The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(78)

“I won’t apologize for it. I enjoyed our time together, and I think you did, too. It would be a shame for this to end prematurely because of Twenty-Third Street.”

“It’s not merely because of Twenty-Third Street.”

That surprised him. “Then what else?”

“I suppose I realized how little I know you, not to mention how little I matter to you.”

“Wrong.” His voice was sharp and loud in the cavernous room, but he didn’t care. “You know me better than anyone. I’ve told you things no one else knows about me. And you matter, Kat. Very much. To me.” The words were awkward coming off his tongue, but he meant them.

“I don’t think I can forgive it, Preston.”

Fuck, this was what scared him, that he truly couldn’t repair their relationship.

And really, what more could he say? He’d apologized, said he would do it all differently. Told her how he felt about her. If she was hoping for a declaration of love or a marriage proposal, then this was doomed. Even if he accepted saddling her with his burdens, her father would never agree.

Katherine deserved a husband who could take her on trips and give her enough time and attention. One with decency and honor, who wasn’t in the muck with the other vermin every day. Though he’d rebuilt an empire, Preston was hardly quality husband material.

But was he ready to give her up? He knew the answer to that. It was why he’d chased her here. Why he was hanging about, waiting for even a crumb of her affection. He was absolutely besotted with this girl.

He returned his attention to the fish. At least she was here with him. He could feed her dinner and try to convince her to return to the city. Being up here alone wasn’t safe, and he couldn’t watch over her every second.

“I like your lodge,” she said, her head swiveling to take it all in. “How many rooms is it?”

“Eighteen, with five bedrooms. There’s a teahouse pagoda out near the lake, if you’d like to see it tomorrow.”

“I didn’t realize you liked tea.”

“I had it put in for my mother.” Though she rarely came up anymore. She said she hated being here alone, and Preston was usually too busy to make the trip.

“I think this is the first time I’ve heard you mention your mother.”

“Not because I don’t care about her. In fact, I’m overdue for a visit. We don’t see each other as often as we should, which is entirely my fault.”

“Because you’re working.”

He could feel the frown tugging at his lips. Yes, he worked hard, but had he any choice? The Clarke empire, the family name, rested on his shoulders alone, and he’d inherited a steaming pile of shit after he left college. “She understands. After all, she suffered the worst of it with my father.”

“I’m sorry,” Katherine quickly said. “I shouldn’t have passed judgment.”

“It’s all right. And you’re not wrong. I should make more time for her, now that I’ve moved out.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “She likes to remind me I don’t have to save the world in a day.”

“You know, I haven’t the first clue where you live.”

She didn’t? “A town house on East Seventy-Fourth. It’s not very glamorous. I’m hardly ever there.” The rooms weren’t even fully furnished. He’d considered hiring a designer—he knew of several who did that sort of work—but it seemed like a waste. He slept there, that was all. Most nights he ate out, and he always used hotels and Jane Street for liaisons.

“Let me guess? The walls are completely bare.”

He chuckled. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I suppose they are, though I’ve never noticed.”

“That is an absolute travesty.” A companionable silence fell until she said, “My father is engaged.”

“Yes, I heard.”

She recoiled, her skin paling. “Has it been made public, then?”

“No,” he rushed to say. “The Pinkertons told me.”

“Ah.” She traced the marble with her fingertip and worried her lip with her teeth. “It’s only a matter of time before everyone finds out. Do you think . . . ?”

When she didn’t continue, he forced himself to wait patiently. It went against every instinct not to push her, but he sensed that Katherine needed to ask this in her own way. So, he continued gutting fish.

“It sounds absurd to say it out loud,” she finally said, “but do you think I’m only upset about my father and Mrs. Whittier because of my own lack of matrimonial success?”

Guilt stung his insides, but he shoved it aside for the moment. “I don’t think it’s absurd. I think it’s natural to be envious of another person when they have something you want.”

“Have you ever felt that way?”

“Of course. While I was struggling to rebuild Clarke Holdings, I hated every developer in the city. They made it look so easy and I was drowning in paperwork and legalese I barely understood.”

“Including my father?”

“Especially your father.” He put down the last fish and went over to clean his hands at the sink. “But I had more reason to hate him in particular, considering he deserted my family when we needed him the most.”