by Kelly, Julia
Ina’s lips tightened, but instead of responding, she simply turned and left.
She managed to hold on to the emotions welling up inside of her until the door shut behind her. Then the tears began to roll down her face. Her hope was that one day Gavin would understand the freedom she was giving him. Freedom from the love he no longer felt. Freedom from the wife he didn’t want. Freedom from his past and hers.
Somewhere in the house a grandfather clock chimed nine, and Ina knew it was time
“You’re truly leaving?” asked Grace.
Ina started. Her sister-in-law was standing a few feet away, watching her.
“There’s nothing left here for me,” she said. “I should never have left Edinburgh in the first place.”
“Does Gavin know?” asked Grace.
“He doesn’t.” Ina hesitated and then drew out the letter she’d written from her reticule. She’d hoped to find a maid to give it to, but she couldn’t be in this house any longer. Grace would have to do. “Please give this to him. Maybe this will answer some of his questions.”
Grace took the letter with a furrowed brow. “You’re certain that you want to give it to me?”
No, but she’d have to trust that her sister-in-law would be a woman of her word.
“I know that a long time ago you were both . . . close,” Ina said, the words cutting into her.
“Why not mail it?” Grace asked.
“Because this is done now.” The sooner she let go, the sooner she could rebuild.
Grace cocked her head and considered it. “I’ll give it to him when the time is right.”
Ina swallowed and bid her sister-in-law farewell. Then she forced her thoughts to the marble that was waiting for her at home. At least she could bury herself in her work and try to once again find the woman she was.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“IS SOMETHING THE matter, sir?”
Gavin’s head jerked up at his estate manager’s words and realized Chase was looking at him from atop his horse with a not insignificant amount of sympathy.
“What would be?” he snapped, immediately feeling like an ass because Chase was only expressing concern.
However, the estate manager merely shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not my place.”
Gavin hesitated and then shook his head. “Are you married?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” said Chase, leaning down to stroke his horse’s neck. “But I was engaged once.”
“Was the engagement broken?” Gavin asked.
“She died. Lungs were weakened by consumption.”
“I’m sorry,” Gavin said.
“I’m not. I had two good years courting Mary. In the end she was so weak it was a mercy when she died. She couldn’t go outside any longer. Couldn’t ride. Couldn’t walk the fields. It was no life for a country girl like her.”
“Did you ever fight?”
A grin split Chase’s face, and Gavin realized it might be the first time he’d seen the solemn man smile. “I’d never met a woman who could make me so angry before, and I haven’t met one since, but loving her felt like my own heart was outside of my body. If I had the chance, I’d do it all over again.”
Gavin nodded, understanding that feeling more acutely than he’d like to admit.
Chase looked up at the sun and then down at the plain silver pocket watch that hung from his waistcoat. “It’s just one. My guess is the ladies will be settling down to luncheon . . . if there’s anything you’d want to say to one of them in particular.”
There was a lot Gavin wished to say now that he was in the bright light of day. He’d still been so angry and mixed up that morning that he’d been glad when Ina hadn’t come down to breakfast. He’d left with Chase the moment the estate agent had shown up, more than a little eager to be in the saddle and dealing with anything other than the marriage that seemed to be falling apart before his eyes. But the more he thought about it, as he rocked gently with the gait of his horse, the less convinced he became that this had to be the end.
He knew he’d pushed Ina too hard before she was ready to make a change. He’d been there, in love with her, for so long he’d wanted her to reach that place as fast as possible. He’d made demands on her that were unfair. He’d always loved her because she wasn’t perfect, but instead was a woman uncompromising in her convictions and steadfast loyalty. Last night, in this place that wasn’t her home and away from her friends and her life, he’d asked her to transform into someone she wasn’t.
“Maybe I do have something to say,” he murmured to himself. “Maybe I do.”
After riding back to the stables, he dismounted and handed his horse off to a groom, not even bothering to change out of his riding boots. If only he could see her, he might reassure them both that there was something worth saving about their marriage.
He could wait if she’d give him a second chance.
Harper opened the door for him as he marched into the house. “Ina,” he called out. “Ina!”
Harper hurried after him. “I beg your pardon, sir—”
“Ina! Where’s my wife?” he asked the butler.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Riley, came rushing across the grand entryway of the house. “Sir Gavin, is everything all right?”
“It will be when I see my wife. Where is she?” he asked.
A glance slid between the butler and housekeeper, and his stomach flipped.
“Where is Lady Barrett?” he asked again, his voice taking on a sterner tone that sounded all too much like his father’s. He’d never be the man his father was, but he could now understand the appeal of having one’s commands obeyed the moment they were uttered.
“My apologies, sir, but I thought you knew of Lady Barrett’s plans,” said Harper.
His blood went cold. “Plans to do what?”
The butler’s eyes once again slid to the housekeeper, but before either of them could decide how to tell him whatever ill news was holding them back, his mother appeared.
“Gavin,” said his mother who, he noted, was still in residence despite his instructions, “you will join me in my sitting room.”
Her sitting room. The one place she summoned people when she wanted to speak to them in complete privacy. It was where his mother had told him that Grace had chosen his brother. It was also where his mother had laid out the rest of his life for him. His father would purchase a commission in the army, or the navy if that suited Gavin better. While he served, she would review lists of eligible women who’d settle for the second son of one of the most powerful men in Northumberland. He’d do the season and clap eyes on these girls before choosing one who’d bring to their marriage a healthy influx of cash and, if he was truly fortunate, a bit of property her family had settled on her. He’d retire from his role as an officer and live out his days in bucolic bliss.
He’d rejected his mother’s proposal flatly, packed his bags, and taken the train north to Edinburgh. In that room, the first chapter of his life had ended just as the second had been reborn.
“Where is Ina?” he demanded.
His mother’s cold stare bore into him. “That is a matter I will not discuss until you agree to come to my sitting room. Now, you can continue to shout like a heathen or you can speak to me like a reasonable man.”
He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood but fell into line behind his mother as she progressed slowly up the stairs.
Once in the sitting room, he watched his mother sit down in a large pink and gold chair.
“Won’t you sit?” she said, gesturing to one of the less plush chairs grouped around her.
He crossed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I’ll stand.”
Her eyes narrowed, but he hardly cared. He was done with the games she’d been playing since he’d returned to Oak Park.
&
nbsp; “Where is Ina?” he asked for the fourth time since returning to the house.
“Not here,” said his mother.
Fear rose in his throat, sour as bile. “What do you mean she’s not here? What did you do?”
That earned him a quirk of brows. “Why is it that you immediately assume I have something to do with it?”
“You’ve hated the idea of Ina from the moment you opened my letter announcing our marriage,” he said, accusation lacing his words.
“You don’t know that,” she said.
He leaned forward. “I do know. I’m not stupid, although you’ve made it clear for a long time that you have no great faith in my abilities.”
“Another false accusation,” his mother said, her lips falling into a thin line.
“Let’s stop playing games, Mother, and speak frankly to one another for once,” he said.
“Fine.” Her tone took on a brittle edge. “If you’d like to know the truth, I’ve always thought you something of a disappointment.”
“I know,” he said. “I wasn’t Richard.”
Despite her seated position, his mother still managed to look down her nose at him. “You weren’t Richard. That is a statement of fact. You never could be, and I never wanted you to be.”
He scoffed at that. “Now I know you’re lying to me.”
“I never wanted you to be your brother, because you couldn’t be. There was to be one heir to Oak Park. One son to inherit. Your father didn’t seem to understand that he couldn’t have the same expectations for you and your brother because your lives were bound to take vastly different paths. That was unfair of him.”
They weren’t words of comfort or reassurance by any means, but somehow just hearing his mother acknowledge that his father had been in any way wrong or flawed was a revelation. The weight of disappointment that had sat squarely on his shoulders since he’d been old enough to understand the way his father looked at him lifted just a little.
Still, the judgment and disappointment in every conversation with his mother were hard to shake.
“You never once told me any of this,” he said.
“I was Lady Barrett, not Sir Barrett,” she said, as though that was explanation enough.
He frowned. “Anyone with any sense could see that you were master of this house, not my father.”
A sly smile spread over his mother’s lips. “That I was. But even so, when it came to you and your brother, I deferred to my husband. What would a woman know of being a gentleman?”
Quite a lot, he suspected.
“I was never so proud of you as the day you told the baronet that you had no intention of becoming an officer or a clergyman,” said his mother. “Not that I wished for you to be a writer, but for the first time in my life, I saw you defy him openly.”
The confession left him at a loss for words. It was as though everything he’d ever known to be true was realigning.
“I thought my son had finally decided to become his own man. That you’d do something brilliant and become what you’d always had the potential to be,” his mother said. “And then you met that woman and married her.”
Everything came crashing back down to earth.
“You will not refer to Ina as ‘that woman,’ ” he said, his anger beginning to roil again.
Lady Sophia sniffed. “Well, I certainly won’t call her your wife. Not when she’s up and left.”
“What?”
Oh God. She’d told him she was going to at the very end of their fight the night before, and, even worse, he’d challenged her to go. He just hadn’t believed she’d actually do it. He’d assumed it was the sort of thing people threatened in anger but never actually acted upon.
“She left after breakfast this morning. She called for the carriage and had herself driven to the station with hardly a word of good-bye,” Lady Sophia said.
He stared at his mother, stunned. After all of those years of standing by Ina’s side, she’d abandoned him when he needed her most. He’d stood by her, but she wouldn’t do the same for him.
“What exactly did she say?” he asked, sinking into a chair.
“Nothing except that she was leaving,” his mother said.
“There was no message for me?” he asked, scrubbing his hands over his face. That didn’t sound like Ina at all, but nothing made sense anymore.
“None. Gavin, you’ve rid yourself of a difficult, uncompromising woman who was utterly unsuited to the role of Lady Barrett. Although it’s unfortunate you won’t be able to completely uncouple yourself from her without the scandal of divorce, there are other things you can do. If she’ll agree not to go out in society, she may live apart—or even on the Continent.”
His mother’s words washed over him, barely heard. Ina was gone. Everything he’d known about her—her strength, conviction, and compassion—was all false. He’d been nothing to her but a way to repair her reputation, and now she’d cast him aside like a used rag. He’d served his purpose.
His heart squeezed hard, and the physical pain of the relationship rocketed through him. He’d done what he never thought he’d do again—let a woman into the most intimate parts of his life. Now she’d once again chosen another. For Grace it had been Richard. For Ina, herself.
“I see,” he said.
“This is a clean break, Gavin,” his mother said, her voice almost soft. Almost mothering. “That woman was never going to make a suitable mistress of Oak Park. How can you be expected to have the Earl of Rockport and the Viscount Haughton and his wife to supper when your wife isn’t up to the task of being hostess?”
His head snapped up, realization dawning on him. All of this—from the admission that she’d admired him standing up to his father to the way in which she spoke of Ina merely as “that woman”—was just another masterful manipulation by his mother. Whereas his father had been straightforward and harsh in his disapproval, his mother was skilled at twisting and turning his emotions until he wasn’t certain which way was up. The pull to trust her was strong—she was his mother, after all—but sure enough, the moment he’d let down his guard, she’d gone straight for his deepest vulnerabilities in order to further her own desires.
He assessed his mother with new eyes. She was still lovely as he remembered her as a child, but she aged in such a way that she would have been called handsome rather than beautiful. Her slate-gray hair was tied in a severe knot on top of her head, and her dress was a foreboding shade of black. She was in every way the respectable widow, and yet what no one could see was that a viper lay underneath.
His mother droned on, unaware of the thoughts racing through his head. “This estate demands a woman of refinement, skill, and breeding to run this household.”
“A woman like you, perhaps?” he asked.
A flicker of caution flashed in her eyes, but she affected a nonchalant shrug all the same. “Or Grace. She’s already familiar with the running of the entire house and—”
“No.” He bit the bitter word out. “My wife has just left me without any word, and now you’re speaking of my sister-in-law—the woman who married my brother who’s been dead a mere month—as though she can simply stand in for my bride.”
“Gavin, I—”
“No, you will listen to me for once in my life,” he said, shooting to his feet. “Oak Park is mine to do with as I choose. That means that when I decide to sell the horseflesh my brother so foolishly acquired that has overstretched the estate’s funds more than it needs to, it will be a matter between Chase and myself. That means that if I decide to let this house and live off the income from rent, I will.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t. Barretts have always lived at Oak Park since James I was king.”
“I can, and I will if I see fit,” he said, a surge of power rising in him.
“She’s turned your head. She’s making y
ou choose between your family and her,” Lady Sophia insisted.
“This has nothing to do with Ina, Mother. At the moment, this is between you and me. My demand that you move into the dower house was not an idle threat.”
“It’s not ready,” she protested.
“On the contrary, Mrs. Riley informs me that it was made habitable two weeks ago.”
“But the redecorating I’ve ordered will not be finished for another three months.”
“You will just have to put up with it,” he said. “Grace may choose whether to live with you as your companion, or I will find her a house somewhere in Ashington if that’s what she desires.”
His mother’s face was beet red. “After all I’ve done for you, warning you away from that woman—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I will not hear another word about her. Ina is my wife.”
“She left you.”
Another viselike squeeze of his heart almost made him cringe, but he schooled his expression to remain neutral. “That is a matter between her and myself. I don’t wish to speak of her any longer.”
It was too painful to hear her name. Inside his world was crumbling, and so outside he’d do everything he could to be the commanding, exacting man everyone expected him to be.
Ina rode from Waverley Station to Lana’s home with her head bent low. She took no pleasure in the sights of her beautiful city. The elegant homes of New Town held little charm for her, even on a gloriously sunny day. All she wanted was to be reunited with her friends.
All of them would be gathered around the tea cart in Lana’s drawing room for one of their twice-monthly teas. Christine would be relaxing after a late-evening performance. Anne would be sitting wide-eyed on the edge of the sofa, absorbing every story she heard and tucking it away for careful consideration later. Lana, dressed in one of her diaphanous tea gowns that, paired with her wheat-blond hair, gave her an angelic appearance, would hand out cups and cake, laughing heartily as they caught up on news and gossip from the past two weeks.
The dull ache in her heart at missing them was a welcome change to the sharp, jabbing pains she’d coped with since leaving Oak Park. She’d cried silently through most of the carriage ride to the station, grateful for the net veil of her black hat. On the train, however, her tears all dried up. Instead she felt a gaping hollow of sadness inside of her. Ruth had sat in the far corner of the private compartment while Ina simply stared out the window, wondering if she’d ever feel like herself again.