All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (41 page)

All the advantages would flow from him to her. He was the scion of an old Virginia family with an honorable past; she was the illegitimate daughter of a man living under a cloud in genteel poverty. Marriage to an Ashmore would be a step up in the world for her. He would always be firmly in control, choosing how much of himself to share. She would be grateful for what he gave her; she would never demand his soul. No heights or depths, no out-of-control passions, just a peaceful and contented family life that would not interfere with his life’s work.

With Laura Abbott, it would have been all about him.

He’d known, even then, that it was not enough.

Never would he know with her the exhilaration that he had known with Diana.

Never would he know the challenge of being mated with an equal. An other. A person separate and apart, with her own thoughts and dreams and ambitions.

And that, Mom, is the reason for this whole debacle, right there in a nutshell.

He’d always prized the layers in Diana, no matter what she had later claimed. He’d loved the elusive mystery of her, that, even as he possessed her, she held part of herself out of reach. He’d valued that, with their disparate backgrounds, she hadn’t given a rip for his old Virginia name and ancient homestead. He’d never been sure why Diana had said yes – if “I guess so” qualified as a yes – but at least he’d known, unlike St. Bride, that his wife hadn’t married him for his worldly goods.

And therein lay the rub. Diana hadn’t cared for the traditions that formed the backdrop to his life; she’d wanted to go running around Europe like her parents. She hadn’t been interested in creating a future with him, building on the foundation of the Ashmore heritage. Given the opportunity to build, she had emulated her mother and chosen to destroy.

Unlike Laura, in whom, Philip Ashmore had said, still waters ran very, very deep.

Richard glanced at her. “Relax. We’ll be there soon.”

What would marriage to Laura be like? Who knew what any woman was like, until you lived with her? St. Bride had apparently found her layers frustrating – more complex than he wanted to deal with. Had he seen that millpond surface and ignored the powerful currents beneath? Discovered too late that he had gotten much more than he had bargained for?
For money. Everyone knows that.
St. Bride must have enjoyed being King Cophetua, holding the firm upper hand, only to find that his quiet little beggar maid hid an unstoppable talent. The dynamics of that marriage must have changed radically once Cat Courtney came out of hiding.

No, not an uncomplicated creature. Not at all.

Deep down inside Laura Abbott lived – and had always lived, even if everyone had been blind to the fact – the power and passion of Cat Courtney. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that Cat was more than just a job to Laura, another costume she put on, like the wig and the mystery, when she performed on stage. That Cat was closer to the reality of this woman than her serene exterior.

He’d watched, aghast, as Diana had tried to destroy her that afternoon. He’d worried that, there at his home where he wanted her to feel safe, she might suffer a devastating humiliation that she would never survive. He should have known better. It had been Diana who had slunk away, Laura who had brandished a sword in victory.

And that had been no sweet, submissive, demure woman beneath him a few minutes before.

“Are you cold?” Richard asked finally, to break the silence, and she shook her head. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that she had started twisting her hands again.

This wasn’t an obedient child to thank him for whatever crumbs he chose to throw her way. She’d made that abundantly clear.
I will not settle for less.
And he was no longer the lord of the manor to raise the beggar maid up and dust her off. Laura Abbott didn’t need his name or background. She needed what Diana had never needed or wanted. She needed – she demanded –
him
.

If he could break the ingrained reserve of years, find his heart again, and hand it over.

They had driven twenty miles – twenty long, drenched, silent miles, past two accidents with flashing lights and wrecked cars – when she finally spoke.

“I know this must look bad to you.” She was staring straight ahead. “Please don’t think Meg is a brat. She isn’t. It’s my fault for leaving her this summer.”

He had best keep his opinion of Meg St. Bride’s behavior to himself. “Stop blaming yourself, Laura. It’s obvious you’re a good mother.”

Unlike Julie’s mother, encouraging her to rebel for the sheer pleasure of defying him.

Laura said in a rush, “I can’t imagine what made her do this. She knows better. She could have been killed – the plane could have crashed, and I wouldn’t have known—”

This was why children needed two parents. Someone had to step in and stop this fruitless maternal hand-wringing about a disaster that manifestly hadn’t happened. “She’s safe on the ground. You told her to wait by the car rental counter, didn’t you? That’s the last part of the airport to close down. She’ll be fine. We’ll be there soon.”

“She knows better.” Laura knit her fingers together. “Cam was always so insistent on security. We tried to impress on her that she was a target for kidnappers—” that startled him—“we told her she was never, ever to be out of reach, and she could never be out alone. It was either that or a bodyguard, and we wanted her to have a normal childhood. She must have turned the GPS off.”

“GPS?” He saw a particularly slick spot ahead – one time he was grateful for being far-sighted – and slowed down.

“There’s a locator built into her phone – a panic button too. It’s supposed to send a signal if she moves out of range. Then I can look up her location.” Laura stopped, as if a thought struck her. “I’ve got the same thing. You can track me if you have the code.”

“That’s useful to know. Like belling a cat.”

That small attempt at humor fell flat. She leaned back and closed her eyes, but he sensed that, beneath the millpond, the waters were suddenly agitated. He drove another few miles before he broached a nagging question. “How did she pay for a plane ticket?”

Laura didn’t open her eyes. “Oh, she’s on my Amex.” She sounded distracted. “Cam gave her a card a couple of years ago so she could hang out at the mall with her friends. He got sick of her twenty-dollaring him to death. I let her keep it for the summer so she wouldn’t have to ask Emma or Mark. But she has to call me if she’s going to spend more than a hundred dollars.”

A thirteen-year-old with a cell phone and an unlimited credit card. He’d sit on that opinion too. Too bad he had no authority over Miss St. Bride; he’d confiscate that card first thing, following seconds later with her phone and any privileges she’d thought of enjoying for the rest of the summer.

To her credit, Laura added, “The first thing I’m going to do is get that card from her. She is in so much trouble. She won’t need it.”

He slowed down for another slick spot. “Have you decided on her punishment?”

He had to admit to genuine curiosity. On the drive to the lock-in, Julie had been quick to tell him that Laura had chewed her out (“Do you think she should talk to me like that?”) and he had instantly been incensed that Laura had overstepped her bounds. He’d needed an hour to cool down. Julie was
his
daughter. Whatever they were going to be to each other –
parents in a blended family
, he tried the thought on for size – he and Laura were going to have to work out boundaries.

Boundaries that might have to be elastic. Laura was Julie’s aunt; she deserved the same rights he’d always allowed Lucy. And he, good Lord, was ostensibly this little hellion’s
uncle
.

“Not yet.” Laura’s hands were twisting again in her lap. She hesitated for a moment, and then burst out, “I know what you think, Richard. You think she is an absolute terror. She isn’t, really she isn’t, but – she’s not Julie, okay? She’s not perfect. She’s just – well, she’s willful at times.”

“Perfect?” He didn’t bother to mask his surprise. “You think Julie is perfect? After today?” He negotiated a curve. “I’d say the two of them are about even right now.”

She inclined her face toward him. “What happened? Julie said—” she let a certain rueful humor into her voice, “you caught them kissing and – oh, what was the word?
Embarrassed
her in front of her boyfriend.”

She sounded more like herself now. The emotional storm seemed to be passing, and Richard relaxed. “Kissing? Is that what that was?”

Laura turned and laid her cheek on the headrest. “Just kissing is the description I got.”

He wasn’t going to forget what he had seen for a long time. He wished he could; it wasn’t a mental image he cared to carry around. “Huh. And we were
just
saying good night a little while ago. Kissing was part of the package, so technically she was telling the truth. But I’ll bet she left out the part where she was straddling him on the sofa and he had his hands under her shirt.”

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “I didn’t hear that part. Good Lord, they got down to it fast, didn’t they? They’d only been gone a few minutes.” She added, “And – I know you don’t want to hear this, but she wasn’t wearing a bra, not under that shirt.”

“Thanks. That really eases my mind.” She laughed again, and he tossed her a grin. The flip side of having to share responsibilities he’d had to himself for so many years was –
sharing
. Listening to Scott and Mel talk about their kids, he had always envied their ability to shoulder the burdens and privileges of parenthood together. “Not that I was slow off the mark when I was sixteen, as Diana kindly let everyone know, but that was fast work, even for me.”

She said teasingly, “You and Di never got caught by my father?”

“Never.” He glanced sidelong at her. “I was smart enough not to ever let that be a possibility.”

She said nothing for a moment, and then she dropped the bomb. “What about when you climbed the tree into her room?”

His turn for silence. “All right,” he said finally, and wondered what else Diana had blurted out to all and sundry. Tree branches, pet names… apparently, she’d held very little sacred. “Mind telling me how you know about that?”

“We all knew,” Laura said, and he closed his eyes for a second in disbelief. “Di told Lucy, and Francie overheard and told me. Don’t worry, none of us ever told Daddy.”

And women worried about men talking. “To get back to
Julie
,” he emphasized. “I understand the power of teenage hormones. I remember enough to want to shield her – she has her entire adult life for sex. Since Diana made it so public today, I’ll admit that, yes, we were sexually active, and, looking back, my blood runs cold at the risks we ran. It’s a miracle she didn’t get pregnant in high school. If there is one thing I want for Julie – go ahead and laugh, but here it is – I’d like her to break the Abbott tradition and graduate from high school a virgin.”

A moment of silence, and then Laura sputtered in indignation, “I beg your pardon. I was
so.
”

“Really?” He knew very little about her high school years. He had been a married college student and a father for most of that time; occasionally, he’d heard about her from Lucy or his mother, but in the midst of his disintegrating marriage, he had scarcely paid attention. “I thought you had some serious boyfriend that Dominic made you break up with because things got too intense.”

“I did.” Laura’s body language spoke volumes; she was staring hard through the windshield, her arms folded across the borrowed polo shirt, no longer the laughing, engaging woman of a few minutes before. “And we
did not
have sex. We fooled around a little, and maybe things got as far as they did with Julie today – although not that fast, I can assure you, but – I don’t care what my father said. I didn’t.” She sounded ready to cry. “And did he take out an
ad?
How do you know about that anyway?”

He had the appalling suspicion that he’d heard it straight from her twin. “I don’t remember, Laura. That was a long time ago. Don’t sweat it.”

Of course, she didn’t risk a physical relationship. She didn’t fall in love, she hardly allowed herself to date. She was too busy working to save money to run away, and
you
didn’t see it because you were too busy being a fool with her sister.
He added, “I hope Julie will follow your example.”

They lapsed into silence. She withdrew visibly into herself, turning away and staring out the window. They had another twenty miles to Richmond, and the rain was still coming down in sheets, loud and hard against the windshield and moon roof. The glass had started to fog up; he had to switch on the air conditioning, and Richard noticed that she huddled down into herself to keep warm.

Midnight. The airport must be empty by now. He hoped that Meg St. Bride wasn’t scared, that she’d stayed at the car rental counter where they could find her easily.

They drove through a mile of a sudden rainburst, loud splatters against the glass. She murmured something, and he had to ask her to repeat it.