Once he returned to the hall, Garrett located Julian sitting alone in his darkened room. He swiftly strode across the carpeted floor and flung open the curtains. “Enough damned brooding, Brother. You’ve been in here feeling sorry for yourself for days. Shouldn’t you have returned to parliament by now?”
“We are awaiting Peel’s decision on when to reconvene, which could be later in February,” Julian muttered.
“I need you. Come to the library immediately,” Garrett demanded.
Julian blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light flooding through the window. “What is it?”
“Only the fact that our lives are going to change from this moment forward. Well, mine more than any other. I need all hands on deck. Where is our father?” Garrett didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped into the hall and bellowed, “Gordon, Peter, Thomas…one of you, come at once!”
The youngest footman, Thomas, appeared. “Yes, Master Garrett?”
“Where is the earl?”
“Napping in his room, sir.”
“Then rouse him at once and inform him that I wish to see him in the main library, right away, lad. Go.”
Julian stood. “Now I’m starting to worry. Tell me this has nothing to do with Aidan. I cannot take any more dreadful news.”
“No, not Aidan. I should have clarified at the beginning. I beg your pardon.”
Julian blew out a relieved breath. “You are right about one thing: I’ve brooded long enough. I wanted to ask if you would come with me to see Riordan. I started to write I don’t know how many letters, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I should tell him about Aidan in person.”
Damn. “I don’t believe I should. The reason will become clear as soon as I explain.”
“Of course,” Julian replied.
They both headed to the main library and found their father rubbing his eyes. “What is it?” he asked sleepily. Julian and the earl took a seat; Garrett remained standing.
“Oh, hell. He’s pacing,” Julian muttered.
“I have a daughter. Her name is Megan,” Garrett blurted. Both his father and his brother stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. “I had no idea of her existence. She is fourteen, soon to be fifteen, I imagine, and is with her mother at Alberta Eaton’s residence.”
His father rubbed his forehead. “Good God. Fourteen? That would make you about eighteen when she was conceived. Explain.”
Garrett removed his greatcoat and tossed it onto the settee. “It happened the summer Sir Walter had his niece and her younger friend for a visit. The friend was Abigail Wharton and…”
“Wait. I remember. The young ladies attended a dinner,” his father said. “Good God.”
Exasperated, Garrett ran his hands through his long hair. “Yes. They did. Abigail and I met nearly every day. We fell in love.” There. He admitted it aloud. The pain in his heart grew more acute the more he revealed to his father and brother. He held nothing back and did not paint himself in a good light. “In conclusion, I thought it best to push her away. The curse. I had vowed never to become involved or fall in love. Ever.”
Julian arched an eyebrow. “But you did become involved. Very much so. If you say you loved her, why—”
“Besides being an arrogant fool, I was young and irresponsible. Completely out of control. Stupid.” Garrett paced some more. “In essence, I broke both our hearts.”
His father shook his head sadly. “You should have come to me, Garrett. My God, why didn’t the young woman seek you out when she found herself with child?”
Garrett explained in a few short sentences about her arranged marriage and subsequent widowhood. “On the way home, I decided that I will bring them here for two nights—if they agree, as I have yet to ask them—not only for them to meet you, but a situation has arisen.” He explained about Jonas and Megan in the gatehouse.
“Well, that is certainly an unexpected development. And what will happen going forward?” Julian asked. “Regarding your daughter and her mother?”
“I have no bloody idea.” And he didn’t. “The curse is still at the forefront of my mind, and has a firm hold on my soul. Were Abbie and Megan spared because I had not been with them all these years?” Garrett began pacing once again. His father and brother exchanged dubious looks.
His father replied, “It is a distinct possibility. Or perhaps the curse is broken.”
Was the curse indeed broken? Finding true love was the supposed caveat. Was it true love that they had shared? It had certainly felt like it. Nothing he’d experienced since came close. Bloody hell, his life would never be the same.
One thing became apparent: the kiss in the orangery had proved that passion still sparked between them—and that could only prove to make this situation more complicated.
Chapter 7
As promised, Garrett arrived promptly at nine. Emotionally drained to the point of prostration, Abbie was not up for another angry encounter this morning. Last night she took her dinner on a tray in her room, then promptly fell asleep, not awaking until dawn.
Mrs. Claxton showed Garrett into the parlor. His wild hair was ruffled from the breeze and the disheveled look made him more attractive. He must have walked, for his freckled cheeks were ruddy from the winter wind. The housekeeper offered to take his coat, but Garrett waved her off. “Thank you, but I am not staying long.” Mrs. Claxon curtseyed, then left the room, closing the door behind her.
“I am not up for another confrontation,” Abbie said. Her voice sounded weary. She certainly felt it.
He removed his gloves. “Neither am I. Pack your things.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You and Megan are coming with me to Wollstonecraft Hall.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do not think you can order me about—”
“Easy. Allow me to phrase it more tactfully: Will you and Megan do me the honor of coming for a short visit? Father and Julian are eager to meet you both.”
Abbie gave him a dubious look. “You’ve told them about us?”
“I’ve told them everything. We tend to share secrets in our family, at least eventually. Come for a visit; I think it prudent that we place a little distance between Megan and Jonas. Even if it is only for a couple of days.”
Well, he spoke sense there. “I don’t want to hurt Alberta’s feelings, or Jonas’s.”
Garrett clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m sure that Alberta will abide by our decision once you tell her of the details. Their relationship is inappropriate. Bad enough he is ten years older, Jonas is…has…emotional and intellectual development problems. You do agree?” Abbie nodded, though reluctantly. “And beyond such, she deserves to meet her family. Her grandfather, uncle, and, ultimately, her cousins.”
Abbie clasped her hands, wringing them agitatedly. “This is happening far too quickly.”
“Let us say that you both stay at the hall for two nights only. Give what passed between Megan and Jonas a chance to cool. It will give us a chance to talk to her, and Alberta the chance to speak to Jonas.” Garrett placed two fingers under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Besides, I want to come to know our daughter. To begin an acquaintance. You may stay longer at the hall if you wish, or return here, but I will come to know her.”
Abbie exhaled. “I suppose two nights wouldn’t hurt. But I should warn you: Megan is still angry and annoyed at both of us.”
Garrett stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger, leaving a trail of heated flame in its wake. “Understandable. I do not expect her to embrace me warmly. I will not demand her affection.” His finger trailed across her bottom lip. “I also wish to know you better. Let us put aside bitter thoughts and memories, at least for the next two days. Agreed?”
How could she think straight while he touched her? Megan should meet the earl and viscount. How her daughter would feel about it was anot
her matter. “Agreed.”
“I’ll return after dinner with the carriage. It will give you sufficient time to explain, especially to Alberta.” Garrett dropped his hand and slipped on his gloves. He stared at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her? He seemed to consider it. Her insides fluttered at the prospect. Then he gave her a slight bow and exited the room.
* * * *
The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of drama. Abbie explained to Megan about staying the two nights at Wollstonecraft Hall and she proceeded to indulge in a fit of temper, which proved to Abbie that her daughter was still far too young to cope with certain emotional issues. When she broached the subject of Jonas and their kiss, Megan ran to her room in tears.
Furthermore, fetching her dear friend Alberta to the parlor to discuss this gatehouse kiss proved to be as difficult. They were unlikely friends, considering Alberta was close to seven years older. But Alberta’s uncle, the late Sir Walter Keenan, and Abbie’s father were friends, had served together in the Peninsular War decades ago. Before Alberta’s uncle became a complete hermit, there had been many visits exchanged. The two girls, regardless of the age difference, had become fast friends.
The visit to Sir Walter’s manor house fourteen summers past was the last time Abbie had been in this area. Shortly thereafter, Abbie married Elwyn, and Alberta married the barrister, Reese Eaton, and lived outside of London for close to ten years. They had visited sporadically throughout the decade, but their letter correspondence never abated, nor did the affection and high regard that they held for each other. Today it was being put to the test.
Alberta sat, stunned, as Abbie relayed what Garrett had told her about Jonas and Megan in the gatehouse. “Oh, Lord. And here I said with such confidence that Jonas had never shown any romantic inclinations.”
Abbie passed her dear friend a fresh cup of tea. “He is a man, after all. With a young man’s yearnings, even if he is not sure what it all means.”
Alberta’s hand shook as she clasped the saucer. “I have been dreading this conversation. How to even broach it with Jonas?”
“Perhaps Garrett could speak to him.”
“A fine idea. I will ask Tensbridge to attend as well. He and Jonas have grown close the past couple of months. Jonas looks up to him. I know this is an imposition, but could you deliver a note for me tonight when you go to the hall?”
“Yes, of course.”
Alberta sighed wistfully. “And what do we do about Megan and Jonas? Keep them apart indefinitely? Seems cruel.”
“We will have to set boundaries. Certain rules of engagement. Perhaps Megan will grow out of this; perhaps it is only a girlish infatuation.” Abbie hesitated, taking a small bite from her biscuit and chewing thoughtfully. “Or perhaps she truly loves him, just the way he is. A young girl’s heart can be fickle, but mine never was. Perhaps my daughter is the same.”
“Goodness, are you suggesting they could marry one day?” Alberta’s tone was dubious.
Abbie smiled. “As my daughter pointed out to me not an hour past, she can marry. It is legal. Any girl can at her age, though most rarely do.”
Shocked, Alberta took another sip of tea. “Good heavens, what are they teaching her at that school?”
“The law of the land, I suppose, and, shockingly, twelve is the legal age of consent. Most young women wait to marry until they are eighteen. Do we impose such a restriction? Four years is a long time. However, it may be long enough to see if their love is constant and real.” Abbie reached for another biscuit. “And to see if Megan grows up a little. As it stands today, she is far too immature.”
“Yes, and if she wishes to marry Jonas, she will have to understand and accept his limitations. She would have to be fully able to handle it…and him. Truly, she will have to be the mature one in their relationship, if there is to be one. Oh, what a quandary. On one hand, I would be thrilled at such a union. Alas…” Alberta’s eyebrows knotted with worry.
Alas indeed. What a jumbled mess. Abbie should have stayed in her tidy little bungalow and forgot she ever saw Garrett Wollstonecraft at the sanatorium. It had been impulsive of her to come here—usually not her nature—but their entire past relationship had been impulsive.
Abbie closed her eyes briefly, reliving the kiss in the orangery. The desire between them still subsisted, pulsing with life. She came here to see if the intense love she’d felt for him years past still lingered. It did. She could choose to ignore it, allow it to return to a dormant state. Two days hence, she could hire another coach, return to Standon, and not look back.
But Garrett would never leave her in peace, whether he was physically in the vicinity or not. He’d stormed back into her life with the force of one of those new steam train engines. The only way she could move on was to confront the past and accept the present.
If there could be nothing further between them, better to face it head-on then continue always to wonder what if. It would take an infinite degree of courage. This time she would fight for what she believed in and follow where ever it leads—but remain wary. For she would not survive having her heart broken… again.
* * * *
Garrett arrived promptly at eight o’clock, driving a brougham, no doubt one of many carriages the affluent family owned. He assisted Abbie and Megan into the conveyance; he sat above in the box seat. Taking the reins, he clicked his tongue and the fine black gelding whickered and moved forward at a slow canter. Megan gazed sadly out the window at the Eatons’ residence as it disappeared from view.
“It’s only two nights. We will return to Alberta’s, I promise. Now, will you behave civilly and act as a proper young lady while we stay at the Wollstonecrafts? No pouting or sulking. If you wish me to consider a possible union between you and Jonas, you must discontinue acting like a spoiled young girl. Do you understand?” Abbie kept her tone polite, but firm.
Megan met her gaze, an incredulous look on her flushed face. “Consider? Truly?”
“There is much to discuss, and Garrett Wollstonecraft will be involved in those discussions, but you must prove that you are capable of acting in a grown-up fashion.”
Megan’s eyes glistened. “I will, I promise. I love Jonas to distraction. My feelings will never waver.”
“Well, that remains to be seen. Threatening to marry him without my permission is not the way to go about this.”
Megan lowered her head. “I am sorry, Mama. The thought of never seeing him again upset me so.”
Abbie shook her head. “How dramatic. No one threatened you with never seeing Jonas.”
Frowning, Megan pointed to the front of the brougham, where Garrett sat outside on the bench seat. “He will. You did not see his face when he broke the door down at the gatehouse. Mama, he is scary.”
Abbie bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “Anyone would have been shocked at your brazen behavior. He does have a temper, but I’ve found his anger often vanishes as quickly as it appears. I imagine that he’s the same as I remember.” She paused. Megan should know what kind of man her father is. “Allow me to tell you about Garrett. He is praiseworthy and generous. Do you know he’s been coordinating the renovations at Alberta and Jonas’s home? Even donated building supplies and labor. From what Alberta tells me, he has done it for many of the Wollstonecraft neighbors and tenants if they fell on hardships because of failed crops and the like.” She took her daughter’s hand. “He is a good man. Give him a chance. Give the family a chance.”
Megan sniffled. “All right, Mama. I will try.”
Perhaps she should heed her own words.
Moments later they arrived at the hall. As the sprawling residence came into view, Megan gasped. “What a magnificent house!”
It never failed to impress Abbie. Such a stark difference in style, but for some reason the eclectic divergence worked. Much like the men in the family. Heavens, butterflies formed in
her stomach. She was eighteen all over again, coming to the hall for the first time.
The brougham came to a stop and a number of tall, handsome footmen rushed forward to help them from the carriage and take charge of their small cases. Martin, the butler, stood by the entrance and bowed. “Welcome to Wollstonecraft Hall, Mrs. Hughes, Miss Hughes.”
“Thank you,” Abbie replied.
Garrett came up behind her and laid his hand gently on her back. A roll of heat moved up and down her spine at his touch. “Father and Julian are in the Georgian parlor; it’s the wing that you will be staying in. We’ve set up a small tea as a welcome: sugar biscuits, frosted cakes, and assorted treats. Are you hungry, Megan?”
She whirled about to face Garrett, as she’d been completely caught up in inspecting the ornate Tudor hall. “I adore frosted cakes,” she replied politely.
Good girl. Abbie smiled. Make an effort.
Garrett escorted them to the parlor. When they entered the two men stood, and Abbie was struck by how little both had changed in fourteen years. Garrett’s father, the earl, still stood straight, a fine figure of a man who must be well into his sixties. More white hair than she remembered, a few more lines, but it only enhanced his classic handsomeness. His gaze softened as it landed on Megan. “Moira,” he whispered. His large blue eyes shimmered with emotion. The sadness in his eyes touched Abbie’s heart. He stepped forward. “Forgive me. Miss Hughes reminds me of my late wife, Garrett’s mother.”
“Megan, this is my father, the Earl of Carnstone,” Garrett said.
Megan gave a perfect curtsey. “My lord.” Well, the school turned out to be good for something, Abbie mused.
“Ah. Lovely.” The earl nodded his approval. He stepped toward Abbie and clasped her hand. “I do remember when you were here for the dinner all those years ago. I never would have guessed that there was anything between you and Garrett. You both hid it well.” He winked, and Abbie flushed in response. He bent over her hand, then released it.
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