by Kelly, Julia
Ina’s mother-in-law had set her needlework in her lap to give the scene that had unfolded her full attention. A smug smile sat on the older woman’s lips.
“You don’t understand the first thing about what’s going on in this house,” said Lady Sophia.
“No,” said Ina, pulling her shoulders back. “But whose fault is that? You’ve made no secret of the fact that you resent my presence here.”
“I don’t just resent your presence,” said Lady Sophia with a laugh. “I resent everything about you, including your marriage.”
“Then I suggest bringing the issue to your son. He saw fit to marry me,” she said.
“Men often don’t know what’s best for them,” said Lady Sophia. “You know, I don’t delude myself into thinking Grace is truly mourning my son’s death.”
“What has this to do with Gavin and me?” asked Ina, wary at the sharp change of conversation.
“Richard was her husband, yes,” Lady Sophia continued, “but not the man she loved. Grace only married him because he was my husband’s heir.”
“But why would she do that if she loved another?” she asked.
The dowager shrugged one elegant shoulder. “She was forced to see that Richard was the best match she could make.”
An odd sensation settled in Ina: an uncomfortable kinship with the sister-in-law who’d just attacked her. She too had been pushed into a marriage she hadn’t wanted, only, despite her fears, hers hadn’t collapsed. Remarkably, she and Gavin seemed to be growing stronger. She’d never felt so connected to him, never shared so much of herself. She knew his past, and he knew her ambitions. She wanted to be the only person for him. The one who comforted him, who challenged him, who loved him.
A lump of emotion caught in her throat. Love. It was at once too strong and too weak a word to explain how she felt for him. She’d loved him as a friend for years, but now she was falling for him and there was nothing she could do about it.
Love was still too frightening a prospect—love risked everything: their friendship, her heart, everything. And so she kept it bottled up inside of her, hoping he’d never know what was in her heart.
“I’m sorry for Grace,” said Ina.
Lady Sophia sneered. “Grace made her own choices. No one is ever completely innocent in these sorts of stories.”
“What happened?”
“Grace’s family is the Cleverlys,” said the dowager. “Their land lies next to Oak Park, and it was always the intention of Mr. Cleverly and Sir Henry to join the two properties and unite the families, but Grace foolishly entangled herself with a young man one summer. Richard had the good sense to sit back and wait for the whole episode to fade away, but the young man was persistent. He insisted that he wanted to marry Grace, but when she was presented with the reality that he could not support her without the approval of his family—which they would not give—she opted to marry Richard.”
Something about the way Lady Sophia was relishing this story made Ina’s blood run cold.
“It would seem Grace still has some cunning in her,” the woman continued. “Just like you.”
“I beg your pardon?” The conversation had once again doubled back and become about Ina.
“Don’t think that I don’t have friends in Edinburgh who haven’t noticed how you schemed to entrap my son,” Gavin’s mother hissed, the hatred in her eyes unmistakable.
“Entrap him?” She hadn’t asked Sir Kier to attack her, just as she hadn’t asked for Mrs. Sullivan’s maid to overhear them in such a compromising position. But his mother was right about one thing: Gavin had been a victim too. He’d been the one forced to carry her back to respectability, compromising his own happiness and any future he might have had with another woman. A woman he actually loved.
Like the woman in the letters. He’d reassured her that he no longer felt anything for the woman he’d written them to, but, used as a weapon like this, the letters could hardly have done more damage.
“You circled him for years and snared him when you finally had the chance,” said her mother-in-law.
“I can assure you, that is not at all what happened,” said Ina.
“Just think, using Gavin to cover up your consorting with other men.”
“I don’t consort. I never consorted,” she bit out.
“And then there’s the matter of your so-called art.”
Lady Sophia had lobbed a direct hit straight to Ina’s most vulnerable spot. She could withstand blow after blow about her character. She was, after all, the daughter of Edinburgh’s most notorious flirt, and she knew people talked about her behind her back. But her art? That would always feel deeply personal.
“What’s wrong with my sculpting?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.
Her mother-in-law either didn’t hear the implied warning there or chose to ignore it. “The very idea of a woman carving stone! Don’t think that I haven’t seen all of those nude statues people claim are art. It’s positively scandalous.”
There was nothing scandalous about the human body. The form and function of it were beautiful. She’d already known that before her marriage, but Gavin had shown her entirely new ways her body could arch and twist. She’d reveled in learning every inch of him, and savored as he did the same to her. Never would she apologize for any of that.
“I’m sorry you don’t approve of me,” Ina said, “but I refuse to be brought to heel by a woman like you. I came here with no thought but to be a source of comfort to you, although I now see that was a lost cause if ever there was one.”
Lady Sophia sniffed. “I will not seek comfort in the woman who would take my title and my home.”
“I have no intention of taking your home from you,” Ina said firmly.
“But you will,” said the older woman stiffly. “The dowager must move from Oak Park to Elmhurst Cottage to make way for the new baronet and his wife.”
Ina nearly laughed at the thought of making Oak Park her permanent residence. She’d never survive out here in the country, cut off from so much in this wretched, cold house that had seen such unhappiness. There was none of the bustle of Edinburgh, the carriages clattering along cobbled streets, the vendors hawking their wares along the Royal Mile, the trains steaming in and out of Waverley Station. Ina thrived on the constant churn of excitement and progress.
And then there was the matter of her people. She might be labeled eccentric in Edinburgh, but at least she had company. Even in her own little circle of Bohemians, there were Lana, Christine, and Anne. They were all unique and ambitious. They understood her.
Who would understand her out here in Ashington?
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want any of this,” Ina said with a shake of her head.
“Preposterous,” said Lady Sophia. “Every woman wants a title and a grand house. You’ll be respected across the county.”
“I don’t want it,” Ina repeated. She gathered up her sketchbook and jammed her pencil behind her ear. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write.”
She was halfway across the room when her mother-in-law stopped her with a single question: “Don’t you want to know the rest of Grace’s story?”
Drat. Of course she did.
“Fine,” she said, clutching the sketchbook to her chest and resolving to leave the moment the story was done.
Something dangerous flashed in the Dowager Lady Barrett’s eyes. “Richard proposed to Grace first. She didn’t accept him initially. She was rather romantic at the time and insisted she’d never marry Richard even though she’d long been intended for him, but her parents sat her down and laid out clearly what her life would be like as the wife of a poor man. There would be no more seasons in London. No more French dresses. No more summers bathing by the seaside or balls or invitations to house parties. Her life would always be harder.
“Then Richard went to Newcastle and purchased a necklace for Grace. Seven perfect sapphire teardrops hanging from a collar of diamonds. He presented them to her, and when the young man found out, he was furious. He asked Grace if she would marry him even though he had few prospects. Instead, Grace accepted Richard and his sapphires, choosing wealth and her parents’ favor over the possibility of love.”
Lady Sophia was right. No one was innocent in this story. Grace had turned the young man away for a collar of precious jewels. The Cleverlys had been cruel. Richard had been opportunistic. The young man had been idealistic. And now no one had a happy ending to their story.
“I’m sorry for Grace,” said Ina. “I’m sorry for the loss of your son. I’m sorry for the young man. It sounds as though no one’s story ended happily.”
Lady Sophia smiled cruelly. “The young man’s certainly didn’t. His name was Gavin. Your husband.”
Ina took a stumbling step back. Grace. Grace was the woman from Gavin’s past. Grace must have been the one he’d written those letters to. Grace was the one he’d wanted.
“Gavin was willing to forsake his family and his prospects for her. Isn’t that funny that your husband once loved his sister-in-law so much he was willing to throw away everything for her? I believe he loves her still, if eyes can be trusted,” said Lady Sophia.
“I don’t believe you,” Ina murmured, half in a daze. “He told me about an old love, but he has no affection for her any longer.”
“Then why didn’t he prepare you before you came here? If he truly didn’t harbor feelings for Grace, it would’ve been nothing to him.”
“His one thought was to race here and take up his responsibilities,” Ina said.
“Gavin knows he’ll never be half the man Richard was, and having you by his side will only drag him down even further. You’re a stone around his neck. Unless you cut him free, he’ll drown,” said Lady Sophia.
Ina had to get out of this room. Out of this wretched house. There had to be somewhere she could go to rid herself of this toxic air that threatened to suffocate her.
But she wasn’t going to let the woman get the parting shot.
“You may think you can bully me and my husband, but one day you will go too far. One day you’ll see just how great a man he is, and you’ll understand what it is to cross those he loves.”
“He doesn’t love you,” Lady Sophia spat.
“Maybe not, but I can assure you that all he holds for you is the contempt you deserve.”
And with that, she stormed out of the room before Lady Sophia could see the tears glistening in her eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
INA STUMBLED BLINDLY into her room, desperate to shut her door against everything. She had her pride—and rather too much of it, if her aunt was to be believed—but that couldn’t protect her from the pain.
Grace was Gavin’s past love.
How could Grace not have loved him? He was a good man, decent to his core, charming and brilliant. He wasn’t perfect—the first week of their marriage was evidence of that—but neither was Ina. Yet things were no longer quite so rocky, and Ina had fooled herself into thinking she and Gavin might mean something more to each other one day.
One day? Now. A low ache pulled at her bruised heart. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, yet she wouldn’t have blamed him if what he really wanted was to share a life with the woman he’d loved now that she was free. It was too cruel, and she refused to make him suffer just because she’d come to understand the depths of her own passion.
So she sat on the padded window seat of her room, twisting her hands in her lap and wondering if she was strong enough to do what she knew she should do.
She was still there when the setting sun began to cast long shadows across the sitting room and a knock pulled her out of her thoughts. Her head jerked toward the door. Gavin.
He was standing in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the white-painted doorframe. He’d discarded his jacket and his shirtsleeves were rolled back from his wrists and pushed up to reveal his strong forearms. A crooked smile played over his face as her attention settled on him.
“Have you been standing there long?” she asked.
“A little while, but I like looking at you,” he said.
She gave a weak smile as he shrugged off the wall and came to her. She moved her stockinged feet over to make room for him on the bench, and he settled down next to her before pulling her feet into his lap. His hand circled her ankle but he didn’t make to move up her leg. Instead it simply rested there as though he derived pleasure from the mere connection with her. As though she grounded him.
Except that was all wrong. He was the one who grounded her. For years he’d been the constant in her life. Gavin was the one man who seemed to accept her exactly as she was, only things were different now. He’d sacrificed his own happiness and agreed to stand by her at the altar in order to save her reputation. But Ina didn’t want a savior. She wanted a husband who loved her.
The realization that she was keeping him from the woman he’d once wanted so badly he’d broken with his family twisted in her chest until she could hardly breathe.
“Do you know, your brow furrows just there when you’re worried about something?” The pad of his thumb smoothed over the spot.
“No one’s ever mentioned it before,” she said. No one’s ever cared enough to notice.
He smiled and traced his fingers down the side of her face and along her jaw. “That’s because most people don’t have the privilege of seeing you unguarded. When you’re alone and no one is watching, you’re different.”
She frowned again. “I am?”
“In a crowd, you carry yourself shoulders back and head held high. It’s like watching an Amazon walk among mere mortals. You’re fierce and unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”
She blushed, unable to deny the pleasure she took in him comparing her to one of the warrior queens. “Some would say standing out is exactly what a woman shouldn’t do.”
“It takes bravery to be different. I’ve always admired that your passion for sculpture has shaped your entire life. It’s in everything you do, and you don’t care what anyone thinks of it.”
But that wasn’t true. She cared what he thought. On one point, Ina, Lady Sophia, and Grace were in complete agreement—she’d never be the wife a baronet should have. She didn’t want the things she was supposed to want: the house, the London season, the endless array of dresses, the country house parties. He’d known that when they married, but during those days he’d been Mr. Barrett. Now that he was Sir Gavin, things were different.
“I envy your determination,” he was saying, not noticing her furtive glances. “I wish I had even a little portion of that.”
Her eyebrows jumped. “How can you say you don’t have determination? You wrote a book, Gavin. An actual, honest-to-goodness book. And now there’s your job at Moray’s newspaper.”
He cast his eyes down as though he was ashamed. “The job was given to me by a friend who pitied me for my need to keep occupied and not feel like a kept man.”
With both hands, Ina gently lifted his face so he couldn’t escape looking deep into her eyes.
“Moray’s a smart man—a businessman—and he doesn’t strike me as the sort to take pity on anyone if that person won’t further his business,” she said. “You can’t tell me you haven’t worked and studied and fought to master your own art. To build the life for yourself that you choose.”
He sighed. “That may be, but don’t mistake me for a man of great conviction.”
“Gavin—”
“I’m not. If I were, I would’ve told my father years ago that he could cut me off without a shilling. I wanted the literary life he didn’t approve of, but I still took his money. What does that make me?”
“Practical.”
H
e gave a half laugh.
“You had to live on something,” she reminded him gently.
“And now we’re at Oak Park, and I’m a baronet. It’s hardly the life I would have chosen for myself—neither would my father—but he still wins.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
He sighed again. “Because even with all of my grand speeches about following my passion for writing, I’m doing what he would’ve wished. Tradition and duty were important to him over all else. A Barrett must inherit Oak Park. A Barrett must become baronet. It’s the way things are, and there’s no breaking away from that, even if Richard was supposed to inherit.”
There was something in his voice Ina had never heard before: defeat.
“Why isn’t there a way to break away from it?” she asked.
He let out an exasperated huff. “The estate is not in the good condition I’d been led to believe it was. It seems as though my father was beginning to transfer more and more responsibility to Richard, and the decisions my brother was making weren’t prudent.”
She stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Richard was beginning to purchase horses,” he said. “I gather he had some scheme in mind to make Oak Park famous for breeding hunters—against Chase’s recommendations—and he’s already purchased the future foals of three different mares with racing pedigrees.”
An astronomical expense for a temperamental business. Worry began to gnaw at Ina’s stomach.
“This was only his most recent scheme,” he continued. “Two years ago he decided that the land around Oak Park was best suited to raising sheep for wool. He bought a flock but discarded the idea before he could see any profits. Before that, it was cotton.”
“Cotton?” she asked. “In the north of England?”
“You can imagine how spectacularly that failed. Before he died, Richard was also talking about stripping half the land for coal mining.” Gavin shook his head. “Combine all of that with years of extravagance to maintain the lifestyle of one of the county’s elites and seasons in London for four, and you can imagine the condition of the family’s finances.”