“I’m sorry,” Christoph said. He’d met Griffin at the hospital, which was where he’d made his first stop after arriving in Vienna. “I know how much this place meant to you.”
“It was everything.” The proof that he could succeed without his family’s fortune or his rank. A slap in his father’s face and a means by which to survive. He walked forward on heavy feet and stepped through what remained of the charred doorframe. A piece of it broke off in his hand when he gripped it, abrading his skin. “At least Edvard survived.”
“And with his eyes and hands intact. All he spoke about whenever I visited him was how life wouldn’t be worth living if he ended up unable to keep making clocks.”
Griffin understood, for he shared that same passion. But there was more for him to live for now than clocks and mechanical toys alone. There was Emily. Her love was enough to make him smile even as the remains of his business crunched beneath the soles of his boots.
“I had meant to leave everything to him when I decided to marry and live in England. But now…” He bent to retrieve an object that stood out amidst the soot covered rubble because of its rounded edges. Even though it must have rained a few times since the fire, the water had failed to wash away the grime that lay thick on the ground. Above, where Griffin had once made his home, was nothing but a view of the clear blue sky.
He turned the item over in his hands and considered the chipped enamel which had once depicted a colorful garden where a lady walked arm in arm with a gentleman. Now, only hints of the image peeked out from beneath shades of gray. Inhaling deeply, Griffin turned the key that protruded from the back of what had once been a music box. It had been made with the added purpose of hiding jewelry, the inside lined with a vibrant red velvet that appeared to be oddly intact when Griffin tipped open the lid. The tune the pins were designed to play filled the air with a lyrical sound as the metal comb inside the mechanism slid over each individual one.
“I can fix this,” he said, more to himself than to Christoph. When he’d left England, it had been with every intention of selling whatever remained of the property, even if it was nothing more than a plot of land. But now, being here and seeing it for himself, having visited Edvard and been reminded of his loyalty, Griffin felt the need to stick with his initial plan. The plan he’d had before he’d learned of the fire.
He turned to Christoph. “I want to rebuild the shop and leave it for Edvard to manage.”
Christoph tilted his head and studied Griffin with the assessing gaze of a man who was not the least bit surprised by such an idea. “How can I help?”
Griffin blew out a breath. Helping his friend pay off a gambling debt years ago when they’d first met by teaching him how to improve his card play was now paying off. “I must return to England, so if you can oversee the project, I would be eternally grateful.”
Christoph grinned. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment, Griffin. You’ve always refused my help before, but I finally have a chance to repay my debt.”
“You’ve done so repeatedly throughout the years by giving me your friendship and your advice.” Griffin pondered the logistics for a moment, then added, “I’ll give you ten percent of the business in return.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” When Christoph prepared to speak once again, Griffin said, “I insist.”
Emily had remained at Montvale for the duration of the house party, but her mood had not been the best for keeping company with others. She’d missed Griffin terribly and continued to suffer from the void created by his absence. Not even Mary’s suggestion that Emily help with some of the baking had lifted her spirits. Only the children managed to do so a little as they reenacted parts of their play with loud animal sounds and ridiculous gestures.
She’d regretted her lack of enthusiasm during their first performance, but the news of Griffin’s departure had been so fresh on her mind, she’d found it impossible to focus. Hence, she’d encouraged the children to remind her of what a lion sounded like or how zebras whinnied until everyone else was exhausted by the noise. Even Cassandra, who never minded the children’s antics, had started looking put out.
But Emily was now back in London with her parents and sister. Her mother had barely removed her bonnet upon their arrival before she’d proceeded to plan the coming weeks. Besides visits to the modiste where not only a wedding gown but an entire trousseau would be ordered, Emily was going to have to decide on a menu for the wedding breakfast, create a guest list, and send out invitations. None of these chores appealed, but she knew they mattered to her mother and to the dowager duchess, so Emily pushed herself to participate with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
“You are so incredibly lucky,” Laura informed her during the second evening of their stay in London. She’d found Emily hiding in the library which was one room in the house where their mother rarely set foot.
Emily put down the engineering book she’d been reading. It had been her grandfather’s and was therefore slightly outdated, but the section on cogs and gears provided her with some information that would hopefully give her a better understanding of Griffin’s interests. She regarded her sister as she approached and sat down across from her on the sofa.
“I know,” Emily murmured.
“Do you? Really?”
The urgency with which she posed the question gave Emily pause. She tilted her head. “I believe so, but I get the feeling that you do not think that I do.”
Laura flopped back against the seat cushion with a sigh. “Griffin is everything a woman might dream of in a husband. He will be yours, Emily, albeit with some delay, but yours nonetheless. Yet you have been moping about since the day he left as if the world might be ending.” She frowned while giving Emily the most direct perusal she’d ever been subjected to by her sister. “It’s not fair to those of us who are struggling to make even a half decent match.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
“You and I have not been in touch much these past six years. Granted, you are four years older than I, but we are still sisters. And although I will agree that Mama made life much more difficult for you, it has not been so easy for me either. Especially since I have very few friends and invariably end up without a dance partner when I attend balls.”
Emily sucked in a breath. Laura was a wallflower too and she, self-obsessed woman that she was, had failed to realize it. She’d been so caught up in her own wants and needs, she’d neglected to notice that her sister might not be coping with Society as well as she’d thought.
“But you’re so beautiful,” Emily murmured. She shook her head, incredulous. “I cannot believe there are gentlemen in England who aren’t vying for your attention.”
“Only fortune hunters.”
“But why?” It made little sense.
“I think,” Laura said, her voice low and hesitant, “that you might have something to do with it.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open. She straightened in her seat. “You mean to tell me that after all these years my decision to move to Clearview still hangs over your head?”
“There are those who believe you’ve been living in sin.” This last bit was said so quietly, Emily had to strain in order to hear her.
Georgina had alluded to this, but Emily had thought it an exaggeration and a means by which to secure her marriage to Griffin at the time. Had she known…what would she have done? What could she have done? She wasn’t quite sure. The repercussions of the hasty decision she’d once made had left a mark that she’d been unaware of.
“When I marry Griffin,” Emily told Laura carefully, “this family will be related to the Duke and Duchess of Camberly. I can only promise you when that happens, I will use whatever influence I have to make sure you’re accepted by the ton and that you are given every chance you need to meet the gentleman of your dreams.” Because one thing was certain, Laura deserved to be happy.
18
The days were longer now than
when Griffin had left for Austria, the late afternoon sunlight casting an almost magical glow upon the English countryside. He’d arrived in Cardiff just two hours ago and was now on his way to London by post chaise. The letter he’d mailed to Emily a week earlier had said to expect him on June tenth, but he’d settled things with Christoph and Edvard sooner than he’d expected and had not felt compelled to linger in Vienna longer than necessary.
By the time he reached London, it was past six o’ clock. Excitement bubbled inside him, both at the prospect of seeing Emily again, but also because he could hardly wait to give her the gift he’d made for her. So he decided to make a quick stop at Camberly House to inform his brother that he had returned, only to learn that he, their mother, and Mary were all out for the evening.
“They are dining with the Howards at Vauxhall Garden,” Murdoch, Caleb’s butler, informed him.
Griffin put his hat back on. “Then I shall find them there. Thank you, Murdoch”
He hailed a new hackney and asked the driver to make haste. Vauxhall wasn’t far. He’d be there within fifteen minutes at most. And then he would finally see Emily again.
A smile tugged at his lips. He’d bloody well kiss her too, regardless of who might be watching. The mere memory of her rosy lips was like an invigorating tonic. It banished the exhaustion of travel from his body and nearly made him leap from the carriage when it reached the pleasure garden.
Collecting himself, he managed to slow his pace a little. At least enough not to look as though reaching his destination with haste was a matter of life and death.
A group of laughing young men stumbled into his path, forcing Griffin to halt his progress for a moment. “He just got engaged,” one of them grinned.
“Congratulations,” Griffin said, trying not to sound irritated.
The young men bowed flamboyantly, all clearly in their cups. Nothing would ruin their good cheer this evening and nothing would ruin his either. So he went around them and headed for the pavilion where the supper boxes overlooked a crowded dance floor. Griffin scanned the tables and immediately spotted Caleb, whose head was bowed in Mary’s direction while he spoke.
Shifting his gaze, Griffin considered the rest of the group while continuing forward. There was his mother, Mr. and Mrs. Howard, Laura, Miss Amanda Partridge…
He frowned. What was she doing here and where the hell was Emily? Disappointment threatened to crush his elation. She was supposed to be here.
Mary said something to Laura and pointed toward the dance floor. Griffin instinctively turned and as he did so, as he took in the scene before him, time seemed to slow to a halt. The music played by four violinists stabbed at his soul until it started to bleed, his chest strained against his heart, stifling the beat. Because there she was, dancing with Mr. Damnhimtohell Partridge.
There had been moments in his life when it had felt like the world as he knew it had been flipped upside down. Like the day he’d discovered that Clara was married or later, when he’d learned George had died. That same feeling of complete loss overwhelmed him for a second before anger set in and a rage, unlike any he’d ever known, caused fire to burn through his veins. Griffin clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. How dare he? And how dare she? Griffin made a deliberate effort to breathe. The air flowing into his lungs felt heavy and uncomfortable, like there was more than there was room for and it was suffocating him. To think that he had hastened back to her, driven by love! He almost laughed at his own stupidity. Loyalty was a rare quality to find in a woman. He’d known this and yet he’d allowed himself to be caught in Emily’s snare.
She knew how he felt about Partridge and yet, here she was, dancing with him as if Griffin didn’t exist, as if her attachment to him didn’t matter. And the bastard was grinning down into her upturned face as if he’d just conquered the world.
Griffin flexed his fingers.
Christ, how he’d love to punch him in the face. But having his mother witness such poor conduct – subjecting her to scenes of violence – gave him pause. He winced, hating the helplessness he was being forced to endure on account of propriety. Perhaps a visit to Gentleman Jackson’s would help him alleviate some of his anger.
He prepared to turn, but just then Emily looked his way, her eyes widening with surprise as her steps faltered in the middle of a turn. Griffin smirked. Just as well that she should know that he’d seen her. When she twisted back to look in his direction again, he executed a mocking bow before turning away. With clipped footsteps and a renewed purpose, he strode toward the garden’s exit. A carriage was what he needed now, followed by a sound exchange of fisticuffs and a bottle of brandy with which to drown his pain.
Emily stared after Griffin’s retreating back. He’d returned, his handsome face causing a burst of euphoria to spread through her veins. Until she’d noticed his expression. And now he was walking away, intent on leaving her because…because he didn’t know what had happened during his absence and because seeing her with David had caused him to think the worst.
“I have to go,” she said, causing David to knit his brow in confusion. “You must excuse me.”
She didn’t even wait for him to lead her off the dance floor, but left him there in her desperation to reach the man she loved so she could explain. Her gown tangled around her legs, slowing her movement. Had he not seen his family sitting in the supper box? Surely he would know that they would not sanction her throwing Griffin over for another man? But no, logical reasoning had likely abandoned him because of who that man was. And because of how deeply Clara had once hurt him so long ago.
Heart racing, Emily wound her way between people enjoying an evening stroll. She quickened her pace to a near run when she spotted the top of Griffin’s head near the exit.
“Watch it,” an older man told her when she accidentally bumped against him.
Emily muttered a quick, “Excuse me,” and hurried on her way. When she stepped out onto the pavement, she looked both ways, studying both pedestrians and carriages.
There!
She only just managed to catch a quick glimpse of Griffin’s broad back before he disappeared into a hackney. “Stop!” Sprinting forward as fast as her feet would carry her, Emily called again for the coachman to wait while passersby stopped to stare at her like she was some sort of lunatic making her escape from Bedlam.
The carriage started rolling forward, heedless of her commands, and without even thinking, she launched herself at the door and yanked it wide open. One foot found the step, allowing her to climb up into the dim interior just as the carriage rolled into the street. Panting, she pulled the door shut behind her and collapsed on the bench.
Her gaze met Griffin’s and a shudder went through her. He was closer now, allowing her to better see the extent of his anger.
“Pursuing me isn’t helping my effort to escape you,” he snapped.
“It is good to see you as well,” she told him in her most soothing tone. “You cannot know how much I have missed you.”
A muscle ticked at the edge of his mouth, and his eyes darkened like thunderclouds ready to unleash lightning. “Not enough, it would seem, or I would not have returned to find you in Mr. Partridge’s arms.”
The fact that he was almost shouting at her alerted Emily to the depth of the anguish she’d caused him. Aware of his past experience, she sympathized, even as his temper riled her. “I am not Clara,” she told him bluntly. “Deceit is not in my nature, Griffin, and you,” she pointed a finger straight at his chest, “you have to be able to trust me. Because if you can’t do that, then what hope do we have of being happy together?”
He snorted with displeasure. “Trust you?” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I returned to London as quickly as possible because I was eager to see you. Instead I find you gazing adoringly up at another man, and you want me to trust you?” He leaned forward, his expression hard and unyielding. “Do not make the error of thinking me a fool, Emily.” He leaned back again and averted his gaze, gi
ving his attention to the window.
Chilling dread drove its way through Emily’s bones like nails being hammered through wood. “You…you have it all wrong.” Her throat was starting to close, making it hard for her to get the words out. Pain spliced her heart and her eyes now burned with an awful hint of oncoming tears.
A scoff was Griffin’s only response.
Emily clutched her hands in her lap. “We were celebrating Laura’s engagement.”
“Then I must ask you to wish her well, for I bear no ill will toward her.”
Emily swallowed. She started reaching for him but stopped. “You don’t understand.”
“On the contrary, I think I understand everything perfectly. You enjoyed the attention I gave you, and when I was gone you missed that. This caused you to seek it elsewhere, to fill the void my absence had cause and to—”
“Laura and David are to be married, Griffin.” Emily blurted the words without finesse, throwing them at him in the hope they would stick. She blinked in response to his frozen expression. “Mr. Partridge proposed this morning and Laura accepted. I was dancing with him as his future sister-in-law. Nothing more.”
The truth slammed Griffin hard against the ground as the words Emily had spoken sank in.
Gripping the seat, he allowed his body to accept that there was no need for a fight, that he had been wrong and that he had misjudged the situation entirely. The tension in his muscles eased and his jaw relaxed. The haze of anger that had clouded his brain like a thick, blinding fog faded away. He stared across at Emily, at her pained expression and shimmering eyes. She was close to tears though she forced them back. He had done that, fool that he was. He’d let jealousy lead him down an irrational road and as a result, he’d hurt her again.
Christ!
“Emily, I—”
“You believed the worst of me, Griffin. You…” Her voice dropped and she closed her eyes. “You didn’t trust me.”
“I’m sorry.” God help him, he was an ass. Advising Langdon not to marry her had been done before he’d gotten to know her. She’d forgiven him for that reason. Because he hadn’t owed her anything at the time. But he did owe her now, and rather than believe in her as he ought to have done, he’d chosen to think that she’d cast him aside for Partridge. “I promised never to hurt you again and I failed, Emily. What happened with Clara still haunts me. I keep fearing I’ll be deceived once more and…there’s also the scar.”
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