Roane tore a huge chunk of sandwich with his teeth, a hungry look in his eyes. I laughed, almost choking on a bite of my own sandwich.
“So where are you at with everything?” Roane asked. There was an infectious energy about him since I said yes to his proposal. He seemed to buzz with a constant happiness and excitement.
It had led to a lot of sex in the past week.
“I’m waiting on a call from my lawyer about the purchase contract. Apparently, it can take a while, so I’m a little antsy. Um, booking my flights home today. Talked to Phil. Talked to Greer—”
“How did that go?”
I sighed. “She cried. I cried. She’s happy for us, but I know she’s worried about me missing the birth, so I’ll have to find the money to fly back out for that.”
Roane stared at me, his eyes searching. “Evie, we can make that happen. I . . . uh . . .” He cleared his throat. “We need to talk—”
My cell suddenly blasted on the kitchen counter, vibrating toward me. “It’s my lawyer.” I recognized the number, excitement causing little flutters in my belly. I shot Roane an apologetic look. “I need to take this.”
He frowned but nodded. “Of course.”
I answered, hopping off the stool because I needed to move with the restless energy that bounced between Roane and me.
The call took longer than I’d thought as my lawyer, Sally, went over everything in the contract that she’d like to negotiate so it sat better in my favor. Some things had come up on the survey, like the age of the roof, and Sally was determined to get money off the purchase price because of it. I didn’t want to create problems between Penny and me, but Sally was adamant the agent had overpriced the building.
The call took so long, Roane whispered he needed to get back to work, and I waved goodbye with a forlorn look, disappointed we hadn’t had time for that quickie.
His eyes promised me “later,” and I smiled at the sweet kiss he pressed to my cheek before he and Shadow let themselves out.
Not long after, I got off my cell, only for it to ring again.
This time it was Caro. A very frantic Caro. Her oven had broken, and she had a three-tiered cake to bake, along with individual cupcakes and vol-au-vents for an anniversary party.
I offered her my kitchen.
* * *
• • •
Closing my shop again, however temporarily, was not ideal, but at the sight of Caro’s panicked look when she rushed downstairs to tell me she didn’t have enough eggs, I couldn’t not offer to go get them.
That’s why I found myself weighed down by plastic bags filled with eggs as I marched out of the convenience store and abruptly slammed into a hard body.
The eggs!
I winced, not even caring I’d bruised my cheek on someone’s shoulder as I looked down into the bags. Oh man, those babies had better be okay.
Glancing up at the person I’d crashed into to belatedly apologize, I gaped in shock.
It was West Elliot, up close and personal.
In the nearly four months I’d lived in Alnster, this was as close as I’d gotten to the man.
Lucas must have inherited his eye color from his mother, because West’s were dark. He was a tall, strapping guy, still rugged and handsome. However, there was a hardness to his eyes and his mouth that I didn’t like.
He flicked his cold gaze down my body and back up again. “You’re the American.”
I tried not to roll my eyes.
That was me. The American. I had a feeling I could live twenty years in this village and I’d still always be the American!
“Yup. You’re West Elliot.”
He gave me a lift of his chin before his gaze fell to my left hand. He scowled. “Rushing into that, are you not?”
I scowled back. “Not sure that’s your business.”
West’s lips pursed as he studied my face.
“Well, if that’s all, I have eggs to deliver—”
“I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”
Surprised, I faltered. “Uh . . . that’s nice.”
“Which is why I think you should know the truth.”
Something about his tone caused a shiver, not the good kind, to skitter down my spine.
Disapproval darkened West’s already frosty expression. “I know what it’s like to be made a fool by someone you trusted. And if you’re a good lass, like everyone says you are, you don’t deserve that.”
The uneasiness settling around me made me irritable. “And what’s the truth?”
“Roane Robson is lying to you.”
I felt my defenses rising. Bad-mouthing Roane was the wrong move with—
“He has all his friends, nearly the whole damn village, covering up his lies for him. I’ve heard them joking about it. How the American girl had rules about dating, and he lied about who he was so you would give him a chance. Has he told you the truth now that he’s got a ring on you?”
Thinking this was just some sick, bitter attempt to cause misery, I huffed, “You’re unbelievable.”
“He hasn’t,” West surmised, crossing his big arms over his chest. “Ask him, lass. Ask him his age. Ask him how much younger he is. But more importantly ask him if he was ever planning to tell you that you’re not only marrying into a fortune, you’re marrying into a baronetcy.”
I leaned away from him, shaking my head.
No.
He was lying.
West sighed. “His father is Sir William George Robson, the twelfth Baronet of Alnster, and when he dies, Roane will be Sir Roane Robson, and if you marry him, you’ll be addressed as Lady Robson.”
If this was a lie . . . it was a very colorful one.
“Ask him, lass,” he repeated before striding by me.
Sick to my stomach, I hurried toward the bookstore. My heart was racing and pounding so fast and hard in my chest, I thought I might throw up. I couldn’t remember even getting to the store.
Yet suddenly I was there. In the apartment, staring at Caro.
She stopped in the middle of pouring batter into cake pans as she looked at me. “Evie, what’s wrong?”
My throat felt dry, rasping as I forced the words out. “Is it true? Is Roane wealthy? Is he the heir to a title?”
Her face paled as she stepped back from the counter. “Evie . . . he’s been trying to tell you.”
The bags in my hands dropped, and the room spun.
Oh my God.
What was I doing? How had I not seen he was keeping secrets?
It looked like I didn’t know Roane Robson at all.
Twenty-Five
Everything felt unreal, the wall and the wood burner merging into one as I stared into space with the cold mug of tea between my hands.
I’d vaguely been aware of Caro calling Roane, sticking a cup of tea in front of me, and packing up her stuff. She left a few moments before with the promise that Roane would be there to explain everything.
Explain everything.
How could he explain this?
When I heard feet pounding up the stairs followed by the familiar clack of dog nails on hardwood, the wall and fireplace unmerged as my vision came back into focus.
I looked toward the doorway as Roane entered the apartment, Shadow skipping across the floor toward me. Numb with shock I could only stare at the dog as he put his face close to mine.
“Hey, boy,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Shadow.” Roane gestured to the dog to move as he replaced him, lowering to his haunches in front of me. His eyes glittered with fear. “Evie.”
“Tell me it isn’t true,” I begged, desperately needing him to have a reasonable explanation now that he was in front of me, reminding me just how much I goddamn loved him.
Guilt etched its way into every one of his features, and suddenly I underst
ood why they called it a broken heart.
It felt like mine had shattered inside my chest, the pain so great it was hard to breathe past the piercing, broken shards.
No.
Tears stung my eyes, flowing over and slipping down my cheeks as Roane cursed under his breath and tried to reach for me. I jerked away. “No,” I bit out, swiping at my tears. “Explain.”
He straightened but only to take the seat beside me.
To my horror, I had to quash the urge to throw myself into his arms. Roane’s arms, after all, were the first and only place I wanted to be when . . . well . . . ever. Biting my lip to hold back more tears, I placed the mug on the floor and curled my arms around my waist to keep the sobs inside.
“When . . . all those months ago . . . you told the entire pub that you wouldn’t date a younger man or a man who had money.”
I flinched, remembering that drunken night. Or at least some of it.
“I never meant to lie to you, Evie . . .” His tone was pleading. “I just . . . I wanted you to give me a chance without my age or money clouding your judgment. I never lied . . . I just omitted things.”
Oh my God.
It was true.
It was really true.
Nausea rolled through my stomach.
“And the entire village was in on this? Lying to me . . . making me the village fool?”
“No.” He gripped my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” I yanked it out of his hold and jerked up off the couch. “Don’t touch me.”
“Fuck, Evie.” Roane’s voice shook. “Please . . . it wasn’t like that. I tried to tell you so many times over the last month but—”
“The last month!” I spun around to face him, my rage and hurt and disappointment building into something I didn’t know if I could control. It was breaking me. “You should have told me from the start!”
“I know.” He stood, holding his hands up defensively. “I know. It’s just . . . I loved you from the start, and I was afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance.”
I didn’t want to hear his excuses. “How old are you?”
Roane exhaled slowly. “I’m just about to turn twenty-seven.”
“You’re twenty-six?” Oh my God, he was almost seven years younger than me.
“Aye.”
Seven years. How could I not have realized that? When I was forty, he would just be turning the age I was now.
“Oh my God.”
“But age doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.”
“But lying does.” I cut him a dark look. “Sir Roane Robson.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, pained. When he opened them, remorse filled them. “Not yet. My father is the baronet . . .” He took a step toward me and stopped when I glared. “The twelfth baronet. It’s not like it sounds. I don’t know how much you know about British aristocracy, but that’s not what a baronetcy is. We’re not peerage. It comes somewhere between a baron and a knighthood. It’s—”
“Is it a title? Is it a historical rank? Does everyone in Northumberland know who you are? Do you come from money?”
“Evie . . .”
“Well?”
He nodded slowly. “Aye. But my mum doesn’t come from money, Evie. She grew up here in Alnster, the daughter of a fisherman. I didn’t want to go to Harrow, so my mum convinced Dad not to send me, and when I started talking like Mum instead of Dad, he never corrected it. My parents wanted me to be who I am, not shape me into something else because of some legacy I would inherit. And I love the farm. I work hard, not because I have to, but because I want to, and they don’t expect or want anything from me. What you’ve seen of me is the truth. This is my life. Nothing about me or what you know about me has changed.”
Confused, I thought of the small farmhouse. “Your home . . .”
He flinched. “Evie . . . the farmhouse once belonged to the estate manager. That’s Bobby now and he didn’t want it. So I took it over. My parents’ home is significantly larger. It’s on the land where we do our arable farming. And our farm is larger than I let on. We’re quite a substantial commercial farm with many employees.”
Realization dawned. That’s why he didn’t take me to that part of the estate.
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked, my bitterness clear.
“The maintenance on the holiday homes . . . it’s a much larger company than I let on. We cover all of Northumberland. Thousands of holiday home owners pay us to maintain their properties, and the revenue for that accounts for a good portion of our income. Moreover, we own properties we let out, as well.”
All the business conversations he’d had on the phone, the ones he disappeared downstairs to take, came back to me. I’d thought he was being considerate. He wasn’t. He just didn’t want me to guess there was more to his business than I’d thought.
Then there was the guy whom Roane had pulled us away from at the Alnwick Garden. Not because he was chatty, no. It was probably because he wasn’t a villager in on the deception, and Roane was afraid he’d mention something about the truth.
Not to mention those times when permits and visas got pushed through quicker than I’d expected. Possibly because Roane had political connections?
And then Erin today.
What a catch. I mean, of course, you are too, but he is easy on the eyes and you’ll never want for anything.
I stared down at the blinding diamond engagement ring.
“You’ve got money,” I surmised.
Roane crossed the room toward me, and I tensed. “Evie.” He reached out to me but halted at my warning glare. “Evie, I’m still the same man.”
A sob burst forth before I could stop it, unexpected and forceful, and I stumbled away from his attempts to comfort me. Once I could speak, I stared at him through blurry vision. “Don’t you get it? It’s not what you lied about, Roane . . . it’s that you lied at all. You lied, not omitted, lied. And you didn’t trust me! You think I would have cared about your age or that you had money based on some reckless drunken comment I made about my past relationships? Do you think because I had a couple of bad experiences dating younger men and because of Chace, I would have held that against you once I got to know you? Do you know me at all?
“Because all this time I thought I knew you better than I know anyone . . . and a whole village was laughing at me because I got engaged to a man I didn’t even know!”
Anger darkened his expression as he gripped my biceps, bending his head to mine. “You do know me,” he promised. “You know what counts.”
I shook my head. “You’re not the same man.” My heart broke all over again, the pain too much as I sobbed. I didn’t even care that I accepted his comfort as he wrapped his arms around me and begged me to forgive him.
But it was so clear to me now that I’d been living in a fucking fantasy. I’d done with Roane what I’d done with Aaron. I was so desperate to find love that I’d rushed in, given myself over to a man I didn’t know at all. Because if he’d lied about this . . . what else had he lied about?
My tears soaked Roane’s shirt as I bawled like a baby.
I bawled for a future I’d been so excited about.
I cried for a life that would never be mine now.
Pushing away from him, my jaw, my cheeks, everything aching with grief, I stared at the man who had caused it. Hating him for it. “I can never look at you the same way. I . . . can never trust you again.”
Fear exploded across his face as he took in my meaning. “Evie, no, we can get through this.”
Shaking my head, I looked down at the glittering diamond on my finger and felt my face crumple again. Sucking in a breath to stop another hysterical meltdown in front of him, I pulled the ring off my finger and held it out to him.
He glared balefully at it, refusing to take it.
I
placed it on the counter instead, my hands shaking.
“You don’t mean this,” Roane whispered hoarsely. “We love each other too much. We’ll figure this out once everything has calmed down. I’m sorry I kept this from you, angel. I’m so sorry, but they’re not malicious lies. It was just stupid omissions that got out of hand. Let’s just talk about it and you’ll see: I’m still me.”
But I knew as I looked at him that everything had changed irreparably. No matter what he said, he was no longer Roane. My kind, loving thirtysomething farmer fiancé. He was this stranger, the son of a baronet, who had made me a fool and hurt me deeper than anyone ever had because of it.
Roane paled at my expression because, apparently, he did know me.
“Evie . . .” His voice broke.
There was still a part of me that wanted to comfort him, and the fresh tears that spilled down my cheeks weren’t just for me. They were for him.
The sound of him whispering my name over and over again made me choke back a sob as I left him behind in the apartment.
Twenty-Six
My suitcases sat by the store door, waiting to be loaded into the cab that was coming for me. Unlike heartbreaking scenes in a movie, torrential rain didn’t accompany the moment. Instead it was a beautiful, too-hot day in Northumberland. Clear skies, bright sun, water glistening with sunlight that cascaded through its gentle waves.
No one knew I was leaving today except Penny.
Poor Penny.
She was thrown by how quickly things had fallen apart. Sally was pretty pissed too that I’d pulled out of the sale.
As I gazed around the bookstore, my chin wobbled and fresh tears stung my eyes. In the last forty-eight hours I’d cried more tears than I knew I had in me. Yet it seemed there was more to come. I had to hold them back until I got back on US soil. Staring around the store made it hard to be strong, because I was going to grieve not only my relationship with Roane, and the village and my friends, but this store.
This beautiful dream that I’d touched with the tips of my fingers.
When I’d returned that awful day to the apartment, Roane and Shadow were gone, and after I’d sobbed a bucketful of tears, I’d pulled out my laptop and googled Roane.
Much Ado About You Page 27
