by Renee Ryan
There was no room in his life for Elizabeth. His burdens were already too heavy.
She isn’t a burden. She’s the one person who soothes away your cares and eases the load you bear. Just being in her presence makes you calm, and a happy future seems possible.
That was exactly the kind of thinking that would lead to her ruin. Luke would only fail Elizabeth, eventually, as he’d failed all the others he loved. Maintaining his distance was crucial. Detachment was the best way to establish the parameters of their relationship.
Who was he fooling? Elizabeth would trample over any boundaries he tried to set. She was as stubborn as he was. The thought made him unreasonably cheerful.
“Mr. Griffin?” His assistant’s usually calm countenance appeared a bit ragged at the edges. “Shall I send her away?”
“No. Bring her in. But give me five minutes before you do.” He needed to fortify himself, assemble some armor before facing Elizabeth.
“Very good, sir.”
The clerk left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Running his hands through his hair, Luke made his way around his desk, the wide surface filled with automobile periodicals and engineering books.
At the window, he took a long pull of air, released it slowly, deliberately. Luke considered himself a man of control, except when it came to Elizabeth. She always managed to slip past his defenses. He was already halfway to giving in to whatever she asked of him, and she hadn’t even entered the room yet.
Exactly five minutes after Mr. Southerland left the room, he reentered, Elizabeth one step behind.
Luke schooled his features into a blank expression. “Elizabeth, please, come in.”
“Thank you.”
His well-honed composure evaporated the moment he caught sight of her face. Barely concealed panic played across her features. Forcing his alarm to subside, he adopted a casual pose and sat on the edge of his desk and asked, “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I’ve come with some distressing news.”
His heart pounded against his ribs, and his breath hitched in his lungs. She’s in trouble.
That list. That blasted list of hers. He should have destroyed it when he’d had the chance.
Now it was too late. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Tell me what’s happened.”
Hesitating, she glanced at Franklin. The gesture reminded Luke they had an audience. He seemed to do that a lot in her company, his focus so much on her that he forgot there were other people around.
He dismissed his clerk. “Close the door on your way out.”
“As you wish.”
While the other man left the room, Luke kept his gaze on Elizabeth. Her shoulders were unnaturally stiff. She looked vulnerable, distraught. Luke wanted to go to her, to soothe away her anxiety. He wanted to tease a laugh out of her like he had when they were children. Yet he sensed it wouldn’t help and possibly would only make matters worse.
“Elizabeth,” he said softly, tenderly. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she lifted her head and started walking again, crossing the expanse of hardwood flooring between them with short, anxious steps. When she was within two feet of him, she stopped. Her floral scent hit him like a rough blow to the heart.
Luke tried to think brotherly thoughts. But Elizabeth’s pleasing smell, along with the memory of their kisses, made his efforts fruitless.
He looked into her face. His heart lurched, and a sense of urgency surged. Elizabeth was upset, though she hid her reaction behind a benign smile.
Affecting a bland expression of his own, he went to her, knuckled an errant curl out of her eyes. “Tell me what’s brought you to me.”
She drew in a shaky breath, blinked several times. For a shocking moment, Luke thought she was going to cry. He took her hands in his. “You can tell me anything, Elizabeth. I won’t judge you. Whatever it is you’ve done, I’ll find a way to fix the damage.”
He would go to whatever lengths necessary to erase that terrible look of pain in her eyes. But what if he couldn’t? What if she’d gone too far?
“That’s oddly sweet, and yet a bit insulting.” She let out an unladylike snort. “Have no fear, Luke, my reputation is firmly intact.”
“Then why are you so upset?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew. “Your mother. She’s come home.”
“No, it’s nothing to do with me.”
“Then why—”
“I ran into an old friend of yours this afternoon.” Misery fell across her face. “A woman you haven’t seen in many years.”
Luke recognized the curling in his gut as dread. He quelled the sensation and forced himself to ask, “Does this woman have a name?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Sophie Cappelletti.”
Though not the name he was expecting—he’d thought Elizabeth had met Abby—the dread he’d felt earlier remained. “You spoke with her?”
“We had a long visit.”
He released her hands, shoved his own in his pockets. “She is . . . well?”
“Very well. She has become a beautiful woman.” Elizabeth walked slowly to the window, looked out. Twisting the handle of her cloth purse in agitation, she pivoted back around. “She has the most amazing eyes.”
He knew where this was going, considered stopping her, and yet let her continue, anyway.
“They’re an unusual color, not quite brown, but a lovely golden shade.” She drew alongside him. “I’ve only seen eyes that color on three other people.”
“Me, Penelope, and our father.”
“Yes.”
Legs shakier than he’d like, Luke turned away, tugged at his lapels. One thought dominated the twisting in his chest. Elizabeth knew. She knew Sophie was his half sister.
“Does Sophie know the truth?” he asked.
“That’s why I’m here. To warn you.”
Guilt spiraled in him for not trying harder to reach out to his half sister. What Sophie must be suffering, the fear, the confusion, the need for answers. Luke had grappled with all three himself, not well, and certainly not with dignity, and he wasn’t even the most affected party.
Elizabeth came around to him, touched his arm. “How long have you known she is your sister?”
“I’ve suspected for years but have never received actual confirmation. Until now.”
“Oh.”
Seconds ticked by before Elizabeth removed her hand from his arm. She regarded him with patient, solemn eyes, the look giving Luke the impression her next words would be far worse than all the others before. “I believe Sophie has come to confront your father.”
This was Luke’s greatest fear. Yet he couldn’t fault Sophie’s desire to stand before Warren Griffin and demand answers. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how ugly. She deserved to be acknowledged.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, a dozen thoughts colliding into one another in his head. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels, rolled forward again.
“Will you try to stop her?”
“She is my sister.” Which didn’t answer the question. “I won’t deny her, or turn my back on her, if that’s what you mean. She is family. She deserves to take her place among us. But if she confronts my father in a public manner . . .”
“Your family will be ruined.”
Lips twisted at a wry angle, he nodded. “I don’t care about the repercussions to me. Or to my father.” Warren Griffin had brought this on himself. “But I do care what this will do to my mother. And to Penelope. I fear she will suffer the most.”
“Oh, Luke.” Eyes full of agony rolled up to his. “You don’t think Mr. Burrows will break off the engagement if the truth comes out before the wedding, do you?”
Luke laughed harshly, the sound ragged in the silence that had fallen over the room. “That’s exactly what I suspect the venerable, uptight Simon Burrows will do.”
“He could surprise us.”
&
nbsp; “He could.” Luke didn’t hold out much hope for that. He’d done his research, turned over every rock. Simon was a man of honor, without a blemish in his past. “But I doubt it.”
“We must warn Penelope.”
“Yes.” And his mother—Luke must alert his mother. He must also distance himself from Elizabeth, immediately. Any dishonor that touched him could not be allowed to rub off on her.
He’d been waiting for this day for years, preparing for the disgrace that would come when Warren’s secret came to light. He had expected to feel any number of emotions, when in truth, he felt nothing, nothing but an empty inner calm that shouldn’t exist.
The wait was over.
“Luke?” Elizabeth moved to within inches of him. Her eyes were troubled and should have been full of judgment but held only affection, devotion, and something stronger, something he dared not hope for.
“You know I will stand by you.”
He smiled. He could not help it. How remarkable she was, a woman full of substance and character and goodness. Glorious at times, when she wasn’t frustrating him. Luke would do anything—sacrifice everything—to make her happy, even if that meant cutting her out of his life. He adored her. He might even be in love with her.
He was in love with Elizabeth?
Possibly.
Probably.
He crushed her to him and set his forehead to hers.
“Elizabeth.” Her name came out as a ragged sigh. Pressure built in his throat, burned behind his eyes.
“Luke. Oh, Luke.” Trembling in his arms, she feathered her long, slim fingers through his hair. She had a soothing touch, a healing touch, and he wanted to bask in the joy of her. “It’s going to be all right.”
No, it wasn’t. Soon, very soon, nothing would be right again. But for this moment, with the world locked on the other side of the office, Luke would allow himself to be selfish. He would think of Elizabeth as his. Only his.
“Elizabeth.” He buried his face in her hair, breathed in her scent of lilacs and jasmine.
This was where she belonged, in his arms, in his life.
He could hear the voice of reason telling him to release her. The longer he held on to her, the harder it would be to let her go. He kissed the top of her head, stroked a hand over her hair, prayed for some semblance of control.
When she pulled back to look at him, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss started gentle, but it quickly got out of hand. He immediately set her away from him.
They stared at one another, breathing hard, both caught in a storm of emotion. And then she was back in his arms. Luke would never know which of them moved first—him, her, both perhaps.
Wrapping her tightly to him, he allowed himself one more moment, one final indulgence, then stepped away from her again and turned his back on her. “I have to go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“I’ll see you home first.”
“I’m not going home.”
He didn’t look at her. “You are.”
Moving around him, eyes shining with sympathy, she took one of his hands and placed a kiss to his palm. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, his heart tripped over itself. To keep from pulling her close, he folded his arms across his chest.
“I want to be with you when you speak with Penelope.”
“This is a family matter.” Unwilling to drag her into this drama, he hardened his heart. “You are not family.”
Eyes bleak, she said, “Please don’t shut me out.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Even if you don’t want my support, I know some of what Penelope will be experiencing when she discovers the truth about her father. I can be a comfort to her.”
She made a valid argument. Luke nearly relented. But, as she herself said, Elizabeth had endured her own pain in recent months. He wanted to shield her from suffering any more.
“Go home, Little Bit.”
“Why are you pushing me way?”
“You must disassociate yourself from my family or risk suffering guilt by association.”
“Right, now I get it.” She smiled, though her smile was anything but pleasant. “This is yet another of your misguided attempts to protect me.”
“Misguided? Hardly.”
“I thought you knew me.”
“I do know you.” He reached for her.
She shrank from his touch. “You think I would desert Penelope and Sophie, for the sake of my own reputation?”
“That’s not what I said.”
Her cheeks colored to a deep, angry red. “You think I would desert you?”
Luke swallowed around the knot in his throat. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Therein lay the problem. Elizabeth would fight for those she loved, at great risk to herself. She was the very definition of Christian integrity. He could send her home, but he knew that wouldn’t keep her from standing with him and his family.
“I have another idea,” he found himself saying. “I’ll go to my father and let him know of Sophie’s plans to confront him.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“He will make matters right with my mother and Penelope and, of course, Sophie.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I will.”
The sound of piano music greeted Elizabeth when she entered St. James House. She didn’t recognize the piece, but she recognized the quality of the playing.
Happy for the distraction after the emotionally draining time in Luke’s office, and during the tense car ride to St. James House, she divested herself of her cloak. Then, she made her way to the music room.
Pausing at the top of the stairs leading into the sunken space, Elizabeth shut her eyes and let the music flow over her.
The haunting melody matched her mood. Her mind instantly went to Luke and the way one corner of his mouth had lifted in a sad smile during their difficult conversation. Elizabeth worried for him. He was so strong, so in charge, so willing to take care of the people in his life. But she knew he was suffering unspeakable guilt over what his father had done to the women he loved. Luke shouldered their burdens and did what he could to protect them from harm.
Elizabeth adored the competent way he entered a situation and took charge. But who took care of him?
Who protected him? Who stood for him?
No one. He was alone, so alone.
He needs me.
He refused to accept her support.
Elizabeth wanted to weep in frustration. She could be his helpmate, the one person who would stand by him, always, who had the honor of sharing his joys and sorrows.
Sighing, she dropped her head, studied the toe of her boot.
She would never be that woman, not as things stood, not unless Luke stopped seeing her as yet another person requiring his protection. She ached to convince him she was his perfect match. There had to be a way to make him see her as a woman he could count on. A woman he could take rest in and turn to when he found himself overburdened with life’s cares.
That was the biblical model of marriage and the life she wanted with Luke.
The playing stopped abruptly. “Is someone there?”
“Just me, Sally.”
Elizabeth entered the music room. The heels of her ankle boots clicked across the wood-slatted floors, bouncing off the walls and high-vaulted ceilings designed specifically for acoustics.
Stopping near the piano, she smiled at her maid. The young woman sat at the bench, her lace cap sitting beside her. She’d let down her hair, and now it hung in thick caramel waves past her shoulders. There was something in her eyes, a vulnerability that was foreign to the Sally Smith whom Elizabeth knew.
The maid looked as haunted as the music she’d been playing.
“Please don’t stop on my account,” Elizabeth told her, meeting the maid’s eyes. “I never tire of listening to you play.”
Sally reached for her cap, twisted the edges betwe
en her fingers, before returning it to her head. “I’ve been at it for nearly two hours. I could use a break.”
Knowing her maid didn’t like answering personal questions, Elizabeth considered leaving it at that. But something about the woman’s posture told her to press on, if for no other reason than to let her know someone cared about her. She started with a simple statement. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to take me up on my offer to play whenever you have a free moment or two.”
Sally smiled, the sadness still in her eyes.
“Someone once said music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”
“The quote is attributed to Victor Hugo.”
Elizabeth started. The maid knew the saying was from the famous playwright and poet? Where could she have learned something like that?
Sighing, Sally stared wistfully at the piano, ran her fingers over the black lacquered wood above the ivory keys.
“It’s such a beautiful instrument.” She played a few bars of a Bach concerto before drawing her hands away and setting them carefully on her lap. “The tone is excellent.”
Elizabeth could tell by the reverence in Sally’s words that the young woman had a great affection for playing the piano. Love without reservation. Elizabeth was too late to help Hester. But she could do something tangible and lasting for Sally. Even if it was as simple as encouraging her to pursue her passion for music. “Where did you learn to play so exquisitely?”
Sally flinched. The reflexive gesture gave Elizabeth the impression she’d pushed the maid too far and now Sally wouldn’t answer her question. But after dragging air into her lungs, she said, “My mother taught me.”
Relieved the young woman had responded, Elizabeth pressed for more. “Is she still alive?”
Her hands flexed in her lap. “No.”
“Do you have any other family?”
Sally shook her head, refusing to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. She didn’t doubt Sally was alone in the world, yet her reluctant answers only raised more questions and made her more determined to help her friend. What kind of sad, lonely world did the maid inhabit, where she had no family to lean on and no one but Elizabeth to share confidences with? “I’m so sorry.”
