Her Secondhand Groom(95)

“And what would those be?”

“The ones you tell yourself, or the real ones?” Marcus challenged.

Patrick swallowed. Just what did his friend know anyhow? Before he could ask, Marcus spoke again.

“You might tell yourself you want a mother for your girls, but that’s not true, Patrick. What you really want is an equal. You―”

“I had that with Abigail.”

“No, what you had with Abigail was an overgrown child. Sit back down. Now. I am not done speaking to you. I listened to your observations a few months ago when I confronted you about your involvement with Emma’s impending marriage to Sir Wallace, now you’ll grant me the same courtesy and listen to me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Patrick, can you deny what I said?”

Sadly, he couldn’t. Though he’d loved Abigail, many of the things he’d done for her over the course of their marriage were more in line with what a parent or older brother might do, not a husband. “No.”

“Patrick, she wasn’t a good match for you. She just wasn’t. Of course at the time you married her, I wasn’t in a position to advise you against asking for her hand, and I honestly hoped she’d mature as time passed, but I know she didn’t.” He shook his head. “Look at the way she treated poor Caroline.”

Patrick nodded. For being secluded for more than thirteen years, Marcus was quite a good detective. Abigail had treated Caroline horribly, all for a reason Patrick couldn’t fully understand. Before their wedding, Olivia intentionally let Caroline’s secret slip. Besides mortifying Caroline, nobody else thought a thing about it, except Abigail. She’d grown jealous and refused to ever go to Ridge Water. Instead, she’d invite Marcus―just Marcus―to Briar Creek, then ooze false charm. But it was still obvious she detested Caroline. It was only at Patrick’s demand she “agreed” to chaperone Caroline for a Season if Marcus was able to scrape together the funds.

“I’m sorry she treated Caroline that way,” Patrick said solemnly. “She had no right, and I should have demanded Abigail treat her better far sooner than I did.”

Marcus waved his hand through the air. “It’s of no account now, the past is the past. Besides, Caroline has never held a grudge in her life. But that’s irrelevant to our conversation. What is relevant is that Abigail was not the woman she, or you, would have us all believe she was.” He sighed. “Quit protecting her, Patrick. You did enough of that while she was alive. It’s time for you to start living your life. And while I’ll admit I didn’t approve of your most recent match at first—through no fault of the bride’s—I think you’ve made an excellent choice this time.”

“She left,” Patrick said flatly.

Marcus cocked his head to the side. “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it. We quarreled and she left.”

“Perhaps she’s coming back, then,” Marcus said with a shrug.

“She’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

Patrick exhaled. “Yes. Quite.”

“That doesn’t sound like Juliet,” Marcus said. He picked up his quill and started idly tapping it against the side of his jaw.

“Whether it sounds like her or not, it’s the truth,” Patrick admitted, glancing to the floor. Why had he been so heartless as to treat her that way?

“Because we tend to hurt those we’re the closest to the most, and it’s obvious you love her,” Marcus commented.

Patrick’s head snapped up to look at his grinning friend. “Pardon?”

“Most times I ignore, or pretend not to notice when you mumble under your breath. You do it mainly when you’re upset. This time I decided to answer your question for you.”

Patrick ground his teeth. “Well, thank you, Marcus, but I’d already come to that conclusion many weeks ago.”

“Which conclusion?”

“That I love her,” he said through clenched teeth, ignoring the blush he was sure was stealing over his cheeks.

Marcus chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed, Patrick. I’ve admitted my love for a woman in front of you on more than one occasion. It’s not the most masculine pursuit, I’ll grant you, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He dropped his quill and leaned back in his chair again. “I do wonder, however, if she knows you love her.”

Patrick lowered his head and scoffed. She wouldn’t care if he loved her or not, she didn’t love him.

“Perhaps you ought to tell her, and find out for yourself.”

Patrick’s head jerked up. “Is she here?” he asked, too excited at the prospect of seeing his wife to care he’d just been caught mumbling under his breath again.