“Gwen.” He pressed his cheek to hers and spoke in her ear as his arms closed around her torso. “Darling, this is the bottom of stupid, and perhaps halfway onward to abominable idiocy. Why are you crying?”
She stared very hard at the pagodas. “You know why.” I want you to leave: that was what she should add. But she could not say it. Why couldn’t she say it? He had called her fearless, but she was a coward. She was a coward with him. She had forgotten Trent and Pennington so easily! Their loss had stung less than the scandal attached. She had never loved them in the first place. It had been so easy to wait at the altar for a man she hadn’t loved. Without love, one could not be crippled by loss.
But he was standing here with her. Where was the loss?
It never showed its face before it arrived. It would come. And there were reasons, solid reasons, to doubt him.
She ripped out of his grasp and took a step toward the terrace rail. “You above all people should know why I rebuff you,” she said. One of the pagodas lay in fragments; the axmen had grown tired and stopped mid-work. Had she the strength, she would chop the rest of them up herself. Yes, she would enjoy such violent activity. “Were you not the one who said I must recognize my own desires? Accept them without shame? But how does that fit with you, Alex? You did not respect me enough to let me make my own decision about Trent. You did not bother to consult my wishes. Do you think that spells the path to freedom for me?”
He sighed. “I was wrong,” he said. “I should have shared the news about Trent. I do not argue that. My only excuse is idiocy. I was working very hard, then, to keep as far from you as possible.”
Her hands closed over the railing, clenching tightly. “I don’t believe that. You simply didn’t want to waste your time on informing me. Your interest is fickle. Today you have found me interesting, but tomorrow—”
He caught her elbow. “Spare us,” he said, and his voice had hardened. “Spare us both these tales. Your objections have nothing to do with the Trent affair, and you know it.”
She held silent.
“Don’t be a coward,” he said. “Look me in the face.”
She shrugged out of his grip and pivoted.
No wonder Lady Anne had blushed and shuffled like a child. He was dressed only in his shirtsleeves, a blinding white in the midday light, offering stark contrast to the tanned skin of his throat. A passing breeze ruffled his thick hair, played with the spare material of his sleeves, but he himself was motionless.
“No,” she said. “It has nothing to do with Trent.”
“Yes,” he said. “I know. And here’s something else it has nothing to do with.”
He held out his hand.
She regarded the document warily. And then, looking to his face once more, she took it from him.
“This . . .” She frowned and turned over the document. The seal looked legitimate. Astonishment briefly slackened her grip. “This is the title to Heverley End.”
“Yes,” he said.
“But how—Barrington sold it to you?”
“He never owned it. Gerry didn’t sell the place.”
“But—” She covered her mouth with her hand. None of this made sense. Had he—surely he hadn’t come only to show this to her? But shouldn’t that be precisely her hope?
“Gerry was part of Barrington’s scam.” He pushed his hand through his hair, then sighed and took a seat. “Well, he was. Was being the operative word, here.”
She sank into the chair across from him. She hardly trusted herself to stand. Some storm seemed to breaking inside her, silently, ferociously, scattering her wits and addling her emotions; she barely knew how she felt. “What on earth can you mean?” she asked faintly.
He rolled his eyes. “God knows it only makes sense to Gerry. The rumors about the sale were meant to lend Barrington credibility. He asked Gerry to refer potential clients to him—people looking to sell their estates—and in turn, Barrington passed on a percentage of the selling price. Gerry was using the profits to defray a rent rollback, help his tenants through a poor year’s returns.” Alex drummed his fingers atop the table for a moment. “Idiocy,” he said in disgust. “My brother finally decides to dabble in commerce, and he does so in the name of noblesse oblige.”
She choked on a laugh. She could not help it; he simply looked so put out. But how surreal this scene was becoming—sitting across from each other, speaking so civilly of real estate. At least her amazement had temporarily numbed her distress. “But then—Heverley End? Why is it deeded to you?”