Suitors and Sabotage(78)

“I am here to offer what solace I can. Ask anything of me. I will fetch your favorite book, discuss Byron’s poetry, or let you borrow my black hessians. Anything, anything at all.”

Ernest had said little when Ben had caught up to him on the island other than to state that Imogene had declined his offer to make an offer.

“She might change her mind, you know. It was a harrowing day, and it might have affected her more than it appeared.” Ben didn’t believe his own words, but he was desperate to see his brother’s heartache expunged—even at his own expense.

Ben was confused, very confused. On one hand, he wanted to shake Imogene for not seeing the value of Ernest’s love.… And on the other hand, he was relieved beyond measure. And the guilt that came with that thought was extreme. It was made worse by the next thought. Could he and Imogene now have a future together? She had broken with Ernest. Where did they go from there?

“I’m fine,” Ernest said in a voice that made a lie of his words.

Ben came to stand beside Ernest. “Her father is wringing a fine peal over her even as we speak.… There is still hope.”

“I think not.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“You have done enough.” Ernest’s tone was razor sharp.

“I beg your pardon?”

A heavy silence engulfed them for several minutes. The longer it lasted the more difficult it was to break. Ben turned his frown toward his brother.

“You have done enough,” Ernest eventually repeated. This time his tone was softer, but his words were still enigmatic.

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, I know.” Ernest shifted, just slightly, but he made a wall with his shoulder. “Could you say my farewells? I’m not up to it right now.”

“Farewells? Is Imogene going somewhere?” Ben’s belly roiled. He needed time, needed the next few days to allow things to settle.… Then he could see how the wind blew. Then he could see if Imogene might be interested in the heart of another Steeple.

“I asked her to go.”

Ben straightened, surprised. It was unlike his brother. Ernest might not be an affable host, but this bordered on boorish—no, in truth, this stepped right past it. “When is she leaving?”

“Immediately—well, as soon as they are packed.”

It took great quantities of resolve and clenched muscles for Ben not to rush from the gallery, calling Imogene’s name. He needed to see her. He needed permission to write. He needed leave from her father to visit Gracebridge Manor. Without establishing some sort of connection, her family could keep her from him. He might never see her again. Never.

A shout formed in his throat, but he swallowed against it. Immediately was not immediate. Preparing the horses would take time, not to mention the process of gathering belongings and persons. And Imogene would not be going alone. All the Chivelys had to be organized. He had time.… He could appear nonchalant.

“Tabard will be off as well, I imagine,” Ben said, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm his racing heart.

“Yes.”

“To think that it was he all along—”

“Perhaps we might discuss our villain some other time. At least you need not be leery anymore.”

“I was never leery.”

“Indeed.”

Ernest lapsed into silence again, and after staring out at the sky with his brother for several minutes more without additional discourse, Ben quietly slipped back down the stairs.

He had to find Imogene … immediately.

*

IMOGENE WAS IN the library. She, too, was staring at nothing. With her eyes turned toward the unlit fireplace, she sat on the edge of the wingback chair as if about to rise—which she did when Ben entered the room.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, as if it had been she who had been searching. Now clothed in a soft teal traveling dress, with a freshly scrubbed face and neatly coifed hair, Imogene’s skin was still pasty white. “I have made my apologies to your grandparents about our hasty departure. They quite understand and are the kindest of souls. You have truly been blessed with your family, Ben.”

The implication, of course, was that hers were far less obliging.

“Ernest wishes us away as soon as possible, and I have set everything onto that path. Mr. Tabard has already departed—without Jake, who refuses to talk to him.” She shook her head. “I am still in shock … never would have imagined that such a quiet man could be so wrongheaded. I am very sorry that we brought danger to your door. One can never tell about people, can one?”

Ben opened his mouth to agree with this rather ambiguous statement, but she carried on.

“I don’t know if you have heard; the Beeswangers will be leaving as well. So in one fell swoop, your company will be gone. They have agreed to take me with them to Shackleford Park as my parents’ carriage will be full, what with Jake joining them to stay at Gracebridge for a time, and there was only room for me beside the driver, and Mrs. Beeswanger thought I need not ride so rough, and Mother thought it best if I visited Shackleford anyway for a few days … weeks … or perhaps longer.” She stopped and gulped at the air, her nervousness clearly running away with her tongue.

“Oh, Imogene, has your father broken with you … over your refusal to entertain an offer from Ernest?”