It Happened One Christmas (23 page)

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Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley

BOOK: It Happened One Christmas
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“Neither of us expected any of this to happen,” Quinton confessed, his voice weary. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “It was a series of coincidental meetings that led us to be together. We met quite accidentally two weeks ago and again while we were in Brighton. It kills me to think her reputation could be tarnished in any way because of me.”
“Well, we know how you feel, but what about Lisette?” Eddington asked. “Does she have feelings for you?”
“I don't know.” Quinton paused, recalling her sweet words that night in his carriage. There was a look in her green eyes that told him all he needed to know. “Yes,” he admitted with some reluctance. “I think she might.”
“Jesus,” Jeffrey muttered, shaking his head. He sat down in his chair, a grim expression on his face. “What are you going to do?”
“You can't call off the wedding to Emmeline now!” John cried out in dismay.
“You honestly think I don't know that?” Quinton said quietly. “You don't think I've lain awake every night since I met Lisette wondering what in the hell I'm going to do? You don't think I haven't tried to stay away from her or that I haven't tried to talk myself out of loving her? Knowing she is promised to another man? Or that I'm betrothed to another woman? I don't love Emmeline and I never have, but how in God's name do I cancel a wedding to the only daughter of the Duke of Wentworth?”
“You can't,” John stated with matter-of-fact calmness.
“The scandal would destroy everything.”
His brother was right. The scandal would destroy everything Quinton wanted.
And everything he loved.
24
Brought Tidings of the Same
Wednesday, December 17, 1873
 
“Lisette! Such a surprise to see you, my dear!” Henry exclaimed, looking up from his cluttered desk when Lisette entered his small and cramped office, his name inscribed on a neat sign that hung on the main door.
The busy young clerk out front had let her in with a look of curiosity. She had been to Henry's law office only a few times before, but she had waited impatiently for him to come back from his business trip and could wait no longer.
“What brings you here today?” Henry asked, looking back down and shuffling papers with the ledger spread out before him.
She stood in front of him, nervous but determined. “I was hoping I could have a minute or two to talk to you, Henry.”
He avoided her gaze, intent on the papers before him. “Now? I've only just returned from Portsmouth and have stacks of mail and papers to attend to. Perhaps we could talk tomorrow when I am sure to be less busy?”
She stared at the man she was supposed to marry. His sandy-colored beard was neatly trimmed and hair immaculately combed. He had a kind face, honest and open, which was now distracted, his brows furrowed. His head was bent over a thick ledger, his expression intent.
Lisette began, “I haven't seen you since our engagement party last week, and I really would like to talk to you about something important—”
“You are upset about the business with the ring, aren't you?” he interrupted, glancing up briefly from his ledger. “Yes, I know I disappointed you, and I am very sorry about the other day, but the matter could not be helped. We shall go first thing tomorrow morning to the jeweler, I promise.”
“I don't wish to go to the jeweler tomorrow morning. Henry, I—”
“Then we shall go tomorrow afternoon.” He picked up his pen and began to write in the ledger, while still talking to her. “You deserve to have a ring that fits you properly. I am sorry I made you wait so long before I gave you—”
“Henry!” she exclaimed impatiently, causing him to look up at her in astonishment. “I am not here to discuss our engagement ring. I am here to tell you that . . .”
Lisette paused, now that she'd finally captured his attention and he was staring at her. She slowly sank down into the chair across from his oak desk. She had not wanted to discuss this at his place of business, but he had left her no choice. If she waited any longer, she would be telling him on Christmas. And that was something she did not wish to do.
“You are here to tell me what?” he encouraged her gently, setting down the ink pen and papers he had been holding. “You can tell me anything, you know, although this is really not the best time, my dear.”
“Yes, I realize that, but . . .” There would never be a good time to tell him what she had to say. Lisette swallowed and squeezed her hands together to stop them from shaking. What she had to tell him he would not want to hear. She wanted to throw up. “Henry, I wish to tell you that . . .”
“What is it, Lisette?” He seemed to be a bit irritated with her now.
“Well, I . . . we . . . It's about our engagement.”
His sandy eyebrows rose in surprise. “What about it?”
“That is . . . I . . . I wish to break our engagement.” There. She had finally said it out loud. To Henry. Her hands stopped trembling immediately, and she felt an enormous sense of relief.
Henry stared at her uncomprehendingly. “You what? I'm afraid I don't understand.”
Dear God in heaven. He was going to make her repeat it. She took a deep breath before beginning again, feeling a little stronger this time. “Henry, I am so very sorry, but after giving the matter a great deal of thought and consideration, I think it might be best if we don't marry after all.”
He sat back in his chair, stunned by her words. “You cannot mean that!”
Lisette said very low, “I do mean it.”
He cleared his throat. “I must say this comes as quite a shock to me, Lisette.”
“I know it is, believe me, and I am truly very sorry for that.”
“Why?” he mumbled, his expression one of confusion. His gray eyes filled with hurt. “Why now? After all these years together?”
“As I said, after thinking about it a great deal, I just don't think a marriage will work between us. This is not some decision I made on a whim. This has been a very difficult conclusion to come to, Henry, because I do care about you.”
She did care about Henry. But she was finding that she cared about Quinton Roxbury more than she ought to. Lisette did not know how Quinton Roxbury felt about her or what his intentions were toward her. But she knew how she felt about
him
and how Quinton made her feel when she was with him. When she was with him, she rode a wave of emotions that left her breathless. When she was with Quinton, she felt alive in every cell of her body. And she knew without a doubt she could never marry Henry Brooks when she harbored such intense feelings for another man. How could she ever be a good wife when she desired someone other than her husband? Henry was a kind and decent man and he deserved much better than that from her.
“What wouldn't work? What has changed in the last week?” He seemed almost frantic. For the first time since she'd walked into his office, she felt as if she had captured his full attention at last. “What has happened to you, Lisette?”
“Henry, I've changed. Somehow something within me has changed. Perhaps I've grown up a little,” she whispered, hoping he would not press her for details. She had no wish to explain what had happened between her and Quinton the last few weeks. “I've discussed it with my family, and I have decided to have a Season after all.”
He laughed in derision and rolled his eyes. “That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! You have no need of a Season. We are getting married in June. You cannot be serious about this, Lisette!”
“I am quite serious, Henry.” She met his eyes directly, without flinching. He blinked.
“Why?” he asked again, full of confusion.
“I don't know that I can explain it all to you adequately.”
“Perhaps you simply need more time to adjust to the idea of marriage.”
Her smile was a bit rueful. “Even you have to admit that we have had more than ample time to become acquainted with each other and know if we would suit. We've had more time together than most, Henry.”
“I don't see what has prompted this sudden change in you, Lisette,” he muttered, growing angry. He suddenly rose to his feet. “I have always treated you well. I have given you no cause to end our engagement.”
“Nor have you given me cause to wish to be your wife,” she said quietly.
The more she had thought about it, the more she had realized it was the truth. Had he simply taken it for granted that she would marry him from the start and therefore made no effort to woo her with romantic gestures? Whenever they had discussed their future together, it was in the most practical terms. There had been no talk of love. No kisses. The most romantic overture he ever expressed was giving her an engagement ring last week and that didn't even fit her. Besides, by then it was already too late.
She had already met Mr. Roxbury.
Perhaps she was making a foolish decision in breaking her engagement to Henry, but in her heart she knew she could do nothing else. She simply could not marry him feeling the way she did about Quinton Roxbury.
Henry slowly sank back into the chair, his face perplexed. “What do you mean by that?”
“You have not behaved in any way to inspire love, Henry.”
“Love? You know I love you!” he cried in outraged protest, his face growing red. “Of course I love you! I've loved you for years!”
“You have never told me.”
“I shouldn't have to tell you!” he objected. “I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't love you.”
“Do you really love me, Henry? In all these years, you have never given me more than a chaste kiss—”
“Because I respect you! I cherish and adore you!” he interrupted. “I've treated you with the utmost care and consideration as a true gentleman should!” He suddenly paused and rose to his feet again, looking at her most suspiciously. He pressed his hands wide against the edge of the desk and leaned across to her. “You've been kissing someone else, haven't you?”
Lisette remained silent, her eyes downcast. She desperately wished that she could deny the truth, but she could not lie to him.
“Who is he?” he ground out through clenched teeth, his gray eyes flashing.
“Does it matter?” Lisette had never seen Henry angry before, and she did not like that she was the cause of such anger. In fact, she was surprised to see such strong emotion in him in the first place.
He stood straight again and crossed his arms across his chest. He began to accuse her as a solicitor. “It has to be someone you met in Brighton. You kissed me that night you returned. You kissed me like a—” He stopped himself and paused, nodding his head. “I thought you behaved strangely the night of our party, but I believed you were just excited and nervous about our wedding. I should have known better, but I never suspected you of something like this, Lisette.” He shook his head in disgust. “It's so unlike you.”
If the floor would open up and swallow her whole, Lisette would gladly have gone. Never had she felt so humiliated.
“Who is he?” Henry demanded to know.
“Please don't do this,” she begged in a whisper.
“Don't you think I have the right to know who my fiancée is leaving me for?”
“I am not leaving you for anyone. It's not what you think, Henry.”
“It's not what I think?” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Did my fiancée just come to my office to end our engagement after three years? Did she just tell me that I don't love her enough to kiss her passionately? That she no longer wishes to be my wife? Did she just reveal that she has been kissing another man? Don't tell me it's not what I think! I know very well what is going on here, Lisette.”
The silence between them was deafening. The comfort and ease they once shared in each other's company had disappeared in an instant. There was nothing more to do. Lisette stood on trembling legs.
“I am sorry, Henry. I do not know what else to say.” Removing a small package from her reticule, she placed it on his desk. “I had embroidered your initials on some linen handkerchiefs as a Christmas gift, but now . . .” Her voice failed her and she turned toward the door.
“Lisette, please.”
She faced him with a heavy heart.
His sad gray eyes pleaded with her. “Will you at least give it . . . give us . . . more time?”
Lisette sighed. “Henry, I have never lied to you and I cannot lie to you now. I have a great affection for you, but I no longer believe a marriage between us will work. And I do not think that more time will change my mind on this point.”
“I think you are wrong and you are acting foolish,” he added. “I think we would have a successful and happy marriage and I have always thought so. It saddens me that you no longer agree with me. However, I will wait for you just the same.”
“Good-bye, Henry,” she said in a soft voice.
“I won't say good-bye, Lisette.”
She slowly shook her head before turning back to the door. As she exited the building, an enormous sense of relief washed over her. As sad as she was for Henry and the end of their plans together, she knew without a doubt that she had made the right decision. Ever since her trip to Brighton, she had struggled with her desire for Quinton and her guilt over kissing him. She could not have married Henry in all honesty while harboring secret feelings for Quinton Roxbury. Her conscience would not allow it.
Perhaps she would never meet another man who made her feel the way Quinton did, but she would not settle for less. She finally understood what her mother and sisters had been trying to tell her. She would not settle.
Quinton Roxbury. She now needed to erase him from her mind. And her heart. For she could never have him.
The Devon House carriage waited for her, but Lisette had no wish to ride. She needed to walk, needed to feel the bracing, cold air on her face. Dismissing the Devon House coachman, she would walk to the bookshop on her own.
With her boots clicking on the cobblestones, she pulled her hood over her head and walked along the busy London streets, dodging the crowds of people hurrying about. The sights and sounds of the city surrounded her. Ringing bells and horses' hooves, vendors calling out their wares, selling baked potatoes, meat pies, roasted chestnuts, and ginger beer from their barrows. Street urchins ran about the wagons, hoping to find something to eat, their dirty faces drawn thin with hunger.

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