Izzy was in this house, tore at me. It had taken everything in my power not to hunt them down last night while the house slept. I was desperate to see Ginny. Speak to her. To explain. I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, but I would do anything to win over Ginny.
Every feminine voice I heard in the halls sent my heart racing. Every childish giggle made my chest ache. Izzy was over a year old now. According to my research she should be walking, speaking words, even.
“She’ll hate you for this,” Lady Whitfield’s murmured voice whispered through the crack in the door, making me hesitate. “She specifically told you to stop interfering.”
A breakfast had been sent to my room; I hadn’t been invited to join the family this morning. Whitfield claimed I was welcome here, but their actions told me otherwise. It was for the better; I knew they needed time to accept the fact that I remained. Yet, it didn’t make me any less desperate to see Ginny. Did she know I had stayed the night? Did she sense me here, as I sensed her?
“I don’t know what you mean,” Whitfield responded. “The roads are impassable. He’s not the only one who was forced to stay overnight.”
He was good. Very good indeed.
“What are you at?” his wife asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
Whitfield laughed. “So untrusting.”
“I merely know how you think.”
Their voices lowered, murmured whispers, secrets, laughter. They were close, it was obvious. Close in a way that poets would write about, close in a way that debutantes dreamt about. Could Ginny and I ever become that comfortable with each other? I wanted that. Wanted a family I could laugh with, a family who would cheer for me when I did well, support me during difficult times. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, breathing in the possibility. I wanted that. Needed it. And she deserved it.
The clang of silverware from a room across the foyer brought me back into the moment. Feeling as if I intruded long enough on a private conversation, I knocked. There was a pause, then the rustle of skirts as Lady Whitfield hurried to greet me. The door was pushed wide. The brilliant smile upon her lovely face was welcoming, even if her eyes showed her wariness.
“Lord Chambers. Please, do come in. I was just leaving to check on the children. They get so excited around this time of year. One never knows what they’re planning.”
I bowed. “Of course.”
As she left, I moved into the study. Lord Whitfield stood at the windows, his back to me as he gazed out onto snow-covered moors. In the light of day, I could see it was an opulent room that showed his wealth.
A large fireplace at one end, flanked by brown, leather chairs. Rich, wooden shelves full of books. So many books. A smile pulled at my lips. I could imagine how excited Ginny must have been. Large windows stood on either side of a massive mahogany desk, and allowed the daylight to wash the room in a peaceful glow.
I didn’t miss the toy train in the far corner, or the well-loved cloth doll with the missing eye that rested upon the chair near the hearth. He welcomed his children into his domain. It was a study for a lord, and a loving father. He was at ease here. He belonged in this world. I didn’t. But I wanted to. Damn it all, I had to try.
“You wished to speak with me?”
“Lord Chambers, really,” he turned to face me. “Did you think I wasn’t aware of your existence, and your relationship with my sister before last night?”
I stiffened.
“We, I believe, should place everything upon the table. Show our cards, so to speak.” He strolled across the room to the sidebar. “See, I’ve been busy this last year, researching you.”
Hell and damnation. My parents wouldn’t speak a word, nor would Chris. They had as much to lose as I did. Miss Lamier had told him, I was sure of it. The question was, had she helped or hindered my cause? I would soon find out.
He released a harsh laugh. “And I thought my family scandalous. Your uncle died mysteriously. Some say he was poisoned, and most blame your father.”
True.
He poured two drinks and started back toward me. “Your father, of course, inherited the title. Which was serendipitous, as he had used up any money of his own.”