He raised his brows. "I take that to mean you didn't love him."
She walked over to a table and toyed with the flowers in a Chinese vase. "Our marriage was arranged by our families. Such things are done all the time."
"And Lord Arndale?" he asked softly. "Where does he fit in?"
She whirled on him and glared. "Malcolm is Harry's brother. That's all he is and all he ever will be to me."
"So vehement," he noted. "Are you in love with him?"
"What is this obsession you have with whom I love?" she cried. "You certainly do not love me, Garrett. I believe you are incapable of it."
He scowled. "Certainly I am capable of it."
"Of course." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "That is why you have spent your life running away from your emotional responsibilities."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I am talking about you." She put her hands on her hips and stared him right in the eye. "Being an outsider in this family, I observe much that probably escapes you. You, sir, are afraid of emotional entanglements."
"The hell I am!"
She didn't even flinch at his use of language. "I know that you love your sister."
"Of course I do. I would do anything for her."
Lucinda nodded. "Anything but be there for her."
His face grew thunderous. "I have always taken care of her and of my mother. Always."
"Financially, yes. But you've spent the better part of Meg's life away at sea. You didn't have to do that, Garrett. You own the company. You could have run it from Boston, but instead you chose to separate yourself from your family. You loved them, you sent them money. But they wanted you there with them, and you couldn't do that."
"Perhaps I should have," he snapped. "But I'm here now, right? I came all the way to goddamned England and stayed here because of Meg."
"A step in the right direction," Lucinda agreed. "But while here, you have done your best to maintain your antagonism toward your grandfather."
"You know what he did," Garrett snarled. "He destroyed my family."
"He was trying to protect your family," Lucinda corrected. "In doing so, he made a huge mistake, one that cost him as much as it cost you. Didn't it ever occur to you that he was just as hurt as you were when your father died? Your father was his son. How do you think that made him feel, to know his actions had precipitated the death of his child?"
"I don't think the old bastard has a heart."
She laughed. "The same could be said for you. You're both afraid of love, both afraid to be hurt again."
"Trying to make me fall in love with you, Lucinda?" he challenged.
"I have practical reasons for what I do, reasons that have nothing to do with how I feel about you, Garrett. Your reasons stem from fear."
"I'm not afraid of anything," he scoffed.
"You're afraid to forgive your grandfather."
"I should have grown up here," he answered fiercely. "I should have known the life my father knew." He walked to the window, looked out onto the streets of London. "He used to talk about it. How green England was, how much he loved riding across the land his ancestors had owned. But my grandfather denied me the life I might have had."
"He's offering it to you now."
"But I like America, too," he said, turning to face her again. "People are different there. Everyone is equal. I miss it."
"It's your home. Of course you miss it. And this is my home. I love England as much as you love America."
"I suppose you must," he said slowly.
"And I love my family as much as you do," she continued. "Though they are all dead, there is a certain tradition that must be carried on. I am the last Northcott living. I must do my duty by my family name and make a respectable marriage so that I can continue to move about in society. Not engage in a scandalous affair that might damage my reputation and shame my family name."
"No one has to know," he said, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
"I would know," she said.
"Damn it, Lucinda," he said, but there was no heat in his words. "I can't get you out of my mind. I want you in my arms, and the thought of you with this Sir James fellow makes me crazy."
"I'm sorry about that," she said. "But I have reasons for what I'm doing."
"Tell me," he demanded.
She shook her head. "I do not answer to you, Garrett."
"Then how do you expect me to understand?" he asked fiercely. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Lucinda? Do you have to get married?"
She sighed and headed for the door with determined strides. "I am done discussing this, Garrett."
"What about children, Lucinda?"
She stopped, her hand frozen in mid-air where she reached for the doorknob. "What?"
"What about children?" he repeated. "Don't you want children some day? Sir James seems a little too old to be a father."
She whirled to face him, hands clenched at her sides. "Haven't you heard, Captain? Rumor has it that I cannot have children, so you need not concern yourself with such things." To her horror, her voice broke on the last words.
"Back to ‘captain' again, are we?" he muttered. Then he looked closely at her, and she pressed her lips together, refusing to meet his eyes. "So you cannot have children?"
She shrugged. "That is what they say."
"That's not what I asked you." He stepped closer, but she sidled away from him. "Lucinda, tell me what's wrong. Are you in some sort of trouble?"
"Don't concern yourself with me, Garrett." She looked at him then and gave him a brittle smile. "You just worry about your ships and your sister. I can take care of myself."
"Can you?" he challenged softly.
Turning her back on him, she jerked open the door. "I have no choice."
She exited the room, but did not manage to close the door before he responded.
"There is always a choice, Lucinda."
Chapter 15
There is always a choice, Lucinda. The words haunted her all day. Garrett didn't know what he was talking about, she thought fiercely as the maid buttoned her favorite brown dress for a drive in the park with Sir James. Garrett knew nothing about her problems, nothing about how hard it was to hang on to something intangible, like her fam-ily's reputation, in the face of something as unforgiving as English society.
He knew nothing about Malcolm's obsessive pursuit, nothing about the financial problems that haunted her every day, nothing about her fragile arrangement with the duke that was all that might save her.
Garrett Lynch was a man in control of his own life. He owned his own business and did what he chose. Unlike a woman, he did not have to sell
himself into marriage merely to survive.
Her own bitterness surprised her.
She had been raised an English lady and knew her duty. So why was she now angry about what she must do to survive? Why was she even thinking about how wonderful it would be to marry for love and not survival?
Sir James was a good man. He was older than she was, yes. A good twenty-five years older, in fact. But he was a kind man, and she trusted him. He didn't seem bothered by the rumors Malcolm had started, and she knew he was well off financially. By some miracle he had returned to London in search of a wife just as she had been seeking someone exactly like him for a husband. A month ago she would have thanked God for such divine intervention.
A month ago, she had not been yearning for Garrett.
She sighed, then left the room to go receive Sir James.
* * *
Garrett stepped into the drawing room and immediately wished he hadn't.
"Garrett, dear boy!" Lady Agatha greeted him. "Do come and meet Sir James."
The last thing Garrett had expected when he had come looking for Meg was to be confronted with Lucinda's suitor. The older man sat in an armchair across from the settee where Lady Agatha and Meg rested. He was dressed simply yet elegantly in plain, well-made clothing that Garrett himself migh
t have selected. Sir James rose as Lady Agatha made the introductions.
"Garrett, may I present Sir James Whigby? Sir James, this is my grand-nephew, Garrett, Lord Kelton. Sir James has come to take Mrs. Devering for a ride around the park," Lady Agatha added with a beaming smile.
"Pleasure," Sir James said with a respectful nod.
"Sir James." Garrett nodded back, struggling to remember why it would be a bad idea to challenge the fellow. He had to respect Lucinda's choices, had to allow her to live her life without his interference. It was what he would expect of anyone else, and so he was trying his best to accord her this courtesy.
Unfortunately, his instincts urged him to warn the other man away from the woman he had claimed for himself, no matter how primal that seemed.
Lucinda chose that moment to enter the room. She stopped just inside the doorway as she saw Garrett standing there, and their gazes met and held for a long, charged moment.
She looked beautiful in a walking dress of a soft brown, shades darker than her hair. The color made her complexion look creamy and flawless, and her doe-like eyes look fathomless. Her mouth appeared soft and pink and lush, an invitation to any man breathing.
Don't go, he thought.
Her expression softened, and her dark eyes filled with a tenderness that made his heart ache. She cared for him. It was there in every inch of her posture, in the yearning in her eyes, in the curve of her smile.
How could he not have known she had feelings for him? Why hadn't he realized that?
He had been a fool. Lucinda was not a woman who gave herself lightly, and he felt ashamed of himself for trying to treat her that way. She deserved as much respect from him as Meg or any other woman of his acquaintance. Somehow his lust for her had eradicated his good manners, and there was no excuse for it.
So when Sir James rose from his chair and approached her, Garrett stepped aside. When the older man took her hand and brushed a kiss to the back of it, Garrett reined in his primitive instincts and did not jerk Lucinda away from Sir James as he longed to.
She looked back at him once, as Sir James opened the door to the drawing room and ushered her out. He saw gratitude in her eyes, and a longing that seemed to echo back from within himself.
Good Lord, he realized with shock. He had feelings for Lucinda! Feelings that had nothing to do with lust. Feelings that felt uncomfortable and awkward, and yet somehow so right.
Yet he could only stand there, shaken, as she swept out of the room on the arm of another man.
* * *
Lucinda tried not to think about the brief flare of emotion that she had seen in Garrett's eyes as Sir James handed her into the curricle. Sir James was the man she should be thinking about, and she gave him a brilliant smile as he climbed into the seat beside her.
To her surprise, he didn't smile back.
"Are you certain this is what you want, Lucinda?" he asked quietly.
"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, startled.
Sir James looked back at the house, his expression somber. "I did not miss the look between you and the duke's grandson, Lucinda. What is he to you?"
"He is...I mean..."
"He's watching you from the window."
Lucinda whipped her head around and saw that Garrett was indeed watching her from the window of the drawing room. Their gazes met for an instant; then he disappeared from the window.
She let out a little sound of distress. Sir James touched her hand, and she turned to look at him.
He touched her cheek gently. "Forgive me, Lucinda. I didn't mean to sound harsh. I would just like to know if I should consider Lord Kelton as a competitor for your hand."
She twisted her lips bitterly. "Not at all, Sir James."
"Like that, is it?" Sir James took up the reins and set his matched pair of grays trotting toward Hyde Park. "Would you care to talk about it?"
She hesitated.
"Lucinda, I have known you since you were a child," he reminded her. "Much has happened to you since your father's death, and I would like to think that you can confide in me. I assure you, I shall not think less of you for it."
The sincere compassion in his voice brought tears to her eyes, and she fought to control herself. How she longed to have someone to confide in! But she did not dare talk to him about Garrett, especially since Sir James was a suitor.
But, oh, how she wanted to.
At her continued silence, Sir James let out a sigh. "All right, if you feel you can't tell me outright, let me tell you what I have surmised. I can see that there is something between you and Lord Kelton. Obviously marriage is not involved here, because you said he does not pursue your hand. And it seems to me that you want to marry again."
"Yes, I do," she replied, facing him at last. He continued to keep his eyes on the road, but she could tell she had his full attention.
She took a steadying breath before continuing. She had to tell him the truth, for what if Garrett succeeded in taking his sister back to Boston before Meg could contract an advantageous marriage? Lucinda's bargain with the duke had not taken Garrett's stubbornness into account. "I must be honest with you, Sir James, because our families have been friends for so long. My late husband left behind some substantial debts."
"Ah," Sir James said, comprehension spreading across his features. "And I take it your current finances will not cover the amount?"
"That is correct."
"So you wish to marry again for financial security."
"That is part of it."
He glanced at her. "And I take it young Lord Kelton has no desire for marriage, though he does seem to have some desire for you."
She blushed. "Something like that."
"As I suspected." He paused. "I am not going to ask for details. You are from a good family, Lucinda, and whatever is between you and the marquess is your business. However, should we marry, I would not tolerate infidelity. Perhaps that is old-fashioned, but it is how I feel."
Mortified, Lucinda looked down at her hands.
"I am not like that, Sir James. Should we marry, I would be a faithful wife."
"I'm glad to hear it." He turned the horses into Hyde Park. "Do you love him, Lucinda?"
"No!" she said, appalled by the thought.
After a moment of silence, he said, "Do you think you could come to love me?"
"I could try," she said softly.
"That is all a man can ask." He nodded at a society matron in a passing carriage. "We will not speak of this again."
* * *
Garrett went back to the window, but the curricle had already left, carrying Lucinda away with it.
He clenched his hands into fists as he stared blindly at the street below. Confusion churned in his gut, stirring up unfamiliar emotions. How could he have let her leave with Sir James?
How could he have stopped her?
He flexed his hands helplessly, desperate to grab onto something of his own, something real. He had lost everything now. His parents were gone, and with every day that passed, Meg grew more and more attached to England. She might want to stay permanently, and he loved her too much to deny her anything, as much as he wanted her to come back home with him.
And he had lost Lucinda.
That was the most crushing of all, because it was his own fault. He had held her in his arms, had claimed her so briefly, yet he had lost her because of his own pigheadedness. Once she realized that he could not offer her what she needed, she had looked to another man.
And why shouldn't she? Scowling, he turned from the window. All she wanted was marriage. Yes, she was secretive about her reasons, but he had to respect her for sticking to her goals and not settling for less than she deserved. Lucinda was a proud woman from a good family, and she was not made to be a man's plaything.
So why didn't he just marry her?
The jolt of apprehension that he expected never came. The idea of Lucinda as his wife seemed comforting rather than alarming, and having her in his bed every night prom
ised hot encounters even on the coldest winter nights. The notion that she would be at his side to talk to and to hold for the rest of his life made him realize what he had been missing all these years. He had been a damned fool to wait so long.
What had he been afraid of? Losing her? Hell, he'd never had her! By not treating her honorably, he had all but shoved her into Sir James's arms.
Was there any chance that she might come back to him if he wooed her as a suitor should? They could marry here in England, and then he would take her back to Boston...
The thought stopped him cold. Lucinda had no desire to leave England. Everything she had done, she had done so that she could continue to live in high society. How could he possibly convince her to leave England? What if she refused to marry him?
"Damn it!" he muttered, scowling at a painting of a bowl of fruit that hung on the wall.
"Garrett, why are you talking to that painting?" Meg asked.
He had forgotten that he was not alone in the room. He turned to face Meg and Lady Agatha, who watched him with puzzled expressions, but he was saved from answering when the duke came in.
"We have visitors," Erasmus said, just as the butler announced the names of those visitors.
"The Countess of Farvendale and Lady Penelope Albright!"
"Sophia!" Lady Agatha cried with delight as the countess, clad in brilliant green from top to toe, swept into the drawing room. Lady Penelope, clad in a soft shade of blushing pink, followed at a more sedate pace. As the older women embraced, she sent Garrett a shy smile.
Meg joined the fray, and as Garrett watched all the women greet one another, he wondered how he could discreetly escape.
Somehow, his plan of greeting the ladies and slipping from the room got waylaid, and he found himself seated beside Lady Penelope on the settee, with Meg on the other side, and across from the countess and his great-aunt. And if that wasn't enough of a trap, the duke had also settled down in an armchair to socialize.
"Tell me about America," Lady Penelope said to Garrett, her blue eyes wide. "Is it as wild as I have heard?"
"We're from Boston," Meg answered with visible patience. Obviously, it was not the first time she'd been asked such a thing. "It's quite a large city and very civilized."
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