What Happened at Midnight(3)
“Not a word.”
“What are your plans? Is that your trunk over there?” His tone was curiously flat as he spoke to her—not devoid of emotion, but withdrawn, as if he’d turned away from his own feelings.
She hadn’t dared to look at the massive steamer trunk where it lay. It had followed her from Southampton to Vienna, and then back for more holidays than she could count. It was large enough to fit all the many components of a lady’s wardrobe, and that made it very large indeed. The rope she’d used to lower it was still fastened to one handle, the brass fittings dented where it had banged against the ground when it had gotten away from her. She glanced over, bit her lip, and nodded.
He didn’t rush over and open it. Thank God.
“Do you have anywhere to go?”
“My father’s second cousin lives in Basingstoke. He’ll take me in.” The lies came easier now.
“And you have a plan.” He nodded. “I wish…” His voice was still flat, but his lips pressed together.
She turned away. “Don’t wish. You’ll only say something that we’ll both regret. After last night, anything more is impossible.”
And yet the possibility of that more kept intruding on her. Was it so little, then, that they’d had between them? She had liked the look of him, the way that he laughed. He’d liked the look of her. That was all. A few months’ acquaintance.
A few kisses, a few conversations—not much, but enough to spark a lifetime of hope. Enough that she’d chosen the possibility of him and family over…
No. She couldn’t let herself think that way any longer. Those memories belonged to another woman entirely—Miss Mary Chartley, the daughter of a respected member of the community. She wasn’t sure who she was in this skin any longer, but she’d ceased to be that person. No matter what she and John might once have been to one another, it wasn’t enough to survive the cataclysm of discovering that her father had taken thousands of pounds from their partnership.
She took off one glove, removed the ring from her finger, and held it out to him.
His flat façade finally cracked. His hand slapped against his trousers, and he turned his head from her. “God damn it.”
“Set it against my father’s debt.”
His jaw worked. It took him a few breaths to regain his composure, but when he turned back, he didn’t take the ring from her. “You’ll need help getting to the station.” Before she knew what was happening, he was reaching for the handle of her trunk.
She couldn’t let him touch that. If he tried to lift it, he might wonder what made her luggage so heavy.
“Really, John,” she said sharply, stepping in front of him. “I should think you’ve done enough.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Doesn’t it? Say you love me, that you would marry me without any fortune, with my father in disgrace. Say your sister would welcome me into the family, knowing that my father stole her son’s future.”
He met her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she saw reflected there. Regret? Anger? “You’re right,” he finally said. “I can’t say anything of the sort. But—”
“I don’t love you, either. If I did…” She slipped the ring into his hand. “If I did, surely I could not give you this with my head held high.”
If he’d put her in mind of thunder before, that flashing look in his eyes was the lightning, spearing her through in one instant. For one second, she thought he was actually going to grab hold of her. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even frown. He simply took a deep breath and shoved the ring into his pocket.
“Well, then.” Another breath, and he looked away. “Good riddance.” His voice dropped low on that last.
It was a good thing her heart had turned to stone, or it might be breaking now. She hadn’t loved him. She couldn’t have. If she’d loved him, she would be weeping now, and she refused to weep. But they would have had a home all of their own. Children. Happiness. Warmth. She would have had John himself, so sweet, so strong, and yet so utterly implacable when betrayed…
She nodded.
He leaned down to her. He didn’t put his hands on her and draw her close, as he might once have done. Still, she felt the echo of those prior intimacies on her skin. On her lips, tingling with his nearness.
He was going to kiss her one last time. She’d yearned for his kisses before, but she didn’t want one now. She wanted her memories of him to remain unsullied by the last twenty-four hours.
But close as he came, his lips didn’t touch hers.
“Mary,” he said softly. “My nephew’s future depends on the income from this partnership. If I find out that you have lied to me, that you know where your father is and where he hid what he stole…” He raised his eyes to hers. “I will escort you to the gates of hell myself.”
Chapter Two
Eighteen months later, Somerset, on the edge of the hills of Exmoor
THE AUGUST SUN BEAT DOWN like the breath of hell itself. Fitting, John Mason decided, for the task that lay ahead.
Not, of course, the work that he was supervising now—that was dead easy, watching the digging in four fields so that he might lay drains that had long since ceased to function. No, it was his other, private task that had left him feeling like one of the damned.