An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (23 page)

She let out a long breath. Now that it had been said out loud, the truth of it felt so clear. “My sister is not wicked, as you want to believe. I’m not agreeing to your reasons.”

“I understand that part, Rosalinde. What I don’t understand is why you would change your mind about this marriage.”

“Gray, you and I both see the same thing when we look at them. Your brother does not care for Celia. And she doesn’t care for him. Tonight I realized just how much they would be giving up if they marry.”

“Love, you mean.” His voice was raw and his expression taut.

She nodded. “Love, but also desire.” She reached out and touched his chest, feeling the muscles there ripple when her fingers brushed them. “Passion. Perhaps it is naïve, but I don’t want my sister to be in a loveless union where she someday wonders what she missed. Regret is a cold bedfellow.”

He pinched his lips. She had expected him to be pleased that she had come around to his side of this situation. And yet he didn’t look happy.

“So you are saying you want to stop their marriage?” he said.

“I want to make sure they will be able to live with their decision to wed, at the very least. I want to encourage them to reconsider if this empty union will be fulfilling enough,” she clarified. “And if that means they part, I’ll support that. Though I know not what Celia and I would do. My grandfather will be livid.”

“Christ,” he muttered, and got to his feet.

He paced the room, naked and seemingly unaffected by that fact, even though she was. She was even more affected by his demeanor, though.

“Why are you angry? Don’t you
want
an ally in your quest to end this union, even if we come at it from different motivations?”

He barked out a laugh as he faced her. “Oh, my dear, if this wasn’t so entirely depressing, it would be funny.”

She pulled the coverlet around herself, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “What are you talking about?”

“Tonight you decided that Celia must not marry Stenfax. Well, tonight
I
decided the absolute opposite. My brother
must
marry your sister.”

Rosalinde’s mouth dropped open at that declaration and she stared at him. At last she found her breath. “I-I am dreaming. This cannot be real.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he said, running a hand through his thick, short hair. “God’s teeth, what a bloody mess.”

“You can’t just make a statement about how you’ve changed your mind and not explain yourself,” Rosalinde said. “Especially about something so important. Why do you want Stenfax to marry Celia all of a sudden?”

He let out a sigh, and in that sound Rosalinde heard how broken he was. How upset. She wanted to comfort him, but by the way he went back to pacing, tense and unhappy, she recognized that she couldn’t. He might share pleasure with her, but if she touched him now he might recoil.

She couldn’t bear the rejection.

“Gray,” she said softly, forcing her tone to be even and unemotional. “
Please
explain.”

“I met with your sister before the others arrived,” he admitted. “And I couldn’t help but be impressed by her. Perhaps I have simply come to see she is what you say.”

Rosalinde arched a brow. “And so you claim you have changed your mind on such a flimsy reason? After months of being determined to end this union, you wish me to believe that a single conversation with my sister has changed your heart?”

“I suppose that would be sporting with your intelligence.” He let out a long groan.

She shot him a look. “Just a bit, yes. I’m willing to believe that Celia might have softened you to her, but not that it has made you turn around and change your mind. Don’t you have any trust for me, Gray? Won’t you tell me even a fraction of the truth after all we’ve been through and shared?”

He moved toward her, and her heart stuttered as he sat down on the bed next to her. He observed her for a moment before he said, “Being honest, being open, it doesn’t come easy to me. It is not my nature.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Sharing ourselves with others is
entirely
our nature. But it leaves us vulnerable and that makes some recoil. I promise you, Gray—whatever you tell me, it will stay between us.”

Gray reached out to take her hand. He held it, staring at it, and then he shook his head almost in surrender. “Did anyone ever tell you about Elise?”

Rosalinde hesitated. “I admit I know of her. Everyone knows Stenfax was engaged before and that the engagement was broken.”

Gray flinched. “Yes. But do you know anything more about her?”

“Not much. Just the basics that gossip retells. She left Stenfax and married—the Duke of Kirkford, I think I remember. I’ve never met her, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rosalinde said. “And as far as I know, Stenfax hasn’t told Celia anything about her. Why?”

“Of course Stenfax wouldn’t speak of her. He refuses to do so. And most of the whispers have died down now that so long has passed.” Gray rubbed his eyes. “Where do I begin?”

She squeezed his hand gently. “At the beginning seems as good a place as any.”

He exhaled a long breath before he said, “Very well. Elise’s mother and our mother were good friends, and she used to come here in the summers and spend a few weeks every year. She was younger than us, seven years younger than Lucien, four younger than me. She and Felicity were thick as thieves, of course, but they always insisted upon tagging along with us. And she was…well, she was fun. Both she and Felicity could hold their own when it came to boyish pursuits, so though we groused, I don’t think either of us cared all that much when they made themselves part of our expeditions.”

“She was a childhood friend,” Rosalinde said slowly. Gray’s face was hard to read as he spoke, like he’d put a flat mask over his features.

“I suppose I would have called her that once. Felicity certainly would have. But the year Elise came out, it became clear that something had shifted. Lucien couldn’t stop
looking
at her. They weren’t officially courting, but anyone could see they were bonded, closer than friends.”

“Ultimately he courted her, though,” Rosalinde interjected.

Gray rubbed a hand over his face. “Stenfax was young, not sure he wanted to settle down. I…encouraged him, God forgive me. After dancing around it for almost three years, he finally began to court her. I was happy for him at the time, it seemed they would be a good match.”

“But the engagement was broken,” Rosalinde said softly.

Gray bent his head. “Oh yes. Elise showed her true colors eventually. Just a few weeks after their engagement, she broke with him. She married a duke instead, Kirkford, who had more money and whose title had more weight than ours. She wrote Lucien a letter to end it. A goddamned letter. When he came to confront her, to force her to look him in the eye when she said she didn’t love him, she refused to see him.”

Rosalinde drew back, her hand coming to her lips. So much made sense now. “
That
is why you were so loath to let him marry someone you believed only wanted a title.”

“Elise all over again,” Gray said. “Though at least Celia was honest about her desires.”

“Stenfax must have been devastated,” Rosalinde said.

Gray swallowed hard. “He was torn to shreds. The man you see now? The one who does not show emotion? He didn’t exist before that summer when Elise threw him over. He loved her with all he was, and she destroyed him.” He shifted, and for a moment pure pain was reflected in his face, his eyes, his entire being. “It got so bad that one night after too many drinks at Folworth’s, he climbed up on Folly’s terrace edge and declared he would throw himself to his death.”

Rosalinde let out a pained sound. “Oh, Gray!”

“It took Folly, Marina and me two hours to talk him down.” Gray clenched his fist. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love try to end himself in front of you?”

“No,” Rosalinde said, swiping at a tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “I can hardly imagine how shattering that must have been for you.”

“Shattering,” he repeated, meeting her stare. “That was the word for it. I had long watched Felicity suffer cruelly at the hands of her husband without any way to help her, and now I nearly lost my brother. Both because of their choices in love. I vowed I would never allow them to make those kinds of mistakes again. That I would protect them.”

Rosalinde nodded. “I can understand why you would make that vow, Gray. But what I don’t understand is how this has
anything
to do with your changing your mind about Celia and Stenfax marrying.”

Gray was silent for a long moment. “Elise’s husband is dead,” he all but whispered, as if he said it too loudly it would be heard by more than just her.

Rosalinde’s eyes went wide. “The Duke of Kirkford?”

He jerked his head once. “Very few know because according to Folly and Marina, there is some scandal the family is keeping quiet. It will come out soon enough, though. And if my brother is unmarried when he hears the news, he might—”

He cut himself off, and the way he flexed his fist spoke of his fears more than any words. Rosalinde covered his tight fingers gently. “You think he might go to Elise.”

“He might,” Gray admitted in a broken tone. “And if he does, this time I fear there is nothing I could do to protect him from the damage she would cause.”

“But if he is married to Celia…” Rosalinde said.

“He would be true. I
know
him. He might pine for Elise, he might regret that he wasn’t free, but Lucien would never break his vows to his wife. He would be safe.”

“Just loveless,” Rosalinde reminded him.

“Love has not treated him kindly in the past,” Gray said. “Perhaps it is better to leave it be.”

“And you get to decide that?” Rosalinde asked.

He pushed to his feet and walked away. “You think I haven’t punished myself for wanting to control his future? I have. But I have looked at all alternatives. I could tell him what I know about your family and possibly end this wedding—”

Rosalinde got to her feet now, his words ringing in her ears. “What?”

He stopped and looked at her. His cheeks were pale, as if he hadn’t meant to say those words. But he’d been so wrapped up in his emotional response he hadn’t been more prudent.

“What do you know?” Rosalinde burst out, moving on him.

His gaze shifted to the table across the room, and she followed it. There was a stack of papers there. She faced him again.

“You investigated us?” she asked, hardly able to raise her voice high enough to carry with all the pain blooming in her chest like a poisonous flower.

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Rosalinde. I felt I had no choice. I had to pursue every avenue to protect my brother.”

“It sounds as if you found something out. What did you learn?” she asked, breathless.

There was only one secret she knew for certain her family carried. If Gray had uncovered the truth about her father’s identity, then she and Celia didn’t have to live under their grandfather’s thumb as prisoners of his whims.

“You might not want to know.”

“Did you find out about my father?” she asked, forcing herself to keep her gaze even when she wanted to grab Gray, when she wanted to scream and plead, when she wanted to make him understand just how important the truth was.

His brow wrinkled and he took a step back. “You know?”

The world began to spin and she grasped the edge of the bed to stay upright. “Do you know who he is?”

“I—”

“His name!” she cried out. “Please?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving toward her, holding her up by the hands he cupped at her elbows. “I’m sorry,
that
I don’t know.”

She tipped her head back in pain, in disappointment. He drew her closer, holding her. Not speaking, not demanding, just holding her.

“We were always told the same thing the world believed,” Rosalinde said against his chest. “That my mother had married someone of appropriate rank and that they had tragically died together, leaving my grandfather to care for us. But after I married Martin, my grandfather revealed the truth to Celia in a rage. He told her that our father is alive.”

“Alive?” Gray repeated, and there was shock to his tone.

“Yes,” she said, drawing back to look up at him. “Isn’t that what you determined in your research?”

He shook his head. “No, not that. Are you telling me your father lives and that Fitzgilbert…”

“Took us away from him after my mother’s death,” she said. “And he won’t tell us the truth about his identity, perhaps even his location, unless…”

“Unless?” Gray encouraged her softly.

She forced herself to look at him at last, knowing her cheeks were tear-streaked, knowing she was handing him the keys to her pain and trusting he wouldn’t use them.

“Unless Celia marries a man with a title. To make up for the shame brought upon his name by my mother when she married a man who was obviously beneath her. To make up for the shame brought by me when I married the same. He
forced
Celia into a corner. Lose any chance of finding the man who fathered us, or marry a man she does not love.”

Gray shook his head. “And now your motives are as clear as mine. You and your sister needed Celia to marry a title for more than mere mercenary reasons. In fact, it sounds to be as noble a cause as my own desire to protect Lucien.”

She blinked at tears. At last they understood each other. And yet they were still on opposite sides. “Here we are, brought together by the strangest of circumstances, the deepest of betrayals and lies.”

Gray drew back. “But wait, then why do you suddenly want Celia to break her engagement? You will not only be punished by your grandfather, but he may never tell you the truth about your father.”

“Because my sister’s happiness today is worth more than the vague promise of a man who does not give a damn about us,” Rosalinde said, lifting her chin in defiance. “Celia could wed and our grandfather could just as easily decide to hold the information hostage for some other reason. Until I marry or until there is an heir or until Stenfax allows my grandfather entry into some club. It might never end, and then Celia would have sacrificed herself for nothing. I would never forgive myself if she did that.”