by Bree Wolf
“I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Searching his face, she tried to understand what was going on. “Let me just get my jacket and bonnet.”
As she tried to step away, he held her back. “There’s no need,” he replied, his voice throaty, almost breathless. “If you don’t mind, I would like to have a word with you.” He swallowed. “In private.”
Jo’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Brendan assured her, suddenly unable to suppress the grin that stole onto his face. “I’ve just come from speaking to your father.”
“Oh!” was all Johanna could manage as realisation dawned. While her heart seemed to pick up its pace, her mind slowed down, barely able to form a coherent thought. Before she knew it, Jo stood in her parents’ drawing room and Brendan took a knee, her right hand clasped in his as he looked up at her with shining eyes.
The words he spoke were beautiful, and yet, Johanna had trouble holding on to them. They slipped away before she could make sense of them. Still, the warmth of his hand on hers felt safe and reassuring. His brown eyes shone with devotion, and Johanna felt herself warm at the thought of having him by her side for all the days to come.
“I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life without you,” Brendan told her, his face aglow with happiness as well as a hint of tension, “please do me the honour of accepting my hand.”
Seeing the honest regard he had for her in his eyes, Johanna smiled, her other hand settling on his as it held hers. In her mind’s eye, she could see the smiling faces of her friends as they cheered her on, remembering how they had each vowed to marry for love. At the time, it had not seemed possible. But now?
This was her chance. If ever Jo could be happy again, it was with this wonderful man right here. All she had to do was say yes.
At the thought, her heart skipped a beat, and a warm smile drew up the corners of her mouth. She felt Brendan’s hand relax and saw utter joy come to his eyes as he read her answer before she had given it. Inhaling a deep breath, Jo sighed, “That was beautiful, Brendan. Of course, I’ll accept.”
Rising to his feet, Brendan swept her into his arms and swung her in a circle, his happiness intoxicating, like a drug stealing into her blood and infecting her as well.
Laughter flew from Johanna’s lips as she returned his embrace. “Stop! You’ll lose your step, and we’ll both crash to the ground.”
Setting her back down, Brendan gazed down at her, holding both her hands in his. “I know it’s a cliché, but you’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
“I’m glad−”
A knock interrupted their joyous moment.
“Excuse me, Miss Grey,” Jackson, their butler, apologised with a slight nod, his eyes distant as though he had no clue what had just happened in the drawing room, “but there’s a Lord Ashfield here to see you.”
Johanna’s heart slammed to a halt, and she would have dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes if Brendan had not been holding on to her hands. “Colin,” she whispered under her breath as the world began to spin.
“Are you all right?” Brendan asked, concern coming to his eyes. “Who is he?”
“He…” All but gasping for breath, Jo tried to focus her thoughts. “He’s an old friend,” she finally said, lifting her gaze to meet Brendan’s. “We grew up together, but I haven’t seen him in years.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to budge. “I didn’t even know he was back in England.”
Brendan smiled at her. “Then his appearance here must be quite the shock for you.” Turning to look at Jackson, he said, “Would you have some tea and biscuits brought in? I think Miss Grey could use a refreshment.”
“Certainly,” Jackson replied with a slight bow. “What am I to tell Lord Ashfield?”
Before Jo could will herself to speak, Brendan said, “Send him in.” Then he turned to look at her, a smile on his face as he squeezed her hands. “You two can catch up while I go and inform my mother.” A wicked gleam came to his eyes. “You do not have your heart set on arranging your own wedding, do you?”
A chuckle left his lips, and Jo did her best to smile while her heart seemed to be faltering in her chest. Was this what a heart attack felt like?
And then the door opened, and from one moment to the next, Colin Grenville, only son to Lord Attington, was suddenly back in Johanna’s life.
After four years.
Was this a dream? Was she ill and hallucinating?
Stepping into the room, Colin’s emerald gaze found hers with lightning speed. For a short moment, he seemed to pause, drawing in a slow breath, as though their reunion had knocked the air from his lungs as well.
His dark auburn hair lay in fluid waves upon his head, a far cry from the unruly mess Jo remembered. His attire, too, spoke of a young gentleman and not of a boy running wild. Still, Jo could see something of the boy she had once known lurk beneath the surface of this tall stranger. He stood with purpose, his shoulders broad and his chin raised, as his gaze took in the room without ever leaving hers. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward. “I bid you a good day, Jo. It has been a long time.”
“Hello,” Jo breathed, wondering if he had even heard her, her voice almost inaudible even to her own ears.
A moment of silence followed…and then stretched into another.
Brendan cleared his throat, and Jo blinked.
Forcing her gaze away from Colin, she swallowed, seeing her fiancé's eyes narrow in confusion before they glanced sideways to look at their visitor. Colin in turn seemed only to see her, his gaze on hers whenever she dared look at him.
“Oh, pardon me,” Jo said, trying her best to give Brendan a relaxed smile. “Brendan, this is Colin Grenville, Baron Ashfield, an…an old friend.”
Colin’s gaze narrowed for a split second before it swung sideways, taking in the man beside her for the first time.
“Colin,” Jo whispered, wondering how long it had been since she had last spoken his name…in his presence, “this is Brendan Pearce, Viscount Kenwood, my…fiancé.”
Looking at Colin only out of the corner of her eye, Jo wondered about the tension that suddenly seemed to grip him. His gaze hardened, and the muscle in his jaw twitched.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Brendan chimed in, a polite smile directed at Colin. “I hear you’ve been on the continent.” He glanced at Johanna. “I would love to stay, but I’m afraid my mother is expecting me.”
“Give her my best,” Jo mumbled, more from habit than actual care as Brendan took his leave, giving her hands a gentle squeeze before he walked out the door.
The moment he was gone, Colin stepped forward, his eyes hard as they held hers. “How long have you been engaged?”
Chapter Nine − Not in the Nick of Time
The woman before him was a far cry from the girl Colin remembered.
Although her eyes still shone with the same strength as before, accentuating the dark golden shine of her unruly curls and the soft glow of her sun-warmed skin, she seemed a frightened creature. Her chin no longer rose in defiance, nor did she move with that confidence of someone who was at peace with oneself. Instead, sadness and uncertainty clung to her features, and she barely dared meet his eyes as though she feared his judgement.
And yet, Colin’s soul recognised her as though they had been together every day for the past four years. The look in her eyes instantly brought back the memories of their shared youth, and he could see plain as day the pain they still caused her.
Same as him.
The bond was still there, and Colin felt it in every fibre of his body, and then she spoke, shattering his world once again. “Colin, this is Brendan Pearce, Viscount Kenwood, my…fiancé.”
Anger gripped him, and he had to fight the urge to grab her and shake her until her teeth chattered. How dare she enter into an engagement when he had been rushing back to London with all haste in order to see her? To…? Did she not know how much she m
eant to him? Did she not feel the same?
Inhaling a deep breath, Colin felt his muscles tense as his gaze sought hers; however, she refused to look at him and he wondered if she knew how devastating her news was to him.
Dimly, Colin was aware that Kenwood−or whatever his name was? −was speaking. The words, however, never reached Colin’s mind. Only when the other man walked out the door did his mind regain control, urging him to remain calm so as to get the answers he sought.
With purpose in his step, Colin moved toward her and her eyes swung around to meet his as though he had slapped her. “How long have you been engaged?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Then her lips parted, and three words flew out. “Perhaps ten minutes.”
Colin’s jaw dropped, and he groaned as though that man Kenwood had punched him in the stomach. “Ten minutes?” he demanded, barely aware of the harshness of his tone as he advanced on her. “Ten minutes?”
Jo’s eyes widened as she took a step backwards before her feet suddenly stilled. A small flame sparked in her dark eyes, and her chin rose a fraction as she met his eyes.
Unable not to, Colin rejoiced. This was the woman he remembered!
“Do not snap at me like this, Colin Grenville,” she rebuked him, hands rising to settle on her hips, “or I shall have you removed from my home. Is that clear?” A small flame burnt in her eyes, one Colin remembered only too well.
A smile stole onto his face. “I’ve missed you, Jo,” he whispered as he looked down at her, feeling the same flutter in his belly that he had felt before−shortly before Owen’s death. “You always had a way with words.”
The left corner of her mouth quirked as though she wished to smile, but the look on her face remained hard, cautious perhaps. “Why are you here?” she asked, and her voice seemed to falter just a bit on the last word.
“Do you want me to go?” Colin dared her, remembering the ease with which they used to speak.
Her eyes narrowed, and he knew that she felt it, too. “I did not say that. Do not put words in my mouth.”
A chuckle rose from his lips, and as though no time had passed, he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I see you have not changed.” It was more of a question than a statement, but he wanted to believe it with all his heart.
The moment his fingers brushed by her ear, Jo sucked in a sharp breath before she dropped her gaze and stepped around him, walking to the window, her back to him. “Why have you come?” she asked once more, and he thought to detect a hint of apprehension in her voice.
Unable to bear the distance between them, Colin went after her. His hand reached for her arm, pulling her back around to face him. “I’ve come to see you. I came the moment I heard you’d returned to London.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You heard? From whom?”
“Does it matter?”
“You never even wrote to me, and now you came all this way only to see me?” She shook her head, trying to step back, but his hand held her to him. “You’ll excuse me if I have trouble believing this.”
Searching her face, Colin tried to understand the source of her anger. “You didn’t write to me either if I may remind you.”
Her mouth clamped shut as though he had just caught her in a lie. “I didn’t know where you were.”
His gaze remained locked on hers, their eyes speaking more truthfully than their words. “That’s an excuse. You didn’t write to me because of Owen.”
“Owen?” Her brows knitted together.
Colin swallowed hard. Never before had he spoken about his oldest friend to anyone. “You…you blame me for his death?”
“What?” Her eyes widened in shock, and the air rushed from her lungs that for a moment he feared she would faint. “Why would you think that? I never blamed you. I never once thought…” Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked them rapidly. “I know that Owen’s parents blamed you, but they were wrong. You were always a good friend to Owen, and he did what he did because he chose to.” Giving him a sad smile, she shook her head. “There was nothing you could have done to stop him.”
“I know that,” Colin whispered, his heart feeling a thousand times lighter after hearing her say these words. “I know that it wasn’t my fault, and yet, I cannot help but feel−”
“Guilty?”
Seeing tears spill over and run down her face, Colin pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “You feel it, too?”
She nodded against his shoulder as her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. “I’ve missed you, Colin.”
Leaning back, Colin grasped her chin, tilting her head upward. Her brown eyes still shone with tears as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I understand,” came her reply, soft and simple, and Colin knew that she meant it.
For a long time, they stood in each other’s embrace, their eyes locked as they silently shared the pain they had endured over the past few years ever since they had lost their best friend…as well as each other.
Chapter Ten − The Fittings of an Old Life
Colin’s first thought after learning of Jo’s engagement was to leave London immediately.
Still, as much as he tried to convince himself that it was the right course of action, he could not bring himself to go. Whenever he was about ready to order his bags packed, her face would drift before his eyes, her own dark and full of sadness, and he knew he had to see her again.
While his heart ached for her grief, Colin could not deny that their short encounter the other day had changed him. He already felt lighter as though a mere look into her soulful eyes, those eyes that knew him so well, had somehow lessened his burden.
And so, he stayed, hoping to see her again, wondering if he should simply call on her. But what about her fiancé?
Attending a ball at the Dashwood townhouse, hoping that Jo would find her way there that night as well, Colin greeted Charles Dashwood, second son−by only a few minutes−of the late Lord Norwood. “Good evening, sir. I believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your brother, Lord Norwood, upon my stay in Italy.”
Mr. Dashwood’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have? I admit I haven’t heard from Robert in quite a while. I hope he is well.”
Colin nodded. “He is.”
Considering they were twins, Colin was not surprised to see Robert’s mirror image on his brother. Still, the resemblance ended there. While the younger brother looked like the image of a perfect English gentleman, impeccably dressed and his hair cut in the latest fashion, the older sibling had always reminded Colin of a pirate with loose-fitting clothes and his hair grown long and tied together in the back of his neck. While Mr. Dashwood appeared to be a dedicated historian, Robert had always travelled the world with no intention of ever settling down. As far as Colin knew he never stayed in England for long.
More than once, Colin had felt alone and abandoned during his years on the continent. Upon one such occasion, he had stumbled upon Robert Dashwood, Lord Norwood, in a drunken stupor and assisted him in locating his apartment. They had talked through the night until Robert had fallen asleep with his head on the table. After that, Colin had been glad to call him friend.
Although their ways had often taken them into different parts of the world, they had always stumbled upon one another here and there. Upon leaving Venice, Robert had bade Colin to give his brother his best and assure him that he was well…and lousy at writing letters.
Colin chuckled, “He had every intention of sending a letter to you but−”
“He couldn’t find any ink or paper?” Mr. Dashwood asked, rolling in eyes in good humour. “Yes, I’ve heard that before.”
“I assure you he does not mean to cause you unease.”
“Robert never does.” Mr. Dashwood paused, his gaze studying Colin’s face. “But I suppose you know that.”
“I’m aware, yes.”
“Welcome then. I hope we’l
l have a chance to speak later,” Mr. Dashwood said, his gaze honest, and Colin knew that as different as the two brothers were, they loved each other dearly. In truth, ever since meeting Robert and hearing from him about his twin Charles, Colin had felt reminded of his own relationship to Owen. Indeed, they had been different as well−perhaps not as much as night and day−but had always stood as one, there to offer aid whenever the other had had need of it.
It was a powerful bond and devastating once severed.
Colin hoped that Robert and Charles would never have to find out how that felt.
With slow steps, Colin stepped into the ballroom, his gaze sweeping over the attending guests as his heart beat with excitement as well as a hint of apprehension. Would she be here tonight? What would she look like not dressed in a simple dress, here and there torn from climbing trees and slipping through thickets, but in a gown accentuating those dark eyes of hers?
The answer was - magnificent.
Blinking, Colin swallowed when his gaze finally found her, standing in a small circle with her parents, her grandmother as well as…Kenwood and an older lady, presumably the man’s mother. While the rest of her company chatted animatedly, Jo looked a bit forlorn, her gaze distant as though she was elsewhere. Still, the moment their eyes met across the room, that old spark returned to her dark eyes and the corners of her mouth curved upward into a delicate smile before she could stop herself.
Grandmamma Clarice noticed first, and before long her gaze followed her granddaughter’s. When she spotted him, joy came to her face, and she instantly waved him over, whispering to her son and daughter-in-law, no doubt informing them of Colin’s presence.
A bit of unease crept up Colin’s spine, and yet, he could not deny that Grandmamma Clarice’s joy warmed his heart. Always had he thought of her as his grandmother as well, and he had missed her dearly these past years.
“My dear boy, you’re finally home,” Grandmamma Clarice beamed as her pale eyes ran over him in frank perusal. “You’ve spent time in the south. Look at you. You’re a far cry from all the pale-faced Englishmen I see day in and out.” A soft chuckle left her lips before she reached up and enfolded him in her arms.
