kennebrae.
twenty
Anastasia froze on the stairway, her hand coming to her mouth too late to stop the cry of distress. It had never entered her head that her father might have the Kennebraes on the guest list. She tried to ignore how devastatingly handsome he looked in evening dress, how dear and familiar his features were to her. Did this mean he knew her fiancé? Worse yet, could he possibly be related to him?
He too seemed dumbstruck. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Finally, he whispered, “Annie?”
The sound of her name on his lips shot through her like sparks. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but look for the woman who must be his betrothed. But the only other woman present was on the arm of a tall fellow who bore a slight resemblance to Ni—Noah Kennebrae.
Her father stalked to the bottom of the stairs and slammed his hands onto his waist. “Go back upstairs, Anastasia.” His brows lowered, giving him a thundercloud look. “These people are leaving. According to the Kennebraes, the engagement is off. Noah Kennebrae asked for permission to tell you himself, but I won’t allow him to humiliate you like this.” He made shooing motions for her to go back up.
Her father’s voice shook with anger when he turned toward the Kennebraes. “You’ll rue the day you went back on your word, Kennebrae. I’ll see the entire state knows you’ve broken our agreement.”
Noah moved to the foot of the stairs until he stood directly in front of Anastasia. Tears pricked her eyes and heat skittered up her arms at having him so close. “You’re Anastasia Michaels?”
She nodded, still unable to speak. She was so confused she couldn’t catch and hold a single thought.
Noah turned to her father. “Sir, could you give us a few minutes alone to sort things out? Please?”
“Never. You’ve made yourself plain enough.” Her father pounded up the steps and tugged on her arm, but she stood fast.
After a false start, she found her voice. “Nick … I mean, Noah. What are you doing here? What is my father talking about?” She moved down until she stood eye level with him, taking in every line of his face, searching for answers. “Tell me what’s going on here.”
He blinked and rubbed the palm of his hand across the nape of his neck. “If I knew, I’d tell you. It seems we’ve all gotten our lines crossed. Annie, I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here. I was sick at heart when you weren’t on the ferry this morning.” He turned to Phillip Michaels. “Sir, we really need a few moments in private.”
Father wasn’t ready to be rational. “How dare you humiliate us this way! After all the work I went to getting Anastasia here in time for the party. I even borrowed your grandfather’s yacht to go fetch her from that wretched island. Your grandfather promised the wedding would take place, no matter what, and you’re in my house not five minutes before you want to call it all off? Get out of my house, the whole lot of you.”
Before anyone could move, the butler opened the front door to a dozen or so party guests. Women in satin and jewels and men in evening dress, laughing, talking, and anticipating an enjoyable occasion, poured into the massive foyer.
Anastasia’s father held fast to her elbow, his hand shaking. She dared a look up at him. His face set in hard lines, and his jaw muscles worked. They were trapped.
Anastasia’s knees turned to pudding. She never should have come home. Once more she’d let her father down.
“Congratulations, Noah.” A man with a florid complexion and the shoulders of a bear smacked Noah on the back. “‘Bout time you put your neck into the matrimonial noose.”
Noah took Anastasia’s hand. He gave it a hard squeeze, as if to say, “Play along and we’ll sort it out later.”
“Thank you, Titus. Allow me to introduce my bride-to-be, Anastasia Michaels. You know her father, Phillip.” Noah flashed Anastasia a loaded look. “If you’ll excuse us, we have a few matters to talk about privately.”
“Oh no you don’t, my boy. You’ll have enough time to bill and coo later. Come meet some friends of mine.” The man named Titus pulled Noah toward the door.
Noah glanced back over his shoulder as he was tugged away.
A beautiful brown-haired young woman introduced herself as Melissa Kennebrae, welcoming Annie to the Kennebrae family. Anastasia shook hands with Noah’s brothers and briefly with Abraham Kennebrae himself. His dark eyes pierced her, taking her measure.
Father grabbed her elbow and leaned down to whisper harshly into her ear, “What is the meaning of this, Anastasia? Why did he call you Annie?” Father glowered at her, his eyes like hot coals. “Do you know each other?”
She swallowed, feeling as if she’d missed a step in the dark.
“I’m waiting for an explanation, Anastasia.”
Rebellion flashed in her chest. “So am I. Why didn’t you think to tell me the name of the man you were forcing me to marry? If I’d known …” Would it have changed anything? What game was Noah playing? Surely after all that had passed between them, he didn’t think a wedding could take place? How could a marriage founded on lies and secrets and guilt ever work?
Anastasia found herself standing in a kind of receiving line, accepting congratulations and teasing remarks. Her father stood between her and Noah, his forbidding glare reminding her that a reckoning was coming. She’d never wanted to escape more. But where could she go?
“The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.” Lord, help me. Be my strong tower in the middle of this storm.
More guests flocked in, and Anastasia got separated from her father and Noah. Everywhere she turned, another smiling face offered her best wishes.
How could this be straightened out? Duluth society filled the house, and not a soul knew of the lies, the sneaking around, the secret masquerade that stood like a wall between her and any future happiness. And Noah—when he thought this out, when he remembered how they’d deceived one another—she was sure he’d go through with calling things off.
As society matrons gathe
red around her, Anastasia watched Noah from the corner of her eye. He spoke to her father, whose eyes narrowed. But finally, when Father stalked down the hallway to his office, Noah followed close behind. No doubt Noah intended to explain all, after which someone would make an announcement that would end this farce.
She watched that door, ignoring everyone around her. After what seemed an age, Anastasia’s father returned, looking like he’d bitten a wasp. Though she expected him to swoop down on her and hustle her upstairs with loud threats, he merely nodded to her.
Noah emerged, his face set in a determined expression. He marched straight up to Anastasia and took her hand. Ignoring comments and gasps from the onlookers, he pulled her down the hall to the room he’d just left. Anastasia had no choice but to trot in his wake.
Once inside the office, he released her hand and shut the door. He leaned against it and crossed his arms.
Anastasia didn’t know what to think. So she just stood beside her father’s desk and waited.
“You look beautiful. Blue suits you.”
Her tongue sprang to life. “What a ridiculous thing to say at a time like this. What are we going to do? Half of Duluth seems to think we’re getting married.” Pain stabbed her heart.
He laughed. “Good. If I know my grandfather, by tomorrow, the other half will think so, too.”
He’d obviously lost his wits. She twisted the diamond bracelet on her wrist, sliding it along her satin glove. “I’ve never seen my father so angry. He’ll never forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about your father. I’ve had a word with him, and I think he understands. At least to the extent that he would rather have the marriage go ahead than everything to come out. He went to arrange for the toasts to be made. In fact, we only have a few minutes to get our lines uncrossed before someone breaks down this door and hauls us out to raise a glass of punch.”