As they made their way along the path, she struggled to think of an appropriate topic to discuss.
“Did you know that Hyde Park was created by Henry VIII in 1536?” She immediately berated herself. Now he’d definitely think her too bookish.
“Truly? Your knowledge amazes me, Miss Grisby.” He appeared interested in the topic, and she couldn’t help but add one more fact.
“It remained a private hunting ground until 1637.” More than anything, she wanted to inquire as to his family. Was that too personal?
“Have you always lived in London?” she asked, hoping that might bring him to speak of more personal matters.
“Only during the season. I have an estate in the country where I spend much of the year.”
Silence ensued, and she could think of no other way to gain the knowledge she wanted other than to inquire. At least if she asked her questions here with some privacy, no one would be the wiser. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“I’m the eldest with two brothers and two sisters. My mother remains in the country. She doesn’t care for the air in London and most of her friends live near our estate.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “What do you enjoy doing?”
“When in the country I fish and ride, though most of my time is taken with managing the estate. Tenants to see to and all that. What of you, Miss Grisby?”
Her cheeks heated. How honest should she be at this point? “I haven’t had much free time in the past, but I enjoy learning new things.”
“That’s something we have in common,” he said as he negotiated around a halted carriage.
Their conversation moved on to the weather. He pointed out a few of the people they’d spoken with at balls. Her nerves settled as they visited. She realized that not only was he nice, he was amusing. She appreciated that very much.
Yet as the hour continued, she became more convinced that while she truly liked him, her feelings were more brotherly than husbandly. Was that so wrong? Some married couples couldn’t even claim that much. Some remained virtual strangers the balance of their lives.
The real question was, would those feelings be enough for her? Would it sustain both her and him in the years ahead, assuming he cared enough to offer her marriage?
Uncertainty filled her, leaving a knot in her stomach she couldn’t ignore. It seemed impossible to separate the pressure she felt to marry quickly and her true feelings. How could she follow her instincts as to whether the marriage would be a success?
What better test would there be for the relationship than to see how he reacted when she spoke of her family? If he didn’t care for what she told him, she’d have her answer. She drew a breath and began. “I have siblings as well. A younger sister and brother. Unfortunately, my sister is quite ill.”
She watched him carefully for his reaction as she continued, relieved when he showed only concern. Perhaps she could find a way to make this work after all.
~*~
Michael entered his grandmother’s drawing room, his gaze automatically sweeping the room for Emma.
But she wasn’t there.
“And here I thought you’d come to visit me.” His grandmother’s dry tone made him smile.
“Never doubt that I did.” Yet he couldn’t help but glance at the mirror, the memory of Emma in his arms making him ache.
“I beg to differ,” his grandmother argued even as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I believe it is my companion whom you seek.”
“Emma? Where is she?” He should’ve known his grandmother would pick up on his interest.
“Lord Tagart invited her for a ride in the park.”
“How nice.” He forced his smile to remain in place, though he’d rather have scowled with displeasure. He didn’t care to examine the reason for it too closely.
“Surely you’re happy for her. Your plan is proceeding as you’d hoped.” Those blue eyes, so much like his, saw far too much; she knew him too well. “I would expect at least two offers by the end of the month.”
Her prediction struck him to the core. He turned away before his grandmother saw more than she should.
“Michael.” Her inflection said it was too late.
Masking his emotions, he turned to face her. “Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Visiting with you.” He came to sit beside her and squeezed her hand. “One of the finest pleasures in my life.”
“If visiting with an old woman is one of your finest pleasures, we need to talk.”
He scoffed.
“I speak the truth. While I know you love me, and I truly do appreciate that, there should be so much more to your life than that.”
“There is more to my life. I’m engaged, remember?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you marrying Miss Vandimer?”
“She’s the perfect wife for me.”
“How so?”
Michael rose to pace the room, uncertain where his grandmother was going with this conversation. “She’s a good match. Surely you see that.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
Surprised, he turned to face her. “You don’t approve?”
She leveled him a glare that took him aback. “No.” She rose to stand before him. “Michael, I do not care for her at all. How can you imagine yourself growing old with her?”
He closed his eyes, the image her question presented far from pleasant. But that didn’t change things. “I must marry her.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only way to gain back Langford Hall.” He turned away to pace again. “I’ve made every attempt to buy it from Vandimer, even under a false name. But he won’t accept any offers, no matter how outrageous.”
“That drafty old place? Whatever will you do with it?”
He turned to stare at her, wondering for the first time if her advanced age had affected her mind. “It’s been in our family for centuries. When Father lost it—”
“Your father was a fool.”
Michael raised a brow. Never had she spoken of her only son so poorly.
She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I loved him very much. Perhaps too much. When your grandfather and I first married, I feared for years I would never have a child. And when your father finally came, I wanted to give him everything, anything to make him happy, to make him smile. I have often wondered if I am the one who created the seeds of destruction in him.”
The tears in her eyes nearly broke his heart. “No. That is simply not true. It was him. He and my mother together were...not good for each other. But none of that matters. In a few months, Langford will be ours again. In our family just as it has always been.”
“Why are you so insistent on picking up the mess he made? Have you ever thought that perhaps what he tore down should remain so?”
“But it’s my responsibility to put the family estate back together. I have the opportunity to make it better than it was before.”
“You already have. I know how hard you’ve worked. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate the excellent care you’ve given me. But I would be happy anywhere. I don’t need a home with more rooms than I have need. As long as I have you and friends and a roof over my head, I would be happy.”
Michael had been so driven to pay off the debts, to attempt to restore honor to the Weston name, had he so misunderstood what his grandmother wanted? “I don’t know what to say. Langford Hall was the home in which you were born. How could you not want to see it returned to Weston hands?”
“Michael, it’s a lovely house. But it’s old. It’s drafty. The roof leaks.”
He raised his brow.
“I have some wonderful recollections of my childhood there. And both you and your father were born there. No one can take those memories from me. I will keep those always. I don’t need to wander the halls of that house to remember.”
Not gain back Langford Hall? He couldn’t imagine such an idea. Not whe
n that had been his goal for so many years. “I thought it meant more to you. Everyone knows Father lost it in a bet. To restore our family honor, I must—”
She raised her finger in the air to stop him. “No. You’ve already restored our family’s honor threefold. Now you should concentrate on being happy.”
“But it’s within my grasp to gain it back. How can I walk away from the history of our family?”
Anger flared in her eyes. “My son died there. He killed his wife then killed himself there. Why would I want to remember that?”
The images from that terrible night crept over him despite the years that had passed.
His grandmother sighed. “I do not care if you regain Langford Hall. I have no desire to go there again. If that is all that holds you to marrying Miss Vandimer then set it aside. These are modern times. Marriage should be more than a business arrangement.”
Michael glanced away, not certain he could explain why he had to be careful, how treating his life like a business arrangement was so much safer. His ability to read success and failures in auras had made it very easy to keep all of his relationships professional.
“What is it?”
He should’ve known she could tell there was more to his decision to marry Catherine than what he’d revealed thus far. “I think I would be better off if I honored my promise to Catherine.”
“How do you mean?”
“I am my father’s son.” He turned away, unable to meet her eyes for fear he’d see confirmation of his fear there. “How can I possibly allow myself to love? The moment my father did, look what happened. He destroyed himself and my mother. He lost everything, all in the pursuit of love.”
“Surely you see what they felt for each other was not love but something much darker. Besides you are not your father.”
He met her gaze, wishing he could believe that was true. Yet those few moments here in this room with Emma had confirmed his worst fears. His passion for her could so easily burn too brightly and turn down a dark path.
“As we’re speaking candidly, I will ask you this point blank.” She stepped forward to grasp both his hands in hers, forcing him to hold her gaze. “Do you have feelings for Emma?”
Nonplussed, he could only stare at her, wondering if his regard for her was so obvious. Yet after all he’d told his grandmother today, why lie now? “Yes. I’m afraid I do.”
“She’s a lovely person.” She paused as though waiting for him to agree.
“Yes, she is.”
“Lovely inside and out.”
He reluctantly nodded, wondering what her point might be.
“I find it impossible to see how loving someone like her could cause you to become as violently jealous as your father. You are not him. Emma is nothing like your mother.” She seemed to realize she had not yet convinced him. “You must decide how you feel about Emma.”
“I don’t know what I feel. I’m not sure I’m prepared to put a label on it.” He released her hands to fiddle with a figurine on the table. “I can say that what I feel for Emma is not comparable to what I feel for Catherine.”
Emma froze at the doorway of the drawing room unable to breathe. The tiny flicker of hope she’d held that Michael felt something for her extinguished, leaving a dark void. She blinked back the tears in her eyes.
Of course, he loved Catherine. She was beautiful and of his world. She would fit in perfectly.
Emma backed up as quietly as she could and made her way up the stairs to her room, the heaviness in her heart making each step an effort. Lord Tagart had proposed. She’d requested time to consider it. Though she’d thought to refuse him when she gave him an answer in a few days’ time, now she was no longer sure.
Michael obviously didn’t feel the same way for her as she felt for him. But her family still needed help.
She closed the bedroom door behind her and let her tears fall. Rarely did she indulge in crying. Tears only made her feel worse. But sometimes no other release would suffice. The dream she hadn’t realized was forming now lay in ashes at her feet, right beside her heart.
~*~
The next morning, Michael awaited Catherine in the drawing room at her home. He dreaded the encounter before him yet was eager to see the deed done. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders after his visit with his grandmother. He’d spent a long night weighing his decision but realized there was no other recourse. He couldn’t marry Catherine. The idea of a lifetime of being subjected to her petty comments and belittling of others was now unbearable.
During the long night, he’d realized the depth of his mistake in offering marriage to her. In truth, he’d felt trapped into doing so. He’d tried every possible way to gain back his family’s holding to no avail. Perhaps that had been Vandimer’s intent all along—to force him into offering marriage to his daughter.
In many ways, not regaining their estate was a relief. As his grandmother had said, why would they want to stay in the very place where so much heartache had occurred?
His decision had nothing to do with Emma, he told himself. What he felt for her was a separate issue—one he wasn’t certain how to deal with at the moment. If he could control the passion he felt for her and focus on helping her and her family, then all would be well. At least he hoped so. Losing control of his desire for her would only harm them both. He could not, would not, allow that to happen. He need only hold back, to maintain some distance between them. That would keep him objective enough to properly handle their relationship, assuming she had feelings for him as well.
He reined in his impatience as he wondered how long Catherine would make him wait. Based on past experience, he knew it could be an hour or more. He’d considered sending her a message first, but had decided against it. He didn’t want to give her time to prepare. Better to keep her off balance.
Too restless to sit, he rose to look around. While he’d been in this room before, he hadn’t really noticed it. The wallpaper was the very best in quality, the color and pattern the latest fashion. The room was decorated very well, but felt so different than his grandmother’s. Nothing here revealed anything about the people who lived in this house. The items in here, from the fabric of the settee to the knickknack that sat on the low table, seemed to have been chosen for appearance’s sake only.
Time passed with excruciating slowness until he wanted to seek out Catherine in her bedroom and speak with her there. At last she appeared in the doorway, pausing as though to give him a chance to admire her. How long had he ignored how calculated her every move was?
“Michael, darling. This is an unexpected surprise.” Her pink and white gown showed off her narrow waist. While her figure was merely average, her dresses always made the most of it.
“I’m sorry to arrive unannounced, but I had something rather important to discuss with you.”
She smiled as she neared him to wrap her hand around his arm. “I know exactly what you have in mind.” She looked up at him from under her lashes.
“I don’t believe you do,” he said, fighting the urge to remove her hand.
“Of course I do. I can practically read your mind. After all, I’ll soon be your wife.”
“Catherine—” He had to stop her before she made what he had to say even worse.
“No. Allow me to finish. It’s time to set the date for our wedding, isn’t it?” She smiled triumphantly.
“Actually, that isn’t it.” He gave in to the urge to remove her hand. Her gaze narrowed with anger. Or was it suspicion?
“Oh?”
“I’m afraid I am not able to marry you after all.”
“What!” The shriek took him aback. “How dare you! Do you think to make a fool out of me? Make me the laughing stock of the ton?”
“No, of course not.” How like her to be more upset at the idea of being made a fool than not marrying him. “I’ll give you three days to call off our engagement. You can say you’ve changed your mind, or whatever you’d like.”
“No. This i
s not happening.” She spun away to pace the room, hands on hips. “My father will not allow you to break your word.”
“Your father has no say in this.”
She stalked up to him and slapped him across the face, catching him by surprise. “You bastard. Who do you think you are?”
“I—”
She drew back her hand to slap him again, but he grabbed her wrist and held tight. “Enough,” he demanded in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Let me go!” Her voice shrieked loud enough to bring a footman to the open doorway.
“Is all well, miss?” the burly man asked, looking suspiciously at Michael who quickly released her.
“Leave us,” she yelled at the footman.
The servant’s mouth tightened as he shot a warning glare at Michael, but he backed out of the room.
“Who is she?”
“What?” he asked, puzzled at the sudden change in topic.
“The doxie who’s caught your interest.” She gasped, eyes wide. “It’s that woman who’s staying with your grandmother, isn’t it? I saw how you look at her.”
“This has nothing to do with another woman. This is about my realization that we will not suit.” He touched the corner of his sore mouth. Her behavior confirmed how right he was to end the engagement.
She tipped her head back and laughed, the sound grating on his nerves. “Not suit? You must be joking. What does that have to do with marriage?”
“Catherine—”
“Didn’t you learn from what happened to your parents that passion and marriage should never be mixed?”
He stilled as the pain of her barb struck.
“Darling,” her voice softened as she drew near, running her hand down his chest, “I only say that because I care for you. I want the best for you, and that is me.”
His stomach churned as he looked at her. How had he ever thought he could marry her? “I appreciate that. However, this is for both of our benefits. Trust me.”
“I did trust you and look where that got me.” She spun away again, all attempts at sweetness dissolved like sugar in hot water. “I’ve wasted all this time on you. I knew I should’ve set my sights higher.”
Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 19