Armored Hearts - By Melissa Turner Lee Page 0,15
accepted the cup and drank it down before handing it back. “I didn’t come here to discuss my love life with an old bachelor.”
Mr. Strong turned and carried the glasses back to the table. “Whoever said I was a bachelor? And love life, you say. So you think you love the girl?”
Gareth shook his head in frustration before leaping to his chair and having a seat. “No, I don’t love her. I don’t even know her. I don’t believe in that kind of love anyway. So if you aren’t a bachelor, you’re what? A widower?”
“No, I’m not a widower either. I’m happily married and have been for years.”
Gareth looked down the hall and toward the kitchen. “Where’s your wife?”
“She doesn’t stay here. I’m only in town to work. I often visit her, and she comes to visit me. And what kind of love is it you don’t believe in?”
“The kind that’s supposed to last forever. The reason young people get all puppy-eyed and feel the need to bind themselves to someone for the rest of their lives. Only to grow bored and seek the companionship of another. Why bother to begin with?”
Mr. Strong pulled a seat from his desk over and sat across from Gareth. The old man frowned. “You are awfully jaded for a man so young.”
“I speak what I see.” He looked out the window at the patch of blue sky. He’d already opened up more than he liked.
“So what kind of love do you believe in?”
Gareth sat in silence thinking about it. “I care very much for Tabitha. I’d like to see her taken care of and happy. More than I care to be happy myself, I want it for her. So I believe in that kind of love.”
Mr. Strong’s wrinkled forehead scrunched as his brows furrowed. “Well, if that’s how you feel about love and marriage, why force the whole thing on poor Tabitha? According to you, she’s only going to be forgotten for another. You’d have her stuck in a loveless marriage? Better she becomes a governess, wouldn’t it?”
“I…she…” Gareth couldn’t think of an answer. Finally, he pursed his lips and glared at the old man. “I didn’t come here to talk or to think. I came here to swordfight. If we are done with that—we are done.” He tossed his sword to Mr. Strong who caught it in one hand. The muscles in his forearm bulged as he grasped it.
Gareth pushed himself to the door and forced himself down the ramp. How had his distracting game of swords turned into a talk on love? If love and marriage could only bring misery, why did he want it for Tabitha? Maybe he didn’t think it was the way of all marriages but the way of most. He wanted Tabitha to be treasured by someone and protected and cared for. The way Thompton opened doors for Sarah and touched her cheek when he came to the kitchen. Maybe they were fighting today, but for the most part they were the happiest married couple he’d ever seen.
He could picture that for Tabitha. She should have that life.
It just wasn’t for him. He was the rejected, crippled heir. The forgotten and abandoned son of his mother. The man no one looked in the eye because they’d have to bend down to do it. No, he’d not find love, nor would he suffer some woman’s pity in love’s stead.
He pushed himself harder toward the house. He would claim he didn’t feel well once home and have his tray sent to his room. Come darkness, he would have his freedom.
Chapter 4
Jessamine fidgeted with her necklace. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to come to your BUBO club?”
She wasn’t usually so nervous about meeting new people. The gentle rocking motion of the carriage made her a bit nauseated. At least the breeze wafted in and kept her from feeling stifled by the hot afternoon air.
Tabitha smiled and patted her hand. “They will welcome you with open arms. They always do. Mrs. Collins hosts the club meetings weekly. All women with a mind for automation are welcome, no matter their class. At least it’s one thing I might be able to keep.”
Tabitha’s pretty smile was gone, replaced by a downcast look of worry.
Jessamine reached out and touched her shoulder. “Are you unwell?”
Tabitha’s smile looked forced. “I’m fine…for now.”
“And soon you won’t be?”
“I have a habit of looking for numbers to figure. I like them. They comfort me, because it’s one of