Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(22)

Thea was trying to make him remember.

She wanted him to remember how it had been before his father left, and his mother died. Before Andrew’s accident, when Cleves Court was still his home. But they’d all slipped through his fingers, and he was left staring down into his empty hands, wondering how it could all vanish in a single breath.

Did she truly believe he could trade one memory for another? Christ, if only it were that simple. If only he could tear one apart from the next, and simply discard those that broke his heart, as if he were exchanging a pair of soiled gloves for fresh new ones, or tossing unwanted cards across a gaming table.

How could she think a party would make him forget what had happened to his mother? To Andrew? Ghosts lurked in every corner of this house, but a few kissing balls and a pretty chit here and there would take it all away, wouldn’t it?

Didn’t Thea understand he’d done everything he could think of to forget? With every step he took in this house, with every breath he drew, he remembered it all. He couldn’t bear to enter the dining room, because when he did he was reminded of every silent meal he’d ever had at that table. He couldn’t look at the pianoforte without seeing his mother, or watch the children playing hide-and-seek and Snapdragon without thinking of Andrew.

And Thea . . .

She’d been his dearest friend. Even after all these years, she still knew him better than anyone else ever could. Of all the people in his life, she was the only one who could possibly understand what it felt like for him to be at Cleves Court.

She knew—she had to know how much it hurt him, and yet she was doing everything she could to manipulate him, as if she didn’t know him at all. Did she want him to pretend he was happy here? Because he couldn’t think of anything worse.

This time, Thea had gone too far.



“If you believed you could make me forget, then you’re a fool, Thea.”

Thea gazed up at Ethan and tried to calm the anxious thumping of her heart. The moment the last guest left the party tonight, he’d taken her wrist in a hard grip and dragged her to his study, and now he had her backed against the closed door, his blue eyes blazing down at her as if he wished he could reduce her to ashes at his feet.

Dear God, she’d known he wouldn’t be pleased about the party tonight, but she hadn’t expected this ice cold fury. “I—forget what? Ethan—”

“Did you think to have the entire business settled before the end of the evening? Have another party, and by the end of it I’d forget everything and be willing to keep Cleves Court open for the rest of eternity. Isn’t that what you thought would happen?”

“No! Of course not. I . . .” But Thea’s eyes darted away from his, and she couldn’t quite force the rest of the words from her throat, because part of her had hoped for exactly that.

“I think you’re lying.” He trapped her against the door with a hand on either side of her head, his arms rigid, and his entire body vibrating with suppressed anger. “I think that’s exactly what you thought would happen.”

Thea gazed up at him, into the eyes she knew so well, and her heart sank like a stone in her chest. Oh, God. She’d only wanted to help him remember. She’d never willingly hurt Ethan, and yet that was what she saw when she looked into those blue depths. Anger, and hurt.

The party tonight—it had been a mistake.

“I—I never thought you’d forget it, Ethan. I know you can’t, but we were happy here once, and I don’t want . . . I can’t let you forget those memories, either.”

His laugh was bitter. “It’s not what we forget that matters, Thea. It’s what we remember.”

Thea hesitated. He was so terribly angry, and yet the hurt in his eyes—she’d put those dark shadows there, and now she’d do whatever she could to take them away.

She reached for him, her hand shaking, and laid her palm against his cheek. “It’s both.” He could make some memories matter more than others. Didn’t he know that? “The things we want to remember—they matter the most. That’s why I remember everything about you, Ethan—because of all the memories I have of Cleves Court, my memories of you matter the most. What do you remember? Tell me.”

He didn’t answer. For a long time he didn’t even move, but then he turned his head and brushed his lips so softly across her palm she thought for a moment she’d imagined the gentle kiss.

“I remember you.” Warm fingers touched her chin, and when she looked up, he was looking down at her, his blue eyes soft and fierce at once. “It’s still sweet underneath, isn’t it, Thea? Such a sharp tongue, but underneath, it’s all honey. It always has been.” He trailed his fingers over her cheek, then brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “It was just one kiss, and so many years ago, but I’ve never forgotten it.”

Thea’s breath caught. “I never have, either.”

She hadn’t forgotten anything about him. Not his laugh, not his voice. Not his eyes. Even now she still dreamed about his eyes, so changeable, and such remarkable shades of blue—sometimes dark like the sea during a storm, sometimes bright like a summer sky, especially when he smiled.

But he didn’t smile much. Not anymore.

“But it’s not enough.” His hand dropped away. “Nothing, not even you, can ever lay the ghosts in this house to rest.”