this point.
“When Freddie first arrived on my doorstep, it was as bearer of the news that his godfather, Sir Reginald, had died after a brief illness he had kept hidden from me and from most of his friends. He had no family.”
Garrett held her securely in his arms. She felt as oddly safe as she had when she’d stumbled into him the other night. “Reggie had tried to take care of me in every way. Leaving me the title to the house I occupy and enough money to remain independent.”
Wordlessly, Garrett reached under her chin and gently pulled her face up so he could look at her directly. Eyes to steal a woman’s soul. Her tears kept falling, wetting his hand as he cupped her jaw and traced his thumb over her cheek.
“I think he was doing the same for Freddie,” she repeated. “Not with money. But he was in his last year of schooling, very naïve and lacking direction. His elder brother had just died in a sailing accident. His father had passed away only a few months before. He needed a friend.”
“The way you had when Sir Reginald entered your life.” A statement not a question.
“This was before the accidents and illnesses that claimed his two uncles and three elder cousins and left him heir to the Clancare title and a legacy he never aspired to. He was very sweet and fun. He made me laugh.”
“So you fell in love and lived happily ever after?”
For the first time she caught a hint of condemnation in Garrett’s gaze. Perhaps not condemnation, but something hard enough to make her pull back and step away from his embrace.
“Not love.”
Her denial sounded hollow even to her own ears because for a time she had allowed herself to believe she loved Freddie Vaughn. The knowledge still hammered at her guilt over the depth of his attachment to a woman so totally unsuitable to become his wife. She did love him, in a way. But for a brief time before his meteoric rise in social status, she had indulged herself in the illusion of a future much as Freddie still wanted to believe was possible.
She felt uncomfortably bereft outside the circle of Garrett Lynch’s arms, bereft and vulnerable as she had not during all of her gushing confession. What had possessed her? Whatever it was that had made her pour out her sordid descent to this man shook her to her core. Her head ached, and she had the distinct feeling she was about to be ill.
She grabbed the bellpull and tugged it vigorously. Silas Polhaven or his wife would surely be upstairs in no time.
“If you will excuse me.” She didn’t trust herself to even look at him again. If she burst into tears she’d be hard-pressed to prevent either of the Polhavens from ringing a peal over his head at the very least.
“I will send someone to give you a limited tour so you can ascertain for yourself if your cousin is here.”
With that, she scooted around the far side of her worktable and fled the room.
Chapter Six
“Here ye go, Mrs. Fitzgerald. A nice tea tray ta fix ye right as rain in no time.”
Teresa entered Maura’s salon bearing a silver tray laden with enough food for three women. Obviously, Dorothy Kelly had taken one look at her employer as she came through the door at this uncharacteristically early hour and decided she had returned home in search of sustenance besides the tea she had requested.
“Mrs. Kelly says ye’re ta eat every bite on these plates or she’ll be in ta have a word with ye jest as soon as she returns from the greengrocer’s.” The maid set the tray on the Pembroke table by the bow window overlooking the back garden.
“Seems the last two batches of taters he sent round were spoilt at the bottom of the crate. And she means ta have a word with him herself.” Teresa busied herself setting out the afternoon tea as she talked.
Maura looked at the feast being spread before her. “I cannot possibly—”
“Mrs. Kelly says I’m ta remind ye of the last time she had a word with the greengrocer, should ye kick up any kind of
“When Freddie first arrived on my doorstep, it was as bearer of the news that his godfather, Sir Reginald, had died after a brief illness he had kept hidden from me and from most of his friends. He had no family.”
Garrett held her securely in his arms. She felt as oddly safe as she had when she’d stumbled into him the other night. “Reggie had tried to take care of me in every way. Leaving me the title to the house I occupy and enough money to remain independent.”
Wordlessly, Garrett reached under her chin and gently pulled her face up so he could look at her directly. Eyes to steal a woman’s soul. Her tears kept falling, wetting his hand as he cupped her jaw and traced his thumb over her cheek.
“I think he was doing the same for Freddie,” she repeated. “Not with money. But he was in his last year of schooling, very naïve and lacking direction. His elder brother had just died in a sailing accident. His father had passed away only a few months before. He needed a friend.”
“The way you had when Sir Reginald entered your life.” A statement not a question.
“This was before the accidents and illnesses that claimed his two uncles and three elder cousins and left him heir to the Clancare title and a legacy he never aspired to. He was very sweet and fun. He made me laugh.”
“So you fell in love and lived happily ever after?”
For the first time she caught a hint of condemnation in Garrett’s gaze. Perhaps not condemnation, but something hard enough to make her pull back and step away from his embrace.
“Not love.”
Her denial sounded hollow even to her own ears because for a time she had allowed herself to believe she loved Freddie Vaughn. The knowledge still hammered at her guilt over the depth of his attachment to a woman so totally unsuitable to become his wife. She did love him, in a way. But for a brief time before his meteoric rise in social status, she had indulged herself in the illusion of a future much as Freddie still wanted to believe was possible.
She felt uncomfortably bereft outside the circle of Garrett Lynch’s arms, bereft and vulnerable as she had not during all of her gushing confession. What had possessed her? Whatever it was that had made her pour out her sordid descent to this man shook her to her core. Her head ached, and she had the distinct feeling she was about to be ill.
She grabbed the bellpull and tugged it vigorously. Silas Polhaven or his wife would surely be upstairs in no time.
“If you will excuse me.” She didn’t trust herself to even look at him again. If she burst into tears she’d be hard-pressed to prevent either of the Polhavens from ringing a peal over his head at the very least.
“I will send someone to give you a limited tour so you can ascertain for yourself if your cousin is here.”
With that, she scooted around the far side of her worktable and fled the room.
Chapter Six
“Here ye go, Mrs. Fitzgerald. A nice tea tray ta fix ye right as rain in no time.”
Teresa entered Maura’s salon bearing a silver tray laden with enough food for three women. Obviously, Dorothy Kelly had taken one look at her employer as she came through the door at this uncharacteristically early hour and decided she had returned home in search of sustenance besides the tea she had requested.
“Mrs. Kelly says ye’re ta eat every bite on these plates or she’ll be in ta have a word with ye jest as soon as she returns from the greengrocer’s.” The maid set the tray on the Pembroke table by the bow window overlooking the back garden.
“Seems the last two batches of taters he sent round were spoilt at the bottom of the crate. And she means ta have a word with him herself.” Teresa busied herself setting out the afternoon tea as she talked.
Maura looked at the feast being spread before her. “I cannot possibly—”
“Mrs. Kelly says I’m ta remind ye of the last time she had a word with the greengrocer, should ye kick up any kind of
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