place.”
“I had the rooms cleaned this morning,” he stated gruffly. “They had not been used for a very long time. Almost five years.” He turned and tossed his hat onto a chair. A line of flat hair ringed his short-cropped brown mane. She longed to ruffle it out.
He grabbed a log and pitched it into the grate, and the flames jumped and crackled. “We did not know of this place until after…” His voice trailed off. He shifted his shoulders and remained crouched staring into the fire. “…until after George died.”
“What happened to your brother?”
“George was the eldest. He was the marquis of Rawlings, not me. I was never meant to be. He was brilliant. A star that shined so brightly. Mother adored him.” He looked around the room with detachment. He stood and toyed with a golden clock sitting atop the mantel. “Apparently he used to come here often, to be, when he was…not feeling himself.” He set the clock down and turned. “He must not have been feeling himself when he took a pistol and used it to shoot himself in the head.”
She let out a long, painful breath. Her heart weighed heavy with sadness for him. “I am so sorry.”
He sat on the edge of the sofa, his eyes staring unseeing into the fire. “It was at our estate in Bedford.” He shifted his shoulders. “It was a long time ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. We said it was a hunting accident. No one knows the truth, except for a handful of people. Where’s the point in saying otherwise?”
She could not imagine the anguish of living with such pain, and such secrets. She knew too well the bitter taste of both and did not wish that on anyone. The poor man was struggling mightily with his demons. Trying to exorcise the past and free himself for living. Evelyn had noticed Justin’s reserve, his apparent aversion to enjoying life too much, his reluctance to expose too much of himself in any endeavor. Did he think that he did not deserve to be happy?
He stood abruptly and held out the key. “It’s for you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“This place is for you.”
He shoved it into her hand. The heavy metal was cold in her naked palm. “I do not understand, Justin.”
“You seem in need of…an escape. You will not accept my assistance, yet you obviously have concerns that weigh heavily on your mind. I wanted to give you a place where you are free. A place all your own, where you can be yourself.”
That was what Justin needed, not her. But as she stared at the golden key in her hand, it shifted and blurred. She raised her fingers to her face. Wet, hot tears streaked her cheeks.
“I am a fool,” he said as he stepped closer and enveloped her in his arms. “I should not have done this.”
She shook her head but could not move it much, as she was pressed against the soft wool of his black riding jacket. There it was again, that woodsy, musky scent. She inhaled deeply of him and cleared her throat.
Her voice was muffled. “No. It’s just that, well, this is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me. To think of me and my needs so unselfishly…it is a testament to the kind of man you are.”
His arms suddenly squeezed her so hard that she found it difficult to breathe. He released her and turned away so abruptly that she almost fell, but she caught herself on the edge of the couch.
He grabbed the poker and angrily jabbed at the flames in the hearth. “You always attribute such valiant character traits to me,” he charged harshly.
“But if they suit?”
He might wish to deny it, but he was one of the most wonderfully kindhearted men she’d ever encountered.
He stabbed at the flames as if to slaughter them. “I am no hero.”
She tilted her head, considering his words. Yes, it seemed that he was a bit of a hero to her. A quiet hero struggling to overcome his haunted past. A civilized man in a world of lies and betrayal. A friend who offered himself and demanded nothing in return.
“I am going to
“I had the rooms cleaned this morning,” he stated gruffly. “They had not been used for a very long time. Almost five years.” He turned and tossed his hat onto a chair. A line of flat hair ringed his short-cropped brown mane. She longed to ruffle it out.
He grabbed a log and pitched it into the grate, and the flames jumped and crackled. “We did not know of this place until after…” His voice trailed off. He shifted his shoulders and remained crouched staring into the fire. “…until after George died.”
“What happened to your brother?”
“George was the eldest. He was the marquis of Rawlings, not me. I was never meant to be. He was brilliant. A star that shined so brightly. Mother adored him.” He looked around the room with detachment. He stood and toyed with a golden clock sitting atop the mantel. “Apparently he used to come here often, to be, when he was…not feeling himself.” He set the clock down and turned. “He must not have been feeling himself when he took a pistol and used it to shoot himself in the head.”
She let out a long, painful breath. Her heart weighed heavy with sadness for him. “I am so sorry.”
He sat on the edge of the sofa, his eyes staring unseeing into the fire. “It was at our estate in Bedford.” He shifted his shoulders. “It was a long time ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. We said it was a hunting accident. No one knows the truth, except for a handful of people. Where’s the point in saying otherwise?”
She could not imagine the anguish of living with such pain, and such secrets. She knew too well the bitter taste of both and did not wish that on anyone. The poor man was struggling mightily with his demons. Trying to exorcise the past and free himself for living. Evelyn had noticed Justin’s reserve, his apparent aversion to enjoying life too much, his reluctance to expose too much of himself in any endeavor. Did he think that he did not deserve to be happy?
He stood abruptly and held out the key. “It’s for you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“This place is for you.”
He shoved it into her hand. The heavy metal was cold in her naked palm. “I do not understand, Justin.”
“You seem in need of…an escape. You will not accept my assistance, yet you obviously have concerns that weigh heavily on your mind. I wanted to give you a place where you are free. A place all your own, where you can be yourself.”
That was what Justin needed, not her. But as she stared at the golden key in her hand, it shifted and blurred. She raised her fingers to her face. Wet, hot tears streaked her cheeks.
“I am a fool,” he said as he stepped closer and enveloped her in his arms. “I should not have done this.”
She shook her head but could not move it much, as she was pressed against the soft wool of his black riding jacket. There it was again, that woodsy, musky scent. She inhaled deeply of him and cleared her throat.
Her voice was muffled. “No. It’s just that, well, this is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me. To think of me and my needs so unselfishly…it is a testament to the kind of man you are.”
His arms suddenly squeezed her so hard that she found it difficult to breathe. He released her and turned away so abruptly that she almost fell, but she caught herself on the edge of the couch.
He grabbed the poker and angrily jabbed at the flames in the hearth. “You always attribute such valiant character traits to me,” he charged harshly.
“But if they suit?”
He might wish to deny it, but he was one of the most wonderfully kindhearted men she’d ever encountered.
He stabbed at the flames as if to slaughter them. “I am no hero.”
She tilted her head, considering his words. Yes, it seemed that he was a bit of a hero to her. A quiet hero struggling to overcome his haunted past. A civilized man in a world of lies and betrayal. A friend who offered himself and demanded nothing in return.
“I am going to
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