Catherine waited a beat, taking in her words, before asking, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I believe that you could both lighten each other’s burdens by carrying the two of them together.” Briefly, Julia smiled. “Don’t misunderstand me. I am not a romantic person. I am pragmatic. But when I see two people who are miserable without each other, without anything keeping them apart, I feel as if I should point that out to them.”
“Have you pointed this out to him?” Catherine blurted out without thinking.
Julia grinned. “Of course I have. What kind of big sister, the elder by two minutes, mind you, would I be if I didn’t?” She paused to stop and turn to look Catherine in the eye. “He disagrees with me, however. He thinks there is something keeping the two of you apart.”
“And what is that?”
Lady Julia took her hand and looked at her kindly. “He answers simply that you have not accepted him, that you won’t accept him. Which, if you consider it, is quite an impediment. But I’m a woman and a bit wiser. It’s your insecurities, not your lack of desire, that keeps you from saying yes.” She plucked a white flower from a bush and handed it to stunned Catherine. “I don’t know what it has been like for you. But as I said, I am pragmatic. This is the way I see it: that fire took something from you. It doesn’t matter to Ben, and it shouldn’t matter to anyone who cares for you. But it matters to you. Will you let that fire continue to eat away at your life, even now?”
* * *
16
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* * *
…she had promised herself to close
the box on their past.
* * *
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Duke and Lady Julia
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“That’s easy for you to say,” Catherine whispered as wisps of her blond hair were carried by the wind.
“I know,” Julia admitted as she shrugged. “Isn’t it annoying for someone who has no idea what you’ve been through to give you advice?”
“There isn’t a way for me to answer that in a polite way,” Catherine stuttered slightly. Lady Julia could be intimidating and she knew it, both in her beauty and her confidence.
“Why be polite when we can be honest with one another?” Now, Julia squeezed Catherine’s hand. She had already attached a certain level of sisterly feeling to this woman. Though it didn’t seem like it, Lady Julia knew what it felt like to come from behind. Her whole life, even people who loved her, who were well meaning, made her feel less than her brother. Of course, Julia and Catherine handled these slights much differently. Nonetheless, in Julia’s mind at least, they were bonded, and she wouldn’t give up on the idea that both Catherine and her brother deserved a happily ever after.
“I always thought the day my brother married would be the worst day of my life, that I would hate this woman who would take over the only home I’ve ever known. Isn’t it strange that now that he’s found that woman, I’m going out of my way to help him?” She smiled. “He still loves you. Do you love him?”
“I don’t know if that is any of your business,” Catherine bristled.
“So, you do love him then.” Julia squeezed her eyes shut. She’d known it all along. “Excuse me for a minute. I never get emotional. It’s just… I wish my father could have been here to see you two married.”
“But we aren’t getting married,” Catherine noted, twirling the white flower in her hand.
Julia’s eyes turned sharp. “That’s right. You are currently not marrying Ben because you said no. But you love him. And he loves you. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
It was some time later when everyone was sitting after the luncheon that Julia suggested Benjamin show Catherine the place in the hall where they would be putting their father’s portrait. It was perfect, since it afforded some sense of privacy but was close enough for them to be alone but not improper. Of course, both of them looked aghast at the suggestion, but for politeness sake, they agreed. The Pearsons knew nothing of their previous association. Julia just hoped and prayed that they would both be able to talk openly and honestly and sort out this whole mess.
“You always have to meddle, don’t you?” Duke Sermont murmured through his teeth so only Julia could hear him. Shep, to his friends, had spent summers at Pritchford when he was a boy. Julia was still in a pinafore and it was acceptable to pull her braids. During those summers, he had been treated as family, and his friendship with Ben had continued at Oxford. Back then, his hair had been as golden as corn silk. He had continued to come during the summers as he grew, and his hair darkened to a deep caramel color.
Since it was no longer acceptable to pull on her braids to both annoy her and gain her attention in one swoop, he enjoyed needling her with words. Their history was a complicated one, and no one knew the full of it except the two of them, not even Ben.
“He told me what happened. Can’t you let some things be?” Shep asked, glaring at her. She had only grown more unbearably beautiful as the years had gone by, so looking at her caused an ache in his gut. But no matter her beauty, no matter the attraction between them, he’d never actually wanted to end up with someone like her. In his wife, Rosemary, he’d found calm, and the last few months together may not have been exciting, but they’d brought a level of peace to his life, which was of top priority for him because of the way he was raised.
Julia turned toward him with the appearance of civility but immediately arched an eyebrow at him. There had always been a competitive nature between the two of them and perhaps something else neither of them would ever admit to. Nonetheless, their long history allowed for some casualness. “Are you the only one who is allowed to be happily married? Can I not wish that for my brother? That he be happily married with a family? And I hear you’re about to be a father in a few months as well. Congratulations.”
“Excuse me while I fall over with shock at your felicitations,” Shep replied. They both had smiles plastered to their faces. He wanted to yank on her hair, and she wanted to pinch his side painfully. It had always been this way between the two of them. “You’ve never one for falsities. We both know you have never wished me well.”
Her eyes sparked with anger as she hissed at him, “And with good reason! Do you wish to discuss that reason now?” When he was silent, she took a deep breath and tried a different approach. “Shep.” She hadn’t used his first name in a very long time and definitely not since he married. But there was a bit of exhaustion in her voice now, and he knew that losing her father had to be weighing on her, because she was usually so good at keeping her facade in place. “I’m glad you are happy. I only want my brother to be happy, too. I know you find fault in many parts of my personality, but surely you cannot fault me that desire.”
“I know you want the best for him,” Shep admitted begrudgingly. She was one of the most loyal people he had ever known in the entirety of his life. “We both do. But I am shocked that you are being so kind to his choice of a wife when you have made no effort to know Rosemary.”
She turned away from him but could not help but take his bait. “I do not know why you are shocked. He is my brother. If they are able to overcome their differences, she will be my sister-in-law.” She paused to glare at him. “You are not my brother.”
He grinned, but she knew him too well to believe that he was truly happy. “Have I not been like a brother to you all these years?”
She raised her eyebrow proactively. “Have you?” she asked bitingly. “Have you always been like a brother to me, Shep?”
Julia looked away from him, feeling the back of her neck to make sure that all the pins were still in their places. Somehow, he always managed to make her feel like the little girl trailing behind her brother and his friend. “Do not cause contention when there is none, please. I care about Miss Watson, and of course, I would show an interest in the woman my brother would like t
o marry. As for you… I’ve been nothing but polite to your wife. Has she complained to you about my behavior?”
“Of course not.” He had to lower his voice when all three of the Pearson sisters looked over at them. “She’s too kind to say anything, to even realize that you are not being tremendously welcoming.”
When Julia smiled, there was no joy behind it. She knew she was made up of sharp edges, and she showed every single one to Shep now. There was a pit in her stomach filled with hurt from losing her father, from losing other things, too, but she only knew how to fight back. She could not admit to any weakness.
“The duchess is very sweet, your grace. After all, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Someone who was sweet, who would listen to you without complaint, someone who could nurture both you and your future children?” She turned to look at him, staring into his eyes so he would feel shame. “Not someone who… What was it you said again? Not someone so hard and cold, without a motherly bone in her body? Not someone…” She paused and felt triumph when he squeezed his eyes shut. “Let me make sure I am remembering correctly. Not someone who had no interest in caring for her husband, let alone children?” She shrugged her shoulder as if she did not think of those words on a daily basis. “Did I get it right?”
“Jules,” he murmured lowly, leaning toward her. She had no idea what he intended to do or why he would use such an intimate nickname when he was clearly furious with her.
“I don’t know how I always seem to forget that it is a mistake for us to speak. I am glad you got what you wanted. At least someone did. It certainly was not me.” She stood abruptly and moved to sit nearer to Lady Amelia, Lady Annabelle, and Lady Abigail while Shep continued to sulk in the corner.
She was not wrong. He had written those very words to her once. He had believed them. He told himself, thinking of his sweet wife upstairs resting with their child inside of her, that he had the exact life he had always wanted. He told himself he felt nothing for Julia except disdain and only withstood her presence out of love and friendship for her brother. Shep told himself lots of things. It was just easier to believe it all when she was not so close.
Julia did not spare him another glance. She had already said too much, after she had promised herself to close the box on their past. However, she did send up a prayer that somehow the conversation between her brother and Catherine was going much better compared to the one she just left. God help them all if it had not.
* * *
17
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* * *
There was nothing left for either of them to say…
* * *
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Scorched Earth
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Cat and Ben stood staring at the blank space on the wall where his father’s portrait would be placed in the near future. He had been a great man, a great earl, who had also built a life with a wife he loved and children he doted on. Why had Ben once looked at such a future with derision? At this moment, he would give anything to have that with Cat. But she would not have him, and he could not do anything about it. It was over, completely. He would not allow himself to hope again. Everything was ash.
Ben held his hands clasped behind his back, aware it wasn’t his place to touch her, but knowing that an embrace from her, where he could rest his heavy head on her shoulder, would have the power to make him feel better. But he was intent on not initiating anything with her. She had denied him three times and made her feelings perfectly clear. If she truly wanted to marry him, if she loved him as he loved her, she would have said yes at the ball. To have her so near, looking so sorry, made it very difficult not to embrace her, not to beg her to reconsider. But he would not. He could not. He had already humbled himself and asked her three times, the last time baring every part of his heart to her. Yet, her scars mattered more than his love for her. It was easier to be angry at her. It kept him from reaching for her and asking for her comfort as he grieved his father.
“The painting will go here,” he intoned, his voice empty.
“It is a nice spot,” she said timidly. “You will see it every time you walk to the library.”
Catherine felt as if there was a twister of emotion inside her. She wanted to hear his voice, to even see an attempt at a smile, only because to see him so downtrodden physically hurt her. She considered what Julia had said, and looking at this blank space at the wall, thinking of the fire and her scars, she suddenly felt just how little permanence there was in the world. No one was promised tomorrow, but maybe if God offered one happiness today, it would be wrong not to take it. Oh, if only he would say something… If only he would ask her one last time, she knew what her answer would be! But of course, why would he ask again?
She had done everything within her power to ensure he would never consider marrying her again, let alone ask her. And she did not have the words to explain that he had been right all along. That they were only scars and that she should have taken him at his word from the beginning. She should have believed him when he said they did not matter to him. She should have believed him when he said he loved her, not in spite of the scars, but because he gave no thought to them. There were so many things she wished she could do differently, but she did not see how she could tell him any of this. If she encouraged him again, he would only think she was offering hope when there was none… for the fourth time. Her words were useless to him and rightly so.
The silence was heavy upon them, and he finally broke it. “I apologize for my sister’s impertinence. She sometimes meddles where she should not. Do not worry. We only need to stand here for a few more minutes before we can return without anyone being the wiser. You need not suffer my presence much longer.”
“I…” She began to deny his assumptions, but then stopped. He was grieving, and if he needed to take his emotions out on her, she would bear it. She ducked her head, and he saw her crown of golden curls, shiny and beautiful. His fingers itched to touch them. “If that’s your wish, Lord Wembley.”
He laughed humorlessly. He had never felt so hopeless in his life, first losing Cat and the future they might have had together and then losing the man who had molded him. “I hardly think what I wish matters to you. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear on that account.”
Her blue eyes darted up to meet his. She bit her lip, and he cringed because the gesture had once been so endearing to him. If he was honest, it still was, but he could not think of that. “I know what you must think of me. But what you wish does matter to me. It matters a great deal.” Her words were soft. Once upon a time, they would have been a balm to his pain, but now they only served to remind him that she would not be beside him to bear any future losses.
He doubted very much that she knew how he felt about her. How could anyone describe the feeling in his stomach? He wanted to despise her, but he could not. He wanted to hate her, but he could not do that either. He wanted to stop loving her, but that was impossible. He wanted to find her point of view understandable. But he had to admit that he didn’t know what it was like to grow up with people staring and pointing at him over what they considered disfigurements. If anyone ever pointed him out, it was for praise.
“None of that matters anymore,” he said dismissively, as if she and her words did not matter. “My father is dead. A good man gone. I see now that life is short, and I cannot spend it chasing impossibilities.”
He didn’t see the way her lips trembled. He had called her brave once, but she was nothing more than a coward now and when she rejected him out of her own vanity. “Oh.” She took a deep breath. He did not love her any longer. That must be it. He was resigned to the fact that they would not be together. It was truly over. “Whatever has happened between us… I mean to say… No matter what, I am so very sorry about your father. He was a very good man.”
“So you said in your letter,” he intoned without glancing at her again.
Did she have to look so beautiful in a dove-gray dress, her cheeks rosy, eyes so big and blue? Her beauty was the type that could make a man ache by simply being in the presence of it. Yet, she would not have him. She would have no one. Because she could not see herself as he saw her.
“I meant it. I meant the whole thing,” she admitted in a serious tone. Could he hear the feeling in her voice? Ask me again, she begged silently. Please renew your affection for me. I have been so wrong! But she could say none of this aloud.
“It’s hard to remember specifics,” he replied bitingly, feeling bitter. “We received many letters.” He knew her rejection made him bitter, even as he tried to be gracious in understanding that he did not know what it had been to grow up as she did. Her scars did not matter to him, but they were not his scars. They were hers, and she had been the one to bear them all these years. He was certain some people had been awful to her. But he was not one of them. Oh, if only she would let him he could help her to heal from all the heartache she had experienced in this life.
“It’s hard to remember what anyone wrote,” he snapped unkindly, because to be kind to her would mean he might fall to his knees and beg and he could not do that, not to himself or to her.
But to his dismay, she didn’t even have the gall to be insulted or fight back. She seemed to recognize that he was hurting and only continued to speak with compassion. “I’m sure you did. He inspired feelings in a great many people and will be missed. Of course, you and your sister and your mother will miss him more than anyone else.”
Regency Romance: The Earl’s Unforgettable Flame (CLEAN Historical Romance) (Fire and Smoke) Page 12
