Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(41)

He wasn’t anything.

When he didn’t answer, Thea stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. “What’s happened?”

He drained his whiskey and poured another measure into his glass from the decanter sitting on his desk. “What would you say, Thea, if I told you I intend to close Cleves Court, after all? What if I told you I wanted us to leave for London together tomorrow, and never see this house again?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’d do whatever I had to do to change your mind.”

“Whatever you had to do,” he repeated. He’d known it, but hearing her say it aloud was like a blade slicing into his heart. “Take me into your bed, you mean? Would you try and convince me you loved me, so I’d keep Cleves Court open?”

Thea’s face went pale. “I—how can you ask me that?”

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart.” He lingered on the last word, twisting it into something ugly. “It’s a simple question. Tell me, Thea. How far would you go to save this house?”

For a long time she didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands, clenched into fists in front of her, but at last she whispered. “It’s not about the house anymore, Ethan. It never was, really. You’re asking the wrong question.”

“Oh? Enlighten me then, won’t you? What’s the right question?”

She drew in a deep breath, and when she raised her eyes to meet his, her gaze never wavered. “You should ask me how far I’d go to save you.”

“Me?” His laugh was bitter. “The best thing for me would be to leave this house forever, and never look back. I’d only ever keep it open for you, and you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

“No. You can’t lock your memories away, Ethan.” She came around the desk, knelt at his feet, and took his hands in hers. “Don’t you see? You can close Cleves Court, and leave Cornwall forever, but you’ll take all this hurt with you. You can’t outrun your ghosts.”

He jerked his hands away. “I’ve done a bloody good job of it so far. London’s a long way from Cornwall, love.”

“It’s not far enough. No place is. You think you can run from your past, or lock it away by locking the doors of Cleves Court, but there’s only one way to make your peace with such intense grief, and that’s to go through it. Your father knew it. By the time he faced the truth, it was too late for him, but—”

“My father? Don’t talk to me about my father. He was a bloody coward.”

She didn’t argue with him. It was the truth, and Thea knew it as well as he did. As long as all was well and the sun was shining, John Fortescue was a loving father and a devoted husband. He’d been so proud of his sons, especially Andrew, his treasured heir, but as soon as Andrew’s fits started, his father had fled to London, leaving his family alone and broken behind him.

“But you’re not a coward, Ethan, and it’s not too late for you.”

Ethan looked down into her face, into that beautiful face that would forever haunt his dreams, and God, he wanted so badly to listen to her, to believe everything she’d done was for him, but how could he? She loved this house. It was part of her, and he . . .

He was nothing but the man who’d walked away from her all those years ago, who’d left her here alone to struggle with unspeakable grief.

“I’m just like him, Thea. I’m a coward, too.”

“No, you’re not, and for all his faults, your father knew it.” Her green eyes pleaded with him. “You’re the reason he never closed Cleves Court, Ethan.”

For a moment he simply stared at her, not sure what she meant, but then his throat tightened as suspicion began to claw to the surface. He gripped Thea hard by the shoulders. “He never closed the house because of me? How . . . how do you know that?”

“I should have told you before now.” She drew in a shaky breath and let her forehead fall against his knee. “After Andrew . . . after we buried him, your father didn’t go back to London. You left, but he stayed at Cleves Court.”

“How long?” He tore the words from his throat. “How long did he stay here?”

“A few months. He hoped if he stayed here he’d find a way to accept it, to forgive himself, but in the end he knew it was too late for him, and he returned to London.” She lifted her head to look into his face. “But he never gave up on you, Ethan. He hoped someday you’d realize you couldn’t run, and you’d come back home. He asked me to stay here, and he made me promise . . .”

Ethan didn’t want to hear anymore, but he had to know all of it—every last secret. “What? He made you promise what?”

“To help you.” She looked up at him, her dark lashes wet with tears. “He knew you’d come here to close the house after he died, and he made me promise, when that day came, that I’d do whatever I could to help you find peace.”

For a moment Ethan couldn’t speak, but then he jerked away from her and shot to his feet. “So these few weeks—they were all about fulfilling a promise to my father? Did you promise him you’d let me between your legs, too? Was that part of your agreement?”

Thea staggered to her feet, but she was shaking. “Don’t do this, Ethan.”