by Sherry Lewis
Yes, she thought with a satisfied smile, that was the best thing. She hated to resort to such unseemly measures, but she’d do anything necessary to protect Zacharias’s reputation from that woman’s thoughtless actions.
Anything at all.
Zacharias turned over the envelope in his hand and shot a glance at Philip. A missive from Agatha had to be bad news, especially after the way he’d shouted at her in the gardens. Not that he’d been wrong to vent his anger. But a niggling guilt had been eating at him since he’d stormed away from her. And now, she’d found a way to extract her revenge.
“Well?” Philip demanded. “What is it?”
Zacharias tossed the envelope onto his cluttered desk and willed it to disappear.
Philip watched it land. “You’re not going to open it?”
“Not yet.”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
“It’s not,” Zacharias said firmly. “Colin would have said so.”
Philip crossed to the desk and picked up the envelope. “It looks like an invitation to me.”
Zacharias laughed aloud. “From Agatha? Do you forget who you’re talking about?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Philip said, sniffing the envelope experimentally. He grinned broadly and shoved it back at Zacharias. “Lavender.”
“You’re mistaken. Agatha doesn’t use scent. She never has.” Soap and water was more her style—strong lye soap capable of killing romantic notions before they could start. She sure as hell wouldn’t scent an envelope before sending it to him.
He perched on the corner of Philip’s desk, pointedly ignoring the small scrap of white paper in his friend’s hand. “Do you mind if we get back to the matter of our livelihoods?”
“We can get back to that after you read your letter. I’m too curious to wait.”
Irritated, Zacharias tore the damn thing open and pulled out the missive. He expected venom. Spite. Hatred. Instead, he found himself looking at an invitation to join Agatha for dinner. He lowered it to his desk in stunned disbelief.
“Well? What is it?”
“She’s invited me to dinner.”
Philip laughed, obviously delighted by the turn of events.
But Zacharias suspected a trick. What in the hell was she doing? What was she thinking? Why would she invite guests to Summervale? Why would she invite him after the way he’d shouted at her in the garden? “She’s gone too far this time,” he muttered, swiping a hand across his face. “Definitely too far.”
“Maybe she’s finally come to her senses.”
“Or lost them completely.” Zacharias pushed to his feet and paced toward the window. “I tell you, Philip, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Nor do I.” Philip tipped back in his chair and rested his feet on the corner of his desk. “You’ll accept the invitation, won’t you?”
“Not on your life.” Zacharias wheeled to face him, trying to ignore the sudden image of a laughing Agatha that formed in his mind. “I won’t tolerate being manipulated. Maybe the nuances of it escape you, but this invitation forces my hand. If I accept, I’ll be making a public statement that our marriage is intact. If I decline, I’ll be admitting that I wish it to be over.”
“The nuances don’t escape me at all,” Philip drawled. “But maybe it’s time for you to finally make that decision.”
Zacharias glared at him. “Thank you for your show of support.”
“You’ve been estranged for five years, and your life has been stagnant the entire time.”
“I like my life the way it is,” Zacharias insisted, though if he’d been forced to tell the truth, he’d have to admit how untrue that was. Again, the image of Agatha as she’d been in Winterhill’s gardens drifted in front of his eyes. The wistfulness of her expression as she watched the twins at play had touched him deeply and frightened him at the same time. How could he allow her to see the twins when there was still one remaining secret between them? How could he allow her to step into their lives unless he told her the truth first? And how could he tell her and risk losing her again? The first time had cut, but to confess again and lose her now would devastate him.
Philip’s soft laugh dragged him back to the moment. “Ah, yes. I can see why you’re so happy. You’re married to a woman who refuses to acknowledge that you even exist. And—pardon my bluntness—but you’re carrying on a discreet but highly unsatisfactory affair with a woman who’d as soon own your soul as bed you. Your mother has assumed control over your home and your life. Your children are growing up without benefit of a mother.” He broke off and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Let me see . . . have I forgotten anything?”
“I think you’ve managed to hit all the fine points,” Zacharias snarled. “But I’m still not interested in changing. My life works for me.”
“Does it?”
“Perfectly.”
“I see.” Disbelief shaded Philip’s voice. “You’re perfectly content sneaking off to visit Patricia whenever you feel the need.”
Zacharias glared a little harder. “I’m content not dealing with a wife. I had my fill of that particular pleasure.”
“Then your decision is made, isn’t it?” Philip linked his hands behind his head. “If you truly desire to live out the rest of your life without a wife, take your mother’s advice and divorce Agatha.”
For some reason, the suggestion made Zacharias even angrier. He turned away and stared out the window. “I don’t want to be pressured into making any decision.”
“The thought crosses my mind that perhaps you’re avoiding the decision because you don’t want a divorce.”
“Exactly.”
“No. I mean, maybe you want to stay married to Agatha.”
“Precisely.”
Philip rolled his eyes and tried again. “Maybe you’re still in love with her.”
“It isn’t a question of love,” Zacharias snapped. “I merely feel responsibility toward her.”
“You needn’t remain married to satisfy any financial obligation you may feel. You can always make a generous settlement—”
“No.” The word exploded from his mouth before he could stop it.
Philip studied him too intently for comfort. “Why do you feel so responsible? She’s the one who demanded that you leave Summervale, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“And she resisted every attempt you made to save your marriage at the time?”
“She did.”
“Then why do you wish to remain married?”
Talking it over with Philip might help clear some of his confusion, but Zacharias had vowed never to reveal the entire truth, and he couldn’t go back on his word. “She is my wife,” he said after a long pause.
“Ah-h-h. That explains everything.” Philip tucked his hands into his pockets and crossed one foot over the other. “Why don’t you tell me the truth? There’s something more, isn’t there?”
“No.”
“Listen, old man, I understand why you’d hesitate to divorce the mother of your children. But she’s refused to acknowledge you or them for five long years.”
“I know. I know.” Zacharias rubbed the back of his neck but he couldn’t relieve the tension there. “And she is behaving strangely—even more strangely than ever. Still. . .”
“If you hesitate, my friend, maybe you should ask yourself if you truly feel nothing for her. Maybe you should accept her invitation and see what happens.”
Zacharias shook his head quickly. “And what if I decide later to divorce her? Won’t I have made everything worse?” He picked up a paperweight and hefted it in his hand for a moment, wishing he could relieve his frustration by throwing it against the wall. Instead, he kept his emotions in check, just as he’d been taught all his life. “I can’t subject my sons, my mother, or Agatha to any more gossip.”
Philip’s eyes clouded. “What you can’t do is to worry so much about everyone else that you suffer.”
Zacharias
laughed bitterly. “That, I’m afraid, is the nature of my position.”
“To hell with your position,” Philip snapped. “If this kind of agony is what a rich man has to endure, I’d much rather teeter on the brink of disaster.”
“And well you should.”
“I’m serious, Zacharias. For you to make yourself miserable just so that everyone around you is pleased . . . well, that’s utter nonsense.”
“And to do anything less would be utterly irresponsible.”
Philip grabbed his shoulders and pulled him around until they stood face-to-face. “Your sons would benefit a sight more from seeing you happy and contented than they will from watching you live a miserable, lonely life.”
Zacharias pulled away from his friend’s grasp. “This is not a matter I will discuss with my sons.”
“No, of course you won’t. What man would? But tell me, Zacharias, were your parents happy?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one.” Philip shrugged lightly. “You say you’d rather spend the rest of your life in limbo than to spend it with Agatha or marry again. I’m just trying to figure out why.”
“Because marriage is an unendurable state. Believe me, I know.”
Philip pushed away from the wall. “Based on your vast experience?”
“Only a fool keeps putting his hand back into the flame once he learns that it’s hot. If I must be unhappy, I’d prefer to do it alone.”
“Only a fool refuses to allow himself to walk toward the warmth when he’s in the middle of a cold, lonely winter. What if you could be happy?”
“I’m far too old to believe in such nonsense.”
“You sound more like your father every day.”
Only Philip knew how deeply that comment cut, and Zacharias resented him for making it. “Perhaps that’s all I can hope for.”
“And perhaps not.” Philip waved a hand through the air, his own agitation growing more obvious by the moment. “Your parents lived like virtual strangers in the same house. Now, you’re taking it one step further by living alone.”
“You can’t compare the two situations,” Zacharias argued. “It’s not the same thing at all.”
“Isn’t it?” Philip propped a hand against the wall and held his gaze. “Or are you leaving your sons the same legacy your parents gave to you?”
The suggestion was a preposterous one, and Zacharias had no intention of entertaining it for an instant. He pushed past Philip, snagged up his top coat, and began to shove his arms into the sleeves.
Philip straightened quickly and narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Out. There’s no reason for me to stay since you’re supremely uninterested in business, and I’m equally uninterested in discussing my personal life.”
“Will you be back?”
“Yes.” Zacharias jammed his hat on his head and flung open the door. “When you’re ready to concentrate on figuring out who’s robbing you blind.” Without giving Philip a chance to respond, he slammed the door hard enough to make the glass rattle.
But giving in to his temper gave him no satisfaction whatsoever. Muttering under his breath, he stormed down the walk toward the center of town. The humidity was high this morning, high enough to make him uncomfortable beneath his starched collar and coat. But he ignored his discomfort and increased his pace in an effort to work off some of his frustration.
His thoughts held his attention so completely, he paid no attention to anything around him until the door to a shop opened and Patricia stepped directly into his path.
Cursing his bad luck silently, he ground to a halt and narrowly missed plowing into her.
She smiled, revealing the dimples that had once charmed him, but today only set his teeth on edge. Her complete lack of surprise made him wonder if she’d seen him coming and orchestrated this meeting.
But that idea seemed so preposterous, so disloyal, he forced it away and did his best to hide his agitation. Obviously, Agatha’s recent behavior was making him paranoid.
“What an unexpected pleasure this is,” Patricia said, taking his arm gently. “I didn’t expect to see you out and about in the middle of the day. Dare I hope that you’re growing disillusioned with your little business venture?”
His little venture? The word rankled. “As a matter of fact,” he said stiffly, “I find myself more fascinated with it every day.”
Patricia’s eyes flashed but the softened again almost immediately. “Really, Zacharias.” She laughed lightly and slipped her hand further beneath his arm. “I suppose there’s no harm in allowing you to amuse yourself for a while, but you look positively disreputable.”
“Do I?” He glanced at his suit, even though he knew full well how he looked. “Does it embarrass you to be seen with me?”
“Of course not.” She flashed her dimples again. “If it amuses you, I have no real objection to your new pastime.”
“It doesn’t amuse me,” he said, struggling to keep the anger from his voice. “And it’s more than a pastime.”
Patricia laughed as if he’d said something charming and clever. “Of course it is. I have no head for business anyway, and it’s much too nice a day to ruin with a disagreement.” She glanced behind her at the shop. “I’ve just had the final fitting on a new ball gown. It’s quite daring.” She nestled against his shoulder as if she belonged there. “Are you too busy to see me home? It’s so pleasant, I’d rather walk than ride.”
Zacharias glanced at the waiting carriage only a few feet away. He had no desire to dally with her, but to refuse would be rude. “Of course.”
“I’ll be wearing my new gown at the Beaming’s ball.” She lowered her voice and added, “I think you’ll like it.”
Zacharias forced out the expected answer, knowing even as he spoke how Patricia would interpret his response. “If you’re wearing it, I have no doubt that I will.”
She glanced around to make sure no one could see them and brushed against him more provocatively. “I’d be happy to wear it for you . . . privately.”
Every instinct inside him urged him to say no, but again his training tore the expected response from him. “Would you?”
“With pleasure.” Patricia dropped her voice so that it was little more than a whisper. “All you have to do is say the word.”
The only word that came to mind was adultery, and Zacharias didn’t think that was the one she had in mind. “Perhaps another time,” he said, hoping to let her down gently. “I really must attend to business.”
Patricia’s flirtatious manner evaporated. “Why are you so distant today?”
“Am I?”
“Yes you are, and this isn’t the first time, either.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” he hedged.
“Yes, I know, and Agatha has put it there.”
He shot a surprised glance at her. “In part.”
“In part? She’s driving us apart, Zacharias. Whenever I touch you, you look as if you find it distasteful.”
A denial sprang to his lips, but he suspected there was more than a little truth in her observation. He owed Patricia honesty if not much more.
She frowned hard enough to put a crease in her forehead. “You aren’t considering reconciling with her, are you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“She’s a troubled woman, Zacharias. But you aren’t responsible for that.”
“Aren’t I?”
“No. And neither am I.” Patricia drew her hand away slowly. “She’s making herself look foolish, and you’ll look foolish right along with her if you condone her actions.”
“Right or wrong, I am still her husband.”
“There is no need to remind me of that.” Patricia’s voice sharpened, her expression hardened. “But that doesn’t mean you have to turn yourself into a comic figure for her. Don’t you see? She’s a curiosity. An oddity. No one will accept her back into society. And you’ll only ostracize yourself if y
ou have anything to do with her.”
Zacharias let the impact of her words swirl around inside his head for a few minutes. But instead of convincing him to turn his back on Agatha, the warning had the opposite effect. Something inside of him snapped. The wall he’d so carefully constructed came tumbling down.
Good or bad, right or wrong, Agatha was his wife. Maybe she was mad. Maybe she was saner than she’d ever been. Maybe he would make himself a laughing stock if he chose to stand beside her. And maybe Philip was right. Maybe he’d be truly happy for the first time in his life.
ELEVEN
Everything was ready. Candles gleamed in chandeliers, china, silver, and crystal sparkled on the table and the scent of fresh jasmine filled the air. Even the weather had cooperated. The humidity had abated slightly, and a soft breeze blew in through the open windows.
Shelby ran her fingers along the gleaming sideboard and smiled. Everyone, including Zacharias, had accepted her invitations. While receiving the other acceptances had relieved some of her worry, hearing that he planned to attend had made her positively giddy with relief.
She’d been trying for days not to read too much into it—after all, it was only dinner. But at least he wasn’t turning his back on her—on Agatha—completely. And that was a very good sign.
Humming softly, she pushed open the door to the kitchen and watched Meg for a moment as she made last-minute dinner preparations.
When Meg saw her standing there, she lowered the spoon she held to the table and sighed dreamily. “Oh, my dear. Look at you.” She held out her hands, beckoning Shelby closer. “You look positively radiant.”
Shelby laughed with delight. Had she been in her own body, she might have brushed aside the compliment, but she could look at Agatha with enough detachment to know Meg spoke the truth. The deep green silk brought out the best in Agatha’s coloring and set off the jewels in Zacharias’s necklace and earrings to perfection. Her eyes looked even darker and larger than usual, her cheeks were faintly brushed with color, and her hair, thanks to Meg, was nothing short of a masterpiece.