by Bree Wolf
“Certainly, I hav−” Breaking off mid-sentence, Trent realised that although he had finally admitted his feelings for Winifred to himself, he had never spoken the very words out loud. Not to her. Not to the one person who needed to know. “I did not,” he mumbled, wondering how he could have overlooked such an important detail. “I thought I had made it clear, but I’ve never actually told her that I love her.”
“Don’t you think you should,” Griffin asked, a touch of amusement in his voice, “before you admit defeat? Even if for an objective observer there is no mistaking your feelings for her, hearing it out loud might help her realise what she is about to give up. Perhaps she simply needs to hear it.”
Watching Winifred walk away on Haverton’s arm, Trent drew in a deep breath. “What if I’m fooling myself?” He turned to look at his friend. “What if she simply doesn’t care for me?”
Griffin frowned. “Then why doesn’t she simply tell you? I bet to this day she’s never said anything like that to you, has she?”
Trent shook his head. “Perhaps she is only trying to spare my feelings.”
Laughing, Griffin stepped closer, placing an encouraging hand on Trent’s shoulder. “Listen, from where I stand it seems that she is doing her utmost to keep herself distracted, and there’s only one reason a woman would do so.”
Feeling his hands tremble, Trent looked at his friend, eagerly awaiting his answer. “Which is?”
Griffin sighed as though all of this was obvious and Trent a fool for not realising it on his own. “Because she’s afraid of what she truly wants.”
Trent swallowed as treacherous hope swelled in his chest. Lifting his gaze, he looked around. However, the spot by the refreshment table was now occupied by another couple. Where had they gone? What if Haverton proposed to Winifred in this very moment? What if she accepted him? “I need to find her,” Trent declared as his heart thudded wildly in his chest, terrified at the thought that he had lost his chance.
A satisfied smile on his face, Griffin nodded. “I’ll help you.”
Chapter Twelve – No Reasonable Objection
“These orchids are beautiful,” Winifred exclaimed as they strolled through the conservatory, its glass walls making them visible to the attending guests in the ballroom. Engrossed, her gaze shifted from one flower to the next. “I would love to see them during the day with the sun shining in.”
Lord Haverton nodded. “I would certainly love to see you paint them. I so admire your ability to capture their beauty. I myself am doomed to admire as I cannot create myself.” Despite his words, a delighted smile rested on his face and he looked at her with the greatest admiration shining in his kind green eyes.
Eyes that−unfortunately−reminded her of another man!
Chiding herself for the direction of her thoughts, Winifred lifted her gaze and smiled at the man who had been attentive to her all throughout the evening. She could not deny that he was a kind and decent man and that their conversation was quite stimulating, bringing her great joy as well as peace of mind. On top of that, he was a handsome man with chestnut brown hair and startling green eyes that never failed to light up whenever he saw her.
Did you want to kiss him? Unbidden, Trent’s question echoed in her mind, and Winifred could not deny that…she did not. Or did she? How was she to know? Perhaps she had to kiss him before knowing that she wanted more kisses? Perhaps she was simply confused.
Still, in the back of her mind, Winifred detected the nagging realisation that although she cared for Lord Haverton, she did not wish to kiss him. In fact, her heart steered her in another direction, and she could not keep herself from remembering the way Trent had kissed her a mere two days ago.
What she had felt then was still indescribable to her, and for that very reason it had terrified her more than anything else she had ever experienced. How could she feel something she did not understand? After all, there was not a single, logical reason why he should be able to make her feel thus? Constantly, he aggravated her, called her names…
Fred.
A shiver went down Winifred’s spine at the memory of his nickname for her on his lips.
“Are you cold?” Lord Haverton asked, his green eyes full of concern.
Shaking off the memory that had claimed her, Winifred forced a reassuring smile onto her face. “Not at all. I was merely…lost in thought.”
He chuckled, “It happens to me, too, at times. My father always called me a dreamer.” A wistful smile tugged on his lips. “But he was like that himself.”
“Has he passed on?” Winifred asked, seeing the sorrow that still rested in Lord Haverton’s gaze.
He nodded. “Not two years ago.” He swallowed. “I have very fond memories of him. However, I am sad to say that my parents never shared the kind of union that would inspire affection.” Inhaling deeply, he remained quiet for a long moment, his gaze holding hers, before he seemed to have come to a conclusion.
Stepping forward, he swallowed, the trace of a nervous smile on his face. “Title notwithstanding, I’m a simple man with simple hopes for the future. I wish for nothing more but a loving wife and a happy family.”
Staring at Lord Haverton, Winifred drew in a shaky breath, knowing full well what he was about to say…to ask. She also knew that there was no sensible reason to refuse him.
“My dearest Lady Winifred,” Lord Haverton began, tentatively reaching for her hand, “allow me to say that in the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve come to admire you greatly.”
Winifred swallowed, unable to dislodge the lump in her throat, as panic began to rise in her heart. In a moment, he would ask her to marry him, and she would need to give him an answer. But which one? Was she to accept or refuse?
What was she to do?
“I’ve thought this through quite thoroughly,” Lord Haverton continued, “and I’ve concluded that−”
“Excuse the interruption,” came Griffin’s voice from the shadow of the doorway. “However, I’m afraid I must.” Stepping into the room, his eyes sought hers, and Winifred could not deny that her heart rejoiced at the reprieve he granted her.
Releasing her hand, Lord Haverton took a step back. “Amberly, I assure you my intentions toward your sister are completely honourable.”
Griffin nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Of that I’m certain, Haverton. However, I need to speak to my sister on a matter of urgency. Would you excuse us for a moment?”
“Certainly.” Lord Haverton nodded eagerly and left without a moment’s hesitation.
Once she was alone with her brother, Winifred felt the air rush from her lungs, and for a short moment, she closed her eyes, her thoughts a chaotic mess.
“Come with me,” Griffin said, holding out his hand to her, before he glanced behind her at the tall windows opening the conservatory and those in it to the prying eyes of other attending guests.
With her hand firmly tucked into the crook of her brother’s arm, Winifred found herself walking down a long corridor before Griffin opened a large door and ushered her inside. Judging from the rows upon rows of ceiling-high shelves filled with countless books, they had retreated into the library.
“Are you all right?” Griffin asked as his gaze swept over her. “You seem flustered, to say the least.”
Swallowing, Winifred nodded. “I’m quite all right.” Whatever did that mean? She wondered, realising that her problem had merely been postponed but not solved. At some point, Lord Haverton would ask for her hand, and then she would have to give him an answer.
Winifred knew that he was exactly the kind of man she ought to marry, and yet…
Turning to her brother, Winifred found him looking at her with serious eyes, a warning resting in their dark brown depths. “Tonight, will decide your future,” he finally said. “I hope you know that. You need to make a choice and ask yourself if you truly wish to marry Lord Haverton.”
Staring at her brother, Winifred noticed her mouth opening and closing a few times. �
�Did you…did you know he was going to propose?”
Griffin scoffed. “A blind man could have seen that coming. That man is smitten with you, and you’re not being fair to him.”
Again, Winifred opened her mouth, only this time to protest her brother’s accusation. However, he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Be that as it may,” he continued, his gaze hard as it held hers, “I’m not the only one who noticed Haverton’s intentions. I thought you ought to know that before you make any rash decisions.”
This time, Winifred’s mouth fell wide open and her eyes bulged. “Trent?” she whispered as another rush of dizziness engulfed her.
Grasping her by the arm, Griffin held her tight, waiting until she stopped swaying. “When we found you and Haverton alone, I had to hold him back.” He chuckled, “Otherwise, he would have stormed in, swung you over his shoulder and carried you off like a viking.”
Glaring at her brother, Winifred hissed, “What on earth is so amusing?” In that moment, she could have strangled her brother! What was he thinking making fun of her misery!
“You, my dear Sister,” Griffin said without preamble. Then he drew her hands into his and met her eyes, his own suddenly free of all humour. “Listen to me. I know that you’re the kind of person who makes a careful plan and then follows it to the smallest detail, afraid that if you venture from your carefully laid-out path, disaster will strike.” At this point, he waited, holding her gaze, needing to know if she would contradict him.
However, she did not. After all, he was right. There was no denying that.
“But despite everything you thought you wanted,” Griffin continued, “now is the moment when you need to be absolutely certain of what you want…before you make the wrong choice.”
With a frown drawing down her brows, Winifred stared up at her brother, willing herself to ignore the growing panic that took hold in her heart. “But you chose Lord Haverton for me? Why would you now object?”
Shaking his head, Griffin looked at her as one would a foolish child. “I chose a man who suited you according to your wishes, yes. However, as good a man as Haverton is−and believe me, I have no reasonable objections,” Winifred groaned at his words, “he is not the man I would have chosen for you on my own.”
As bright spots began to dance before her eyes, Winifred tried her best to keep her breathing under control.
“Whether you like it or not, I still believe you need to follow your heart,” he told her, his hands gently squeezing hers, “and it does not lie with Lord Haverton, does it?”
Unable not to, Winifred shook her head.
A pleased smile came to her brother’s face. “I know that Lord Haverton is a man who suits you. However, I could also point you in the direction of a man who loves you.” His gaze held hers. “It’s your choice.”
In that moment a shadow fell over her, and Winifred turned her head to see Trent standing in the doorway. “Can I speak to you?” he asked as Griffin was already stepping back.
In that moment, Winifred knew she was lost.
Chapter Thirteen – Far From Sensible
Trent’s hands still shook as he approached, and he remembered only too well the shock that had almost knocked him off his feet when he and Griffin had come upon Winifred and Haverton in the conservatory…alone. Trent had been on the verge of tearing into the room and wreaking havoc when Griffin had grabbed him by the shoulders and told him to leave.
To trust him.
As hard as it had been, Trent had left.
Stepping away from his sister and toward the doorway where Trent stood waiting, Griffin nodded to him. “This is it,” he said quietly, glancing at Winifred. “Don’t make a mess of things…or I swear you’ll regret it.” He sighed, “As will I.” Then he walked away, leaving them alone.
Shifting his eyes to the woman he loved, Trent inhaled a deep breath.
Something had changed.
Usually, Winifred stood tall, her eyes ablaze, her shoulders thrown back in defiance of anyone who would dare interfere with her plans. Her sharp tongue never failed to hit its mark, and yet, a touch of vulnerability rested underneath her brave exterior, softening her appearance and giving her features the look of kindness and compassion.
Now, all Trent saw was a woman lost.
A woman who did not dare meet his gaze.
And his insides turned to ice. Was he too late? Had Haverton asked for her hand? Had she accepted? Was he speaking to a betrothed woman?
The look of confusion on her face laced with guilt suggested that his hopes had been dashed for good. Still, he had to know. He had to be certain.
As Trent took a step toward her, Winifred’s gaze fluttered to meet his for the barest of seconds before it dropped to her trembling hands once more. Then she swallowed, and her feet began to carry her backwards before she turned and approached the tall window, her shoulders relaxing a fraction as her eyes found something safe to gaze upon. “What are you doing here?” Her usually strong voice sounded distant as though far away.
Indeed, what was he doing here?
The truth! A sharp voice hissed, and Trent swallowed, knowing that he would have to risk having his heart trampled if he was to have a chance to secure her hand in marriage. Still, he could not help but remember the moment after he had kissed her two days ago when she had turned panicked eyes on him, sending him away. In her gaze, he had seen that she had been very much aware of his intentions, and still, she had sent him away. It had been clear that she had not wanted him to propose. That had been a mere two days ago. Had anything changed since then? Or would he find himself rejected yet again?
Swallowing, he approached her, stopping at a careful distance, not wishing to frighten her. “I came to ask for your hand in marriage,” he said without preamble, his heart hammering in his chest as though he were running a marathon.
At his words, Winifred drew in a sharp breath and a slight shiver gripped her shoulders. Still, she remained quiet, her gaze fixed out the window at the starry night. Agonising moments ticked by before her soft voice reached his ears. “I thought about kissing Lord Haverton tonight.”
The shock of her words almost sent him tumbling backwards and his heart ached as though she had stabbed a knife into it. As though determined to protect him from what was surely to come, his feet carried him closer to the door and the only way out.
But then she suddenly turned around, and his feet immediately rooted him to the spot. Her gaze found his, and for a moment, he thought to see something there he had not expected. Intrigued, he took a step closer. “You did?” he asked, hoping against hope that he had misunderstood her.
Still, she nodded. “I did, but it made me realise,” she inhaled deeply, and he could have slapped her for drawing this out, “that I did not wish to.”
Trent’s heart skipped a beat. “You did not wish to…what?”
The ghost of a smile tickled the corners of her lips, and her gaze dropped from his as though she were embarrassed. “I did not wish to kiss him.”
Instantly, unadulterated hope claimed his heart, and for a moment, Trent felt strangely light−headed before the need to see his hope made real claimed him. Stepping toward her, he found her gaze. “The other day when I kissed you,” he began, delighting at the soft flush that came to her cheeks, “you kissed me back.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her gaze narrowed, and her chin rose by a fraction. “I could ask you the same thing,” she remarked, her voice steady once more with a touch of annoyance to it.
Trent rejoiced, and a large smile spread over his face.
Obviously annoyed with the absence of a reply, she crossed her arms before her chest, her gaze questioning as it held his. “Why on earth would you wish to marry me?”
Trent laughed, and her eyes narrowed even farther. “Because I love you, Fred,” he finally said, and having those words out in the open between them felt incredibly liberating. “Can you not see that?”
<
br /> She drew in a slow breath as though his answer had shocked her, and yet, her lips seemed more than willing to curl up into a smile…if only she would let them. “Why must you call me that?” she snapped instead, unwilling to allow him off the hook just yet. “It is a most distasteful name. Surely, you could find something more suitable.”
“I don’t care about suitable,” Trent replied, slowly walking toward her, taking note of the way her eyes followed him. “It’s my name for you. Only mine.” The left corner of her mouth twitched, and Trent could not help but think that his answer pleased her. “A name I can be certain will not be used by another. Or has anyone ever called you that?”
Winifred shook her head, and some of the tension seemed to fall from her as she released the tight grip she’d kept on her own arms. Gesturing wildly as though lost, she opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the words to express herself.
“You’re adorable,” Trent whispered, completely taken with the honest confusion playing over her features.
As expected, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a pet, you know?”
Trent laughed, “I don’t care what you are as long as you’re mine.”
“If I were to marry you,” she asked suddenly, “would you continue to tease me? To call me by that…name?”
Grinning, Trent nodded. “Would you truly want me to stop?” Closing the remaining distance between them, Trent reached for her hands, surprised to find them rather chilled. Wrapping them with his own, he held her gaze. “More than anything I love seeing your eyes light up with fire,” he whispered. “I like the way you snap at me.” She rolled her eyes at him and tried to pull her hands out of his grasp, but he would not let her. “It is open and honest and unrestrained. Don’t ever stop.” Trent chuckled seeing her frowning expression. “It makes you look alive.”
Shaking her head, she stared at him. “You cannot be serious. Would you truly wish for a future where you wife snaps at you all the time?”
“If that wife is you,” he grinned, “then, yes.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her gaze. “Now, tell me, Fred,” again, she rolled her eyes, “will you marry me? Or do you truly wish to spend the rest of your days with a man who suits you?”