As he came toward Julian with his arms spread wide, a smile creased his rosy face. “My boy.” Folding Julian into his firm embrace, he clapped him soundly on the back. The Brennans of Pittsburgh were a large, energetic clan, but its power and strength had always flowed directly from this man at the head. The business world bowed before his brilliance and trembled before his ironclad will, but Julian had only ever known him to be a generous and loving grandfather.
He leaned back, beaming as he held Julian at arms’ length. “By God, it’s good to see you, son. It’s been too long.”
“Indeed it has.”
“Come in, come in,” Horace barked. “The ladies are keeping you trapped out here on the porch when I’m sure what you could really use is a decent drink. Isaac,” he said to one of the children. “You’re the oldest. Take charge of the younger children, son. Get them into the house so your cousin can catch his breath.”
The boy, Isaac, immediately snapped to attention, herding the rest of the children away from Julian and back into the house. Phoebe set her squirming little daughter down so she could race after her older cousins.
“She’s just like you, running wild with the boys,” Julian said to her.
Phoebe smiled fondly at her retreating daughter. “Indeed, although my days of running with the boys are over. Now I just ride herd on them. Come in, come in. The men are all still at the offices, but Minnie, Abbie and Josie are inside and they’re just desperate to see you again.
Julian allowed himself to be ushered through the doors of the Abbey, past the marble-floored front hall, and into the sprawling family parlor. The house might be imposing and severe on the outside, but inside, it was all warmth and barely contained chaos. Several conversations were taking place in the parlor simultaneously, as the children laughed and chased each other around the furniture and the adults. It was easy to get lost in it, to sink into the warm embrace of his American family and let it temporarily wash away his misery.
His three youngest cousins, Minerva, Abigail and Josephine, were still busily filling him in on all the latest Pittsburgh gossip when the men of the family began to filter back to the Abbey. His mother’s brothers greeted him warmly, asking a few gently pointed questions about his mother’s health and happiness. He should have insisted she come with him for this trip. She hadn’t been home in so long. The Brennans could do her as much good as it would him. But he’d been such a wreck as he’d fled London, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. About anything. Hopefully his time in Pittsburgh would help. Something had to.
* * *
Dinner was a predictably crowded and loud affair, although not the endless parade of courses a formal English meal might have been. Afterward, Julian enjoyed a brandy in the library with his grandfather, his uncles, his male cousins and the husbands of the female ones. They peppered him with so many questions about European politics, he almost went a full five minutes without thinking of Grace. Almost.
They joined the ladies in the parlor after dinner, although without the added chaos of the children this time. Julian took a seat next to Phoebe, looking forward to spending the evening catching up.
“So, Julian,” Phoebe began. “What has you washing up in Pittsburgh looking like you’ve been turned inside out? You might as well come out with it and tell me. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
“I just wanted to see you all.”
Phoebe gave him a skeptical look. “The truth, please.”
“It is the truth. I’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you. Now, the whole truth. Out with it, Jules.”
No one had ever called him “Jules” outside of Phoebe. No one in London would dare. It nearly made his heart crack in two. He sighed, an ocean of pain and regret washing out of his lungs with the air. “I’m afraid I’ve broken my heart.”
“Who is she?” Phoebe snapped, a murderous gleam in her eyes. “I’ll break her to bits with my own two hands for hurting you.”
“No, it wasn’t her fault. I did it to myself.”
Phoebe cocked her head in question. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story. But I can’t undo it, and it’s not getting any better, so I thought it might be best for everyone involved if I took myself away for a while.”
“Everyone involved...” Phoebe said slowly. “I take it she’s not free?”
Julian hesitated, then shook his head. “She’s about to marry my best friend, Rupert, actually.”
Phoebe winced. “You fell in love with your best friend’s fiancée? That’s uncommonly stupid for someone as smart as you, Jules.”
“Thank you, Phoebe,” he said acerbically. “That makes me feel much better. And I met her before she became his fiancée.”
“If you were there first, how is she marrying him?”
“Because I didn’t realize I loved her until it was too late. I was trying to prevent their engagement, and I fell for her myself.”
Phoebe clucked her tongue. “Quite a siren, this girl.”
Julian smiled, in spite of his pain, and shook his head. “She’s not. Not at all. She’s intelligent and passionate and noble—”
“And you’re going to let her make the biggest mistake of her life by marrying someone else?”
“You might be shocked to hear it, but I did my damnedest to get her to run away with me. But she’s far too honorable, and with a little time to think about it, I can see she’s right.”
“Right about what? Spending your lives apart?”
“We’d hurt everyone we know. I’d humiliate Rupert, she’d be soundly condemned, the scandal would be unbearable. And you well know how my life has already been shaped by scandal. I couldn’t possibly make Mother face that again.”
“Yes, I know. You and poor Aunt Ada. Can I ask, if this girl is such a paragon, why were you trying to keep her away from your best friend?”
“I didn’t think she was his equal.”
Phoebe’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, so you’ve fallen in love with a chorus girl. No, wait...an opera singer. This is good.”
“No, nothing like that. She comes from a rather old title, actually. It’s only she has no family and no money.”
Phoebe blinked. “And?”
“The advantage in the match was all Rupert’s. She brings nothing with her. She’s utterly dependent on him.”
“If they don’t mind, why would you?”
“I worried the disparity in their positions would lead to resentment over time, just as it did with my mother and father.”
Without warning, Phoebe reached out and smacked the back of his head.
“What the bloody hell was that for?”
“Your mother and father might be proof of one possible outcome of such a match, but there are plenty of examples of other outcomes right here in your own family. Happy examples. Good Lord, you’d have turned yourself inside out if you’d been here when John was courting me. Or I should say, when I was pursuing John. I was rather relentless about it.”
“John? I thought you met him when he came to work under Grandfather.”
“I did. But he was only a clerk at first.”
“A clerk? How did you ever cross paths with him to begin with?” He’d had no idea John’s origins were so humble. By the time he’d met him at Phoebe’s wedding, he was a junior executive. He’d assumed John had come into the company in that position.
“Do you remember the company picnic Grandfather hosts for the employees’ families every summer out by the lake? Yes, well, I caught sight of him there. I’d never seen a man so handsome in my life. I managed to cross paths with him during the spoon race and we spent all afternoon chatting. Then he found out who I was and ran for the hills.”
“It reflects well on him. You knew he wasn’t a fortune hunter.”
Phoebe
huffed in annoyance. “Yes, but he was too intimidated to come near me again. I swear, I stalked the man from one end of the Brennan Steel offices to the other. Eventually Grandfather promoted him just so he could feel comfortable returning my interest. Of course, John’s more than proved himself at work since then.”
“Phoebe, I had no idea.”
“Obviously. But you see? He wasn’t at all on my level socially or financially, but what did that matter? I knew I would marry him the moment we met. I just had to engineer things so it could happen. And now we’re quite ridiculously happy together. All our differences don’t matter nearly as much as all the things we share.”
“And it doesn’t bother you? Or him?”
“I married John, the man, not John, the fortune. So why do you love this woman, Jules? For what she is, or who she is?”
“For herself, of course.”
“Then what she is and what she has doesn’t matter at all. Does it?”
Julian found he couldn’t reply. His chest ached too much with his lost chance at happiness. Phoebe and John had been married for seven years, and were still every bit as happy together as they’d been at the outset. Their love had clearly been more than strong enough to overcome any difficulties their differences presented. Surely his love for Grace would have been enough, if only he’d been honest with himself from the start. Instead, bound up in his own misguided determination to do the right thing, he’d lied to himself about his feelings for her, over and over, until it was too late.
“Poor Jules. Being perfect all your life has really done you in.”
“Is that what you think I’ve done?”
“Since we were children. You’ve been the most moral, the most honest, person I know. So ruthlessly determined never to take a wrong step.”
“You know why.”
“I do know why. I’m only saying it’s no wonder, now you’ve taken a step out of line, you’d do it spectacularly.”
“It does feel as if my life has exploded.”
“Love does that to you.” Phoebe reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Quite a mess you’ve made for yourself.”
“Indeed,” he finally managed. “I’ve been a fool and now I’m paying for it as she marries my best friend.”
“No matter how stupid you’ve been in matters of the heart, we still love you, you know.”
“I do.” He managed a smile for her.
“It’s just like the old days,” Phoebe’s younger brother, Oliver, called across the room. “Phoebe and Julian with their heads together, scheming.”
“We are scheming, but for good, not evil this time,” Phoebe said. “I’ve just been convincing Julian he ought to invite Aunt Ada to come stay with us in Newport for the summer.”
Julian raised one eyebrow at Phoebe but didn’t contradict her, especially not when he saw the delight in the faces of Aunt Lucinda and Aunt Lavinia.
“What a marvelous idea!” Lucinda cried. “She’d be such a welcome addition to the family party this summer.”
“She simply must come,” Aunt Lavinia chimed in. “Oh, do convince her, Julian.”
It might do his mother good, he thought, to come spend time with her family again. The children and the ladies of the family would spend the whole of the summer at the family cottage in Newport, joined by Phoebe’s sister, Charlotte, who lived in New York with her family. The gentlemen would join them for the occasional week here and there, as their schedules allowed. The more Julian thought about it, the better he liked the idea. His mother was long overdue for a visit. It was time they both began moving on from the pain of the past.
Chapter Seventeen
The stationer had sent round a selection of invitation samples for Grace to examine, but they’d been lying untouched in her lap for twenty minutes. She held one in her hand, but she couldn’t say which and she had absolutely no opinion about it. She wished Gen were here. As the plans for the wedding progressed, it was Gen who guided her through the myriad details, nudging her towards decisions when Grace was utterly incapable of making up her mind.
Everything was proceeding just as it should. The wedding was gradually coming together. Rupert visited every day, as kind and attentive as he’d always been. Some days they rode together, on others they discussed plans for the wedding, or their future life. Grace did it all with a sunny smile and enthusiasm she didn’t feel in the least.
She would get through this. She had to. It had only been two weeks since Julian left. In time, this wound would heal. Until then, she would smile and nod and stumble through her days until she could breathe without reminding herself to, until she could think on something without her thoughts turning back to Julian within minutes. Rupert was a good man, and he cared for her. He was going to provide her with a fine, secure life. She would spend the rest of her days making sure he never had cause to regret his choice. It was the least she could do.
“Miss Grace?”
Her head snapped up at Mrs. Winters’s gentle voice. “The mail’s come. There’s a letter for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Winters.” Grace took the letter and Mrs. Winters withdrew. It was probably from Amelia, full of stories of her travels to exotic ports-of-call with her husband, Nate. But the return address wasn’t from Bombay or Singapore or Buenos Aires. It was from New York.
Her hands began to shake and her breathing grew shallow. He hadn’t told her which city in America he was traveling to, but she knew without a doubt the letter was from Julian. An ache unfurled through her chest, so acute her eyes began to water.
Her trembling fingers tore the envelope open and unfolded the single sheet of heavy writing paper inside.
May 12, 1897
Dear G,
At our last meeting, you said I wasn’t thinking clearly. Now that I’ve been away for some time, I find you were right. I was indeed pursuing a course of action which would have brought misery down on everyone I care for and, in time, myself as well. I’m grateful to you for having the clarity to refuse me, when I had no such clarity myself. I apologize for everything that passed between us. I never wanted to do you any harm. I wish you happiness in your future life.
Sincerely,
J
Grace read it, and then read it again. In his time away, he seemed to have gotten past the wild infatuation binding him to her. She’d predicted he’d regret what happened, and here it was, his regret in black and white.
Thank heaven she’d held fast and refused him. If she’d done what she so desperately wanted to do—taken his hand and run away—he’d be looking at her over the breakfast table, having these regrets. As it was, it was a simple matter of a letter, putting the past behind them and forgetting what had occurred. Even the way he’d signed it, with just his first initial, was a disavowal that Julian St. John, the Earl of Knighton, could have ever succumbed to such a moral failing.
Wanting you makes me hate myself.
She would never forget the agony in his voice as he’d uttered those words, the pain in his eyes. He’d hated his need, hated his own weakness. In time, his hatred would have turned on her. This was all for the best, even though it felt anything but.
Before she knew what she was doing, she’d brought the letter to her lips, pressing a kiss to the brief signature. When would this terrible loss begin to ease? Would she long for Julian like this for the rest of her life, clinging to any remnant of him she could get?
Even now, she was surrounded by wedding invitations with Rupert’s name on them and clutching Julian’s letter to her chest. She flung the letter into the fire, watching the flames lick up around his words. No doubt he’d be glad she burned it. It wouldn’t do to have any unpleasant reminders of his ill-guided infatuation.
Her body was doing all the right things, but her heart was still betraying Rupert at every turn. She’d already done so
much wrong, and she still couldn’t banish Julian from her mind. She’d made her choice, the right one. She couldn’t undermine that choice with these endless regrets.
In two months, she was marrying Rupert. Julian was a part of her past she had to forget, as he’d already started doing. She leapt to her feet and hurried to the front hall, calling for her jacket and hat. Rupert would be her husband, and he deserved to be the only person in her mind. She needed to see his friendly face, to talk about something real—the house, their new life together—something. She needed to remind herself he was the man she’d be spending the rest of her days with.
Mrs. Winters returned with her things. “Do you require a carriage, Miss?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Winters. I’ll walk.”
Tugging her gloves into place, she left Gen’s townhouse and headed to the beautiful new home in Belgravia which would soon be hers. Gen probably should accompany her, but Gen wasn’t at home and Grace needed Rupert’s reassurance now. Besides, she was nearly his wife. How wrong could it be to call on him alone in broad daylight?
“Good day, Miss Godwyn,” Connors, the new butler, said with all the deference due to the woman who was soon to be mistress of the house.
“Hello, Connors. Is Mr. Humphrey at home?”
“He is, ma’am. I believe he and Lady Honor are in the ballroom, discussing plans for the garden.”
“Ah, of course they are. Thank you. I’ll find my way to them.”
No sooner had Honor declared the house to be done than she turned her attention to Rupert’s overgrown and neglected back garden. Around the wedding plans, they’d been hard at work discussing flower beds and gravel paths and fountains. Honor was determined the work be somewhat completed before the wedding, so Grace could enjoy her garden before the summer was out. It was to be her wedding gift to the new couple.
The ballroom ran the length of the back of the ground floor of the house. A wall of French doors opened onto a raised terrace, and wide stone steps led down to the garden. The French doors were all open, letting bright afternoon sunlight flood the ballroom. A warm breeze stirred the thin white curtains on the doors. They billowed around Rupert and Honor, where they stood backlit by the sun.
A Reluctant Betrothal (The Grantham Girls) Page 19
