Marrying Mr. English:The English Brothers #7(28)

"Hello, Geoffrey," she said warmly.

"Happy New Year," he answered with a grim smile, taking a long sip of his drink.

"I hope it will be," she said.

"Of course it will be," said Charity, entering the room and taking Geoffrey's arm with a big show.

He brightened suddenly, his face losing years as he looked down hopefully at his ex-fiancée's hand on his arm.

Poor man, thought Eleanora. It's obvious he's crazy for her and-from what Tom had told her-Charity's just stringing him along.                       
       
           



       

Charity's eyes swept over Eleanora and slid to Tom, where they lingered  for a moment, her lips turning down when she didn't find what she was  looking for. Eleanora felt Tom's arm slip around her waist and his lips  press tenderly to her temple. She was waiting when Charity met her eyes  with a flinty expression.

You see, said the look she gave Charity. He's mine.

"Dinner's ready," said Charity, turning to her sad-sack ex-fiancé.  "Come, Geoffrey. I've switched things around and put you next to me,  after all."

***

Charity's ridiculous rivalry with Eleanora strained things at the table  for the first course, but by the second, Dean Gordon had taken over the  conversation with a discussion of future improvements at Kinsey, and  with four graduates at the table, they didn't lack for opinions or  debate.

One thing that bothered Tom, aside from Charity's frosty treatment of  his wife, was the way she was treating Geoffrey. If he'd been better  friends with Geoffrey, Tom would have pulled him aside and told him to  run for the hills-reminding him that there were a million delightful  girls in Boston, where Geoffrey was from, or in New York, where he lived  and worked-and advised him to find some sweet girl who could make him  happy. But Geoffrey only seemed to have eyes for Charity, delighted when  she gave him a moment of attention, and subdued but accepting when she  made eyes at Tom.

It made him extra grateful for what he'd somehow managed to find with  Eleanora-someone who had quickly become his whole world, but who loved  him back in equal measure. How terrible to be in a relationship with  someone when it was clear you were the one who loved harder and better,  and always would. What a lonely way to live, to know that the love you  bore would never be returned, that your heart would ache for more, and  more would never be forthcoming.

And suddenly he was reminded of a verse from one of Elizabeth Barrett  Browning's sonnets: "The face of all the world is changed, I  think,/Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul."

Under the table, he reached for his wife's hand and squeezed it with  unending gratitude. For finding her. For her love. For the right to love  her. For the footsteps of her soul across the landscape of his heart.

After dessert she turned to him. "The bathroom?"

"I'm guessing it's in the front hallway," he whispered, standing as she  excused herself, and noticing when Alex Gordon left the table not a  moment later.

He would have had to be blind not to notice the way Alex had been  staring at Eleanora from across the table, and after a few minutes of  polite conversation, on which Tom could barely focus, he excused himself  as well, hopeful that he'd intercept his wife before Alex did.

He stopped just short of the vestibule, standing in a dark hallway  between the dining room and front foyer, as he heard Alex Gordon's voice  ask, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay," said Eleanora.

"How old are you? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?"

"Around there."

Alex's cocky voice continued. "Then why on earth are you with an old man  like Tom English? For God's sake, he could be your father."

"Sure. If he fathered me at nine," she said dryly.

"Come on, sweets. You know what I mean. He's old. He's dull. You're too  young and too foxy to be tied down. I mean, your ass? It's a thing of  total beauty, and I say that having attended college in New York City  for the past three years. I've known many beautiful women and never had  any complaints. Let's get out of here and go have some real fun. What do  you say?"

She chuckled as though his words were genuinely amusing, and Tom pressed  his hand to his chest, sucking in a painful breath and holding it.

Alex Gordon was right. She was young and beautiful, and Tom was quickly  heading into his mid-thirties. Right now, he was different from other  men she'd met, and maybe that made him seem unique or special to her.  But sooner than later, she'd be able to move fluidly in his world of  privilege. How long until she realized that she could have any man in  his social set? Any of his peers, including the younger ones? The richer  ones? How long until she realized she'd made a bad deal and wanted out?  Wanted someone younger and cooler?

He quieted his mind as she spoke again. "It's Alex, right?"

"It is," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

"I like the name Alex."

"There's a lot more to like than my name, kitten. I promise you that."

"Alex, do you know how Tom and I met?"

"Sure. In Vail."                       
       
           



       

"On the slopes?" she asked.

"I'm assuming. Or through friends."

"Through friends," she repeated, laughing softly. "How about my education? What do you figure?"

"Bryn Mawr? Vassar?"

She sighed. "Are either of those near Princeton?"

He chuckled as though she'd made an amusing remark. "So you went to Princeton."

"No, Alex. I didn't go to Princeton."

There was a pause, and Tom's lips twitched as he remembered the first  time he'd ever seen his wife, giving a forward skier hell when he'd had  the indecency to proposition her at Auntie Rose's. By the tone of her  voice, he was fairly certain he knew what was coming next, and he  exhaled softly, relaxing against the wall behind him to enjoy it.

"Alex, when Tom and I met, almost two weeks ago, I was a waitress in a  twenty-four-hour diner in Vail. I guess you could say we met through  friends. My cousin was trying to, well-let's just be honest here-bang  Tom's friend Van. She was a waitress too."

"Fine," he said tersely. "Have a laugh at my expense."

"I'm not having a laugh. I'm from Romero, Colorado. You've never heard  of it. The extent of my education is some night classes at Colorado  Mountain College. You've never heard of it either. We have no mutual  friends. And I certainly didn't go to Princeton."

"Well," said Alex, and Tom imagined him fumbling now because there was  no way to mistake the sincerity in Eleanora's voice. "I just . . . I  assumed . . ."

"Alex? Can I give you some advice?"

"Well, I . . . I guess so."

"Don't assume. It makes an ass out of you and me," she said, and Tom had  to bite his lip to squelch a guffaw of laughter. Poor Alex Gordon. "The  reason I married Tom English, the reason I fell in love with him, and  the reason I will stay faithfully married to him until the day I die,  despite our age difference and our wildly dissimilar backgrounds, is  this: Tom saw beyond a waitress uniform. Tom didn't give a, forgive me,  shit about my lack of connections, and my crappy, incomplete education  was never a blip on his radar. He treated me with respect from the  start. And though I'm sure he noticed my ass, he touched my heart. And  he was the first man . . ." She laughed softly, and Tom wondered what  was coming next. ". . . who didn't treat me like meat."

He got the joke and laughed silently to himself.

"In short, Alex," she finished, "he wasn't a jerk."

"I never said he was," Alex rallied back defensively. "Tom's a fine-"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Don't be a jerk, Alex. You're what? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-one," he confirmed, his voice strained. "Almost."

"Almost twenty-one," she repeated gently, and Tom imagined her smiling  at Alex Gordon, showing him a little mercy. "You still have time to  learn how to stop being a jerk before it's too late. Don't squander it,  huh?"

"I think I'll go back in and join the others," said Alex, his voice low and embarrassed.

"That's fine. But to answer your question? I say no, Alex. Thank you for  asking, but I'm happily married to my husband, so no, I'm not  interested in leaving him here and going off with you."

Tom heard her heels move on the hardwood floor, and she rounded the  corner, standing before him in the dim hallway, her eyes widening in  surprise to find him suddenly in front of her.

"Tom," she whispered.

"You're fucking amazing," he murmured, grabbing her arm and pulling her against his chest.