Chapter 24
The Swift Hand of Fate
Blanche was very surprised when she was told that her fiancée had called.
She had seen him the other night, when he had joined her and her father for supper.
With no idea of what Tyrell could want, she thanked the butler and went into the salon where he was waiting for her.
He stood, staring into the fire dancing in the hearth, but upon hearing her approach, he turned.
They exchanged greetings. Blanche could see that Tyrell was very grim. “I should like a private word,” he said. “May we sit?”
Blanche nodded, instantly concerned. She sat on a large gold sofa with numerous darker pillows and he took a facing chair. “I do hope your family is well,” she said, having jumped to the conclusion that someone was ill.
Tyrell regarded her carefully. As carefully, she regarded him. He gave no clue as to his thoughts or why he had come “My family is fine, thank you. And your father? He seemed well the other night. Do you still think he is feeling poorly?”
She hesitated. “My father is still having moments of fatigue.” Suddenly she was anxious. “Are you here to ask me to return to Harmon House? Because I do feel strongly that I must stay here and attend him.”
“No, Blanche, I did not come here to ask you to return to my home.” He glanced away, seeming uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Blanche thought of his ex-mistress, Elizabeth Fitzgerald.
She had been thinking quite a bit about her lately.
She had been so pleasant, so proper and so well bred.
Blanche had expected a flamboyant courtesan, but Miss Fitzgerald had not been a raving beauty and she had been kind.
Her candor had also been endearing. Had Tyrell learned of her very improper call upon his ex-mistress?
“Blanche, there is something I must say, no matter how awkward. I do not wish to distress you, but I am afraid I shall.”
She fingered the tuft on a pillow. “Is this about Miss Fitzgerald?”
He was surprised “So you have heard about her?”
She nodded, studying him closely. He remained impossible to read. “Father told me of your…er…past relationship.” She smiled reassuringly at him. “It’s all right, Tyrell, I am not hurt or horrified. I know the affair occurred last summer, before we had been engaged for very long.”
“Have you never borne anyone any malice at all?”
“It is not my nature,” she said truthfully, wishing she could, just once, care enough to feel hateful or unkind toward someone. She sighed. “I never get angry.”
He stood. “I have little doubt that you will become quite angry with me now. Blanche, you are an exemplary lady. You would be a great countess and a credit as my wife. I have given this a great deal of thought. I have no wish to hurt you, but I see no way to avoid it. I cannot marry you.”
Relief overcame her and she realized she was standing. “You cannot?” she managed to say, stunned that he should wish to end things, just as she did.
He gravely shook his head “Again, I am so sorry. There is nothing you have done to cause this. I gave my heart to someone else before we ever met. I have decided to take her as my wife, in spite of the fortune I am losing. I am prepared to exercise a great deal of economy now to secure the future of Adare, assuming I am not disowned.”
“You must love Miss Fitzgerald very much!” Blanche exclaimed, absolutely fascinated. She knew he would be disinherited for this great act of his. “You choose love over duty!”
“I do,” he said grimly. “Are my feelings so terribly obvious?”
“There is nothing obvious about you,” Blanche said.
What was it like, to love that way, she wondered.
“I met Miss Fitzgerald the other day, Tyrell,” she said.
“She is an extraordinarily kind, selfless woman. I had expected a great beauty, but she is rather plain. I find it obvious that your affair was motivated by true love and not something sordid or base. And, Tyrell, she is obviously so deeply in love with you.”
She finally saw an emotion she could read in his eyes. It was hope. “She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to.” Blanche thought of what her father had done.
It seemed terribly important to let Tyrell know.
“Tyrell, Father told me that he deliberately interfered in your relationship with Miss Fitzgerald. Apparently he encouraged her to leave you. He also said she had written you a love letter before she left. He admitted that he destroyed it. He was afraid of what you might do if you read it.”
He stared at her for a long moment, both angry and surprised. “Thank you for telling me that,” he finally said. Then he softened. “And you, Blanche? How are you?”
“I am fine.”
He was thoughtful as he studied her. “Any other woman would be in hysterics by now. And while I know your nature might preclude that, you do not seem distressed at all.”
“I am not upset that you wish to marry someone else and that I shall stay here at Harrington Hall. In fact, I am relieved.”
He seemed astonished. “I simply cannot understand you!”
Suddenly she realized what he might think. “I do not mean to insult you, Tyrell! Just as you said that this is not my fault, my relief is not due to anything you have done, either.”
“You are in love with someone else.”
Her relief vanished and in its place was despair. She turned away. “No, I am afraid not.”
Tyrell came to stand behind her then, and he laid one large hand on her arm.
In the four months she had known him, he never touched her, not even to walk her out of a room, except for those two times when he had kissed her, leaving her cold and unmoved.
Not liking his touch, she slipped free and turned to him. He was studying her.
“You are being very generous with me. I should like to return the favor, if ever the occasion should present itself. Why are you distraught now, when my ending our engagement did not move you at all?”
Blanche glanced away. She felt herself smile sadly. “I am not capable of love, Tyrell. Haven’t you guessed that?”
“Everyone is capable of love.”
She felt moisture in her eyes. “I am happy, but never overjoyed. I am sad, but never grief-stricken. Something is wrong with my heart—it beats, but refuses to entertain me with more than the mere shadow of emotion.”
He was stunned. “I am certain, one day, the right man will awaken you.”
“It has been this way almost my entire life,” she said.
She closed her eyes. The riot. There were vague, violent, unfocused images and unspeakable acts dancing in the dark shadows of her mind, and she forced them back to wherever it was that they lived.
When the monsters had retreated into the cobwebs of lost memory, she opened her eyes and looked at Tyrell.
“How does it feel, Tyrell? How does it feel to be in love?”
“It is a feeling of wonder,” he said slowly, grasping for the right words. “Of wonder and amazement, that there could be so much joy and such a deep connection between two people. It is a feeling, of great love and devotion, and of utter completion.”
She smiled. “I am very happy for you, for you both.”
“And I am very grateful to you. Blanche, I meant what I said. If you ever need me, I will be there for you, no matter how great or small your request. I am in your debt.”
She nodded. “That is kind of you.”
“I will speak with my father now, and later, with yours.”
“You do not have to worry about Father. He will be extremely angry at first, but he has never forced me to do anything against my will. If you wish, I will actually speak to him first.”
“Absolutely not. It is my duty to take care of this and I shall.”
Blanche inclined her head. She understood.
Tyrell had requested an audience with his father. The earl was at his desk in the library, immersed in the London Times, a copy of the Dublin Times beside that. Tyrell hesitated upon entering the room.
He remained surprised by Blanche’s cooperation, but she was now the least of his worries.
He had some doubt about his ability to convince Elizabeth to marry him, after all they had been through, but he had never been more determined.
He would woo her, no matter how long it took.
Now, however, he had a different battle to wage.
He felt very certain that he was about to be disowned.
Adare meant everything to him—yet Elizabeth meant more.
As a last resort, he would give up his inheritance in order to have Elizabeth.
As Blanche had said, he was choosing love.
But he was also prepared to fight. He wanted Elizabeth, but he did not want to lose Adare.
He was prepared to do battle with his father now to ensure that he had both.
He did not think to attain any victory that day—in fact, he was certain it might take some months.
He would surely have to enlist the aid of the countess and all of his brothers to persuade the earl to his cause.
Oddly, there was no guilt.
Now that he had made up his mind to follow his heart, there was only relief and determination. He had never known more determination, in fact. He was aware that the battle was an uphill one, but then, weren’t life’s greatest battles the most difficult and treacherous ones?
If he somehow succeeded, there was the future to think of. But he had given the family finances a great deal of thought, and while it might not be easy, he had more than one economic plan.
“Tyrell?”
Tyrell turned at the sound of his father’s voice. From across the room, their gazes met and locked. Slowly, as if sensing the battle to come, the earl stood. “You asked to see me?” he said.
“Yes.” Tyrell walked over to the desk, which remained between them now. “How have you managed, all of these years, as the earl of Adare?” he asked quietly. It was a question he had wanted to ask for years.