The Solemn Bell(43)

“Put on a waltz,” he said.

His sister pouted, but did as he asked. The needle scratched as she yanked the record off, and replaced the it with something slower. While she did so, Marcus slipped into the room.

Brody gently reached for Angelica, pulling her into his arms. “You sure you can dance?”

She smiled at his chin. “You don’t have to see to dance. You only have to trust.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. Brody held her closer than he should, and whispered, “You trust me?”

Angelica nodded, but said nothing. Suddenly, the music crackled to life, and he began to lead her through the steps. She was a little stiff, a little rusty, but she knew enough to keep up with him. Once she settled into their rhythm, Angelica seemed to enjoy herself.

Brody enjoyed himself, too—until he realized the words to the song. It was “What’ll I Do?”, an Irving Berlin number about losing the girl one loved, and wondering what life would be like without her. It was damned sad, and he wished Mary Rose hadn’t picked it. What in God’s name would he ever do without his shadow-angel?

Angelica lowered her head. He knew she also understood the melancholy lyrics. Perhaps she was thinking the exact same thing…

He glanced over at Marcus and Mary Rose, who watched wordlessly. Thank God Mother and Father weren’t there, because it was painfully obvious to everyone how he felt about this girl.

He truly was a lovesick fool. “Angelica…”

She rested her forehead against his lapel. “Shh.”

They danced in silence. He’d been so close…so close…and she’d stopped him. She didn’t want his declaration of love. She did not need to hear those words—not as badly as he had needed to speak them.

Yet again, he’d forgot they weren’t sweethearts at all, but a man and his mistress. The way she felt in his arms was an illusion. Part of an act he’d forced her into playing. Angelica was so damned good at it that he might not ever know her true intentions. The realization rocked him like a blow to the gut. When the song ended, Brody fled the room, knocking shoulders with Marcus as he passed through the open doorway.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





Brody walked blindly through the house. For once, he understood how Angelica could do it—pass from room to room without seeing, without needing to see.

He’d made the greatest mistake of his life bringing her here. Why did he think he could go through with this miserable party, knowing she did not love him?

He was on the front steps before he knew what he was doing. Brody staggered down the moonlit path toward the motor-garage. He did not know where he was going to go, but he couldn’t stay in that house. He couldn’t face Angelica, knowing he meant nothing to her. She was everything to him.

He wrenched open the door to the garage, but a distant voice stopped him. He turned to find Marcus walking as quickly as he could down the path from the house. His brother couldn’t manage the gravel well, yet never slowed his pace.

“Brody!” He was breathless when he reached the door. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I don’t know—it doesn’t matter.”

Marcus grabbed his sleeve. “You’re not going to…”

“No. Not that,” he said, fishing on the wall for a spare key ring. “I just had to get out of there.”

“Because of Miss Grey?”

Brody found the keys. “You saw what happened. The way she looked—”

“Like she was in love with you? Yes, I saw it.”

He scoffed. “She’s not in love with me, Markie. I meant to tell you earlier, but there hasn’t been time. Angelica and I are not an item. We’re not engaged, and certainly not in love. Well, she’s not, at any rate. The truth is, she might be pregnant, and the baby may or may not be mine.”

“But, I thought…”

He fumbled to get the Bentley key into the ignition. “I know. So did I.”

Marcus stopped him, yanking the keys from his hand. “Give me that. Now, talk plainly.”

“What more can I say? When I went away to hospital, Angelica thought I’d left for good. She took up with some other chap, and might have let him get her with child. It’s too early to tell.”

“But it might also be yours?”

With a deep breath, he confessed everything—the gory details of Angelica’s betrayal, how he’d dragged her to Shrewsbury in a rage, and, finally, that he’d purposefully come inside her on the chance that she might be pregnant, so that he’d never know if the child wasn’t his.

When it was all out in the open, Marcus stared at him. “My God, Brody. What an ass you are.”

“I don’t want to live like mother and father,” he explained, “but I love Angelica too much to see her out on the street. I want to provide for her and the baby—if there is one—and be part of her life in whatever capacity she’ll allow, even though she doesn’t love me.”

“How do you know she doesn’t love you?”

“Because she fucked another man, Marcus. Weren’t you listening?”

His brother shifted his weight to his good leg, and leaned back against the Bentley. “People sleep with other people all the time. Just because she didn’t save her virginity for you, does not mean she doesn’t love you. I saw her back there in your arms. Although she couldn’t see the way you were mooning at her, you didn’t notice how happy she looked with her head pressed to your shoulder. That girl loves you, Brody. I think the two of you need to sit down and talk.”