“Just thinking too much,” Julian replied with a shrug. “I’m sure it will pass.”
Horace was silent for another moment. “It’ll be good to have your mother home for a bit.”
“She’ll enjoy this.” Julian had wired his mother to come for a visit. She’d protested at first, but when he hinted he might be staying for some time, she relented. She was even now on her way across the Atlantic.
Horace let out a gusty exhale and shook his head. “I should have insisted she come home from the start.”
“Who? Mother?”
“After the... After His Lordship took himself off to France. Your grandmother and I wanted her to come back home to us.”
Julian smiled at his grandfather’s sneering use of the title. Sometimes he was sure Horace forgot that he was now Lord Knighton. “You asked Mother to come home? Why didn’t she?”
“Said her son would someday hold the title and the title was English, so you should be, too.”
“She stayed in England for me?” He’d always imagined she’d stayed put in London out of some futile hope her husband would eventually change his mind and come home.
“I can’t imagine she enjoyed it much, after what happened.”
Julian thought of his mother’s long years of humiliation over his father’s abandonment and his heart ached. And she’d done it for him, so he’d grow up English instead of American. Watching his American family laughing and chattering, so loud, open and alive, he wasn’t sure if she’d made the right decision. How much of who he was grew out of having to face his father’s abandonment on a daily basis? It seemed every choice he made could be traced back to that. If he’d grown up here, far away from the reminders, and far away from the people who cared so much about it, would he have cared less? Would it have allowed him to grow into someone different?
“She’d never say so, not my gentle little Ada,” Horace continued. “But I suspect she blamed us a bit, as well.”
“Blamed you and Grandmother? Why?”
“We urged her to accept him. Your grandmother especially, God rest her soul. Ada had her eye on the Hartwell boy, from Chicago, but then Lord Knighton threw his hat in the ring for her.”
“Mother wanted to marry someone else?”
“It wasn’t terribly serious. She was only seventeen. But she liked him a great deal. She had hopes. His family owned a string of dry goods stores. They were doing well enough, but they weren’t in the same league as us. Blind fool that I was, I thought Ada could do better. Hartwell eventually married an Astor cousin. Settled down in Chicago and had three children. Lost the wife two years ago, I believe. But he was the most devoted family man you’ve ever seen—solid, trustworthy. And we turned our noses up at him, packing our Ada off to England so she could be abandoned by that bounder.”
“It was her choice, too.”
“She looked to us to guide her. At the time, it seemed like just another opportunity, another expansion, like the steam engine business, or investing in the telegraph. So many of the American girls were marrying those English toffs. Why not my Ada? She deserved to marry a prince just as much as any girl. She wasn’t sure about him, though. Didn’t believe his heart was in it. We convinced her it would all work out well, and she accepted him anyway. And you see, she was right.”
“I’m sure Mother doesn’t blame you.”
“I blame myself. And your grandmother went to her grave regretting it. You are the only good thing that came out of the whole debacle.”
“Grandfather, please don’t dwell on this. We’ve both turned out well.” Or rather, well enough. Julian was beginning to realize perhaps both he and his mother had been not so much living as existing, unable to move past the one great wrong done them right from the start. What Phoebe had said about him—his attempts to be perfect in every aspect of his life—had struck a chord. The moment his conduct had slipped, the moment he’d been less than perfect, he’d fallen apart completely.
Horace shook his head again. “If there’s one piece of advice you take from your old grandpa, Julian, is that you shouldn’t reach my stage of life with regrets. I don’t have many. How could I when I look at this?” With a sweep of his hand, he encompassed the house, the lawn, and the thriving family spread out across it. “But Ada is a black mark on my heart. I’m glad she’s coming back home. Maybe now the bastard is dead and you’re grown, we can convince her that her place is here with us.”
Julian looked back out across the lawn. He’d like that, knowing Mother was here with her family again. And as for himself? How did he mean to fill the remaining years of his life? What his grandfather had said about regrets... Would he still regret Grace when he was old and white-haired? Would he be standing here watching an even larger clan of Brennans, aching for the loss of her, wishing he’d made her a part of them, no matter what the cost?
Yes. He would regret her until he drew his last breath.
“This Mr. Hartwell...” Julian said pensively. “Do you think Mother would have been happy? If Mr. Hartwell wasn’t on the same footing as her, would there have been other problems?”
“The same footing? What would it matter? Ada had plenty of money for both of them. No, I learned my lesson about those things. This lot...” He waved a hand at Minnie and her sisters in the gazebo. “They marry who they like, so long as there’s genuine affection. Phoebe’s John was a clerk in my company when they met. He’s worked his way up now, but his start was as humble as they come. That Sophie girl is pretty as a picture, sweet as spring, and hasn’t a dime to her name. Your cousin, Oliver, doesn’t care. He’s head over heels for her. And Minnie’s Theo, he’s a furniture maker.”
Julian let out a strangled laugh. “He’s what?”
“He makes chairs. Well, he designs them. Minnie’s forever correcting me.” Horace pointed to a pair of elegant cherry wood armchairs which had been brought out on the terrace for the party. “Those are his. We’ve got the damned things in every room of every Brennan house.”
Julian and his grandfather stared at the chairs together.
“They’re actually quite nice,” Horace said after a moment. “Very comfortable to sit in.”
“I’m sure.”
“The point is, the boy makes Minnie happy. It’s the only thing that matters in the end.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Horace clapped a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Of course it is.” Looking at his boisterous family, there was no denying the Brennans married for love and lived in happiness.
“I’ve been an idiot, Grandfather. I’ve been convinced Mother’s marriage failed because there were inequalities on both sides, and it led to resentments.”
“Your mother’s marriage failed because her husband was a bounder. If there had been genuine love there, all the inequalities in the world wouldn’t have mattered.”
“You’re right, of course. And I’ve been so very wrong.”
Horace turned to look at him with a speculative gleam in his sharp eyes. Even at nearly eighty, nothing slipped by him. “Is this what’s prompted this visit home? You’ve fallen in love with someone inappropriate?”
“Well, I—”
To his surprise, his grandfather let out a loud bark of laughter.
“I wanted to see you all again, but...yes. I... She’s... I was an idiot and now it’s too late.”
“She’s married, then?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, then it’s not too late. Does she want you, too?”
“That’s not the issue.”
“It’s the only issue. If neither of you is married, it’s not too late. Why are you here when she’s back there? England’s stolen all your Brennan fire. When I was your age, if I wanted something, I made it happen and nothing stood in my way. Took over three companies before I was thirty that way.”
>
“So many people would be hurt if I were to act, including Mother.”
“Don’t you worry about your mother. She’ll be here with us.”
“My reputation would be damaged. All the good I hoped to accomplish...it would be hard going, if not impossible.”
“There are lots of ways to do good. Trust me, if you’re looking to give away money for the benefit of others, you’ll find plenty of opportunities, no matter how sullied your name gets.”
“It would mean a great deal of scandal. People might talk, even here.”
Horace scoffed. “Son, I own most of Pittsburgh. No one says a word about this family I don’t approve of. Even if they do, ask yourself this: Is doing the honorable thing now worth the both of you living a lifetime of regrets?”
No. It wasn’t. Nothing was worth living without Grace.
How could he bear another sixty years of missing her? To reach the end of his life and feel it had all been a waste because of this one moment, this one choice, this one path not taken?
Nothing else mattered if he didn’t have her, and that was the truth of it. He took a deep breath and as he did, resolve flooded in. He knew what he had to do.
He would go back to England and convince Grace he’d changed, he loved her—and his love would last. He would find some way to make it right with Rupert and Honor. He would weather the destruction of his reputation and find a new way forward. It would all be a small price to pay if he could only have her.
“Mr. Brennan? Your Lordship?”
Horace turned back to the butler who’d approached them. “What is it, Robert?”
“A letter has arrived express for His Lordship. It’s from London.”
Julian snatched it from the tray. Mother had already left, hadn’t she? But it wasn’t from his mother. The handwriting was Rupert’s. Rupert was a loyal and enthusiastic friend, but he was a dreadful letter-writer. He loathed it. Julian didn’t think he’d received more than half a dozen letters from him in all the years of their friendship.
He tore open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet, covered with Rupert’s large, ungraceful writing.
London
June 25, 1897
Dear Julian,
I don’t know how to begin to tell you this, so I’ll just have out with it. Honor and I were married by special license two weeks ago at St. Dunstan’s Chapel. There is no explanation I can make which will lessen what I’ve done, and no apology you could possibly accept, I know this. All I can say is I love Honor most dearly, and that neither of us meant to do you harm. The whole thing rather snuck up on us and we were in the thick of it before either of us realized it. I won’t relay the particulars, as I’m sure you don’t wish to hear them.
You are still my most treasured friend, although I know I am certainly no longer yours. If ever you should wish to speak to me again, I am always at your disposal.
Sincerely,
Rupert Humphrey
Julian stared at the letter in his hand until the letters had blurred into an incomprehensible mess. Rupert...married to...Honor? How? And why? What on earth had happened to bring such a mystifying thing about?
He wanted to write back immediately, to assure Rupert of their continued friendship and to press him for all the particulars, but there wasn’t time. Rupert was married to Honor, and Grace was alone in London. Alone and free.
“Grandfather, I’m afraid I can’t stay in Pittsburgh. I’ve got something to take care of in England.”
Horace crowed with delight. “There’s my boy, a true Brennan in spite of your fancy title. Get back there and make things right. And I look forward to having your young lady here with us.”
Julian looked out across the lawn at his family, imagining Grace here with him, and his heart ached with the rightness of the vision. “I do, too.”
Chapter Twenty
Knighton House didn’t feel particularly empty, Julian thought when he finally arrived home, considering both he and Mother had vacated it. Perhaps—as he was coming to realize—it was because neither of them had been doing much living in it before. They’d been existing, plodding along a narrow path of respectability, clinging to the honor his father had abandoned.
Well, all that was done. Mother was in Pittsburgh with their family by now, and he hoped they’d convince her to stay. Perhaps away from the insular world of London Society, she could finally begin putting her failed marriage behind her and begin living again.
And as for him... He’d come home expressly to lay waste to everything he’d previously lived for. He’d eventually piece his life back together, but it wouldn’t bear any resemblance to what had come before. It was starting to seem like a good thing.
There was much to do to make it happen, though. Grace was out there and every moment he wasn’t with her was a moment wasted. Minutes after arriving home, he’d called his valet to lay out a fresh change of clothes, when the bell rang. He exchanged a puzzled look with Thomas before stepping out to see who’d called. The carriage had deposited him at the front door scarcely half an hour before. Who on earth could be calling now?
When he reached the landing, a footman was just divesting the caller of her jacket, gloves and hat. In the muted light of the entryway, the sight of sweeping skirts, a slim waist and dark hair made his heart momentarily take flight. Then the caller raised her face and he had to school himself into some appearance of happiness despite his irrational disappointment.
“Julian!” Honor cried when she saw him.
He hurried down the steps to her when she looked as if she might launch herself up them. “Honor, it’s wonderful to see you, but how did you know I was here? I arrived home less than half an hour ago.”
“I’ve had a servant watching the house for weeks,” she said with an absent wave of her hand.
“You what?” he sputtered.
“Oh, Julian, I had to come as soon as you were here to apologize.”
He glanced furtively at the footman, who was making a great show of not listening. Taking Honor’s elbow, he steered her into the ground floor parlor. “Come have some tea, Honor, and we’ll catch up.”
When they entered the room, she strode away from him, twisting her handkerchief into knots. He closed the door behind them. “I take it this is about you and Rupert.”
Honor spun around and her eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Julian. I don’t know how it happened, only that it...did. We were in love with each other before we quite realized it was happening.”
Closing the distance to her, he gently took her hands in his, stopping their nervous motion. “Honor, I’m not angry. Perhaps surprised, but not angry. We had no explicit understanding. You were free to act as you pleased.”
“Truly?”
He nodded and she closed her eyes, sagging with relief. “Oh, Julian, I can’t tell you how good it is to hear you say that. Rupert has been beside himself, and so have I.”
“Neither of you owes me any apologies. I’ll see Rupert myself and tell him.”
“Oh, no, he’ll be at your door before the day is out. He’s been desperate to see you.”
“Tell him he has nothing to fear. We’re as we always were.” Julian broke off and shook his head in wonder. “Only... You and Rupert. I confess, I can’t imagine it. How did it happen, Honor?”
For the first time, a hint of a smile played around the corners of her mouth and her eyes softened. “I can hardly say. We were spending so much time together working on his house. I’ve known him for ages, of course, but only as your friend. Once I got to know him on my own, I began to see him in a different light. And then, that day, we were simply caught up in a moment and...” Honor stopped abruptly, her expression turning bleak. “I’m not sorry I fell in love with Rupert, but I’m so sorry about how it occurred. Poor Miss Godwyn
. Oh, Julian, I’m the very worst sort of friend.”
Julian patted her hand. “Don’t worry on Grace’s account.”
“But they were engaged! And I stole him away from her! It’s terrible. She released him, and was quite gracious about it. She must have known what would happen, how people would talk, but she did it anyway. We tried to tell everyone the truth, but nothing seemed to do any good. The things people were saying about her... it was terrible. That’s why Rupert and I married so quickly. We thought perhaps it would quiet the talk.”
“And has it?”
Honor shook her head. “Not really. At least she hasn’t been here to hear it.”
Julian started. “What do you mean? Where is she?”
“She’s gone to the South of France to stay with Dowager Countess of Marlbury. She left right after she ended the engagement. And Julian...” Honor’s eyes went wide and her voice dropped, as if she was imparting a terrible secret. “She’s been inquiring about governess positions. I had no idea her situation was so dire. But apparently she hasn’t any family and not a penny to her name. She was about to be comfortably married and I ruined everything for her, and now people are saying the worst things and she’s forced to seek employment. I can scarcely live with myself and—”
Taking her shoulders, Julian crouched slightly to look her in the eyes. “Honor, don’t upset yourself. I’ll see to Grace.”
“But she hasn’t anyone, Julian, and—”
“I said, I’ll see to her. I’ll take care of her.”
Honor fell silent and she blinked slowly. Then a wide smile blossomed across her face. “Oh! Do you mean...you and she...”
Julian’s own smile tugged at his mouth. “That’s what I intend, yes.”
“I knew something about you had changed, but I couldn’t puzzle out what it was! Oh, Julian, do you love her?”
The smile he’d been fighting broke out fully. “Yes, I do. That’s...” He paused to clear his throat. “That’s why I went away. So you see, Rupert has no cause to apologize to me. It’s I who owes him a great apology. And you. I wronged you both terribly.”
A Reluctant Betrothal (The Grantham Girls) Page 22