Deception (Infidelity #3)(57)
A smile brightened my face. “That wasn’t what I meant. I need to look up some things about one of my professors.”
“I’m sure you could ask the Witt lady.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “No, it’s not that big of a deal. My faculty advisor wants to recommend me for an internship…”
“Because you don’t have enough on your plate?”
My lips formed a straight line. “Because she said it would be good for me.” I considered what she’d said. “It would be a good name association. I don’t know. I think it’s something Bryce said to me that’s eating at me.”
Patrick plopped down on the sofa and kicked his feet onto the glass coffee table. Faking a full body shiver, he said, “I’d think most anything he said would eat at you. Kind of like a tapeworm, you know, from the inside until nothing was left. Why are you even considering what he’d say?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused. Two nights ago, when I came over here, I’d learned something about Nox, something unsettling. I still don’t know the details, but it seems that maybe some of Bryce’s warnings weren’t just hot air.”
“You’re not second-guessing that handsome man, are you? Not that you can,” he added.
“I’m not. But what if there’s more that I need to consider? This is about the internship. Bryce warned me that Nox was using me for my name, which is ridiculous since he didn’t even know it. Now I’m wondering about this professor. Would a tobacco name like Montague be an asset to his team?”
“That’s not something I could even begin to answer.”
“Maybe I should ask Bryce?”
Patrick’s nose scrunched.
I shook my head. “Or maybe not. I just don’t know anymore. Sometimes I think—”
The ringing of my phone, the friend-not-foe tune, redirected my attention. The screen read CHELSEA.
A weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying lifted from my chest. I’d missed my best friend, and soon she’d be with me in New York. I hadn’t originally been sure I wanted her here, but after being without her for over a month, I couldn’t wait for any little bit of time that we could find to be together.
“Hey! I’m so glad to see your name! When are you getting your butt to New York?”
Her incomprehensible sobs were all I could hear.
I jumped from the couch, clenching my phone in my grasp. “What is it?” I waited. “Chelsea, talk to me. Are you all right? Where are you?”
SITTING IN THE dark near the window in the library had become one of my favorite places to be. In the evenings I’d often make my way to the serenity of the solitude there. The velvet chaise near the large leaded-glass panes provided the perfect view. Though it was early autumn, the evening and early nighttime air was still warm. I liked to open the window and enjoy the gentle breeze as it silently fluttered the drapes. The scene below rarely changed. In some ways the moonlit, pristine manicured lawns, various gardens, pool, and lake gave me a sense of immortality.
As I brought my wine to my lips, the thought of immortality made me snicker. Just a little over a week ago, I was ready to test my mortality. My shoulders straightened. That was the past. Now I had a new purpose, a reason to move forward.
Settling against the plush velvet while taking in the never-changing scene a story below, I contemplated something Alexandria had said the last time she was here. She’d said that things at Montague Manor never changed. Even in her youth, she understood what generations before her had known: Montague Manor remained the same.
Throughout my life I’d found a sense of comfort in that. The landscape before me was the same as it had been for my mother and most likely for my grandmother. Even with consistent renovations and updated amenities, the manor and grounds were timeless.
I used to wonder what it all looked like hundreds of years ago, when the tobacco plantation was first settled. I’d ponder if the first Charles Montague knew how far-reaching his investment would take his ancestors or the impact it would have on their lives. Would it have been better to have descended from those who lived in one of the hundreds of tiny homes that once covered this property?
Those were the people who were now free of the burden that came with being a Montague.
Over the years, the peacefulness of the library had become my refuge. I’d long since given up the idea that the bedroom suite I shared with Alton was a place of anything but misery. The physical abuse wasn’t constant. It was the mental strain, the constant concern over my husband’s state of mind. The only reprieves came in his absence, which were too infrequent for my liking.
I sipped my wine.
If only he liked fast cars the way Russell had.
Since my visit to Hamilton and Porter a week before, my mind had been consumed with the possibilities of my discovery. I’d studied each photograph of each page, the article, and each and every word of the codicil. For days I worried that Alton had been alerted to my visit. I waited for the proverbial shoe to drop.
It never did.
My only conclusion was that Ralph Porter feared Alton Fitzgerald’s wrath at allowing me access to my father’s last will and testament even more than I was afraid of my husband’s reaction to learning of my exploration. That was fine with me. I wasn’t ready to announce my findings. I still wasn’t sure of their consequences. After all, Alton still professed his desire for Alexandria and Bryce’s marriage. He even appeared genuinely concerned when we learned of Alexandria’s horrifying experience just yesterday.