Chapter Nineteen
T he days following her falling out with Gabriel, Delia coped the only way she knew how—she buried herself in work. During the day, busyness kept her safe from her emotions, but at night, things were altogether different.
In dark and quiet moments, a sharp and heavy feeling gnawed at her.
She’d lost him, and that loss was like a gash in her gut.
Why did he have to try to change their friendship into something it was never meant to be?
Did he hate her now? How would he react if they ran into each other in town? Pretty unlikely, but still.
Two weeks later, her period arrived on the expected day. Alone in the bathroom of her flat, she fumbled with a box of tampons, tears blurring her vision. It was over. They would never be parents together.
She sat on the rim of her bathtub and gave way to her grief, only biting down on her hand when weeping threatened to turn into wailing.
Where had it all gone wrong? They’d planned it meticulously, and she’d communicated everything clearly and yet.
.. She should have stuck to her original plan to go with a sperm bank.
But Gabriel’s offer had been so enticing—a co-parent with wonderful genes and a kind heart.
What better father for her child could she have wished for?
She had to take a break before she considered an anonymous sperm donor. Thoughts of parenthood had become intrinsically linked with Gabriel, and she needed time to heal, to disentangle.
She tugged tissues from a box and wiped her eyes—no use dwelling on the past. A solution would present itself, eventually. Her body shook with the force of suppressed sobs, and she balled her hands into fists to keep a lid on her emotions.
Get a hold of yourself, Delia. That sentence had been the refrain of her childhood and had become an elemental part of her inner monologue. Caught in the trenches between her warring parents, all expressions of violent emotion had been reserved for the two adults in the home.
Her brother and she were silent veterans of that conflict. They’d emerged scarred but alive, thanks to the support they’d always given to one another.
Tom, of course. She’d forgotten about the experiments she’d promised to do with her niece. The children’s chemistry kit for Rubina had arrived over a week ago, but Delia had never brought it over. She went to the wash basin, splashed cold water on her face, and got ready to go out.
On her way to Tom’s house, she practiced the excuses she would give for her rumpled appearance. Pressure at work? A fight with a friend? That wasn’t too far off the mark.
She needn’t have worried. The minute she entered her brother’s chaotic home, Rubina latched on to her and wouldn’t let go until they’d conducted two spectacular chemistry experiments on the kitchen table while the rest of the family watched them with awe.
Even little Jamie got caught up in the excitement and had to be prevented from taking a bite out of the glittering tin hedgehog.
When both children were safely tucked in and asleep, Delia prepared to leave, aware that Anjali and Tom cherished the few hours of quiet they had together in the evenings.
But before she could put on her jacket, he touched her shoulder to keep her in her seat. “I wasn’t going to say anything, it’s your life and all, but I kind of feel I have to, since you came in here tonight with red-rimmed eyes.”
She shifted in her chair and forced her lips to curve upward. “Tom, don’t worry, I had a silly fight with a friend two weeks ago, and I got a bit emotional earlier thinking about it. That’s all.”
“I know which friend, and his reaction to your fight didn’t look silly to me,” he said.
She gaped at him. “You... You ran into Gabriel after we...?”
“Oh yes, he was weeping in his car. I’ve never seen a man so in bits, to tell you the truth, and since you seem to be unhappy as well, I wonder what the hell you’re doing, Delia.”
“Listen, you two, I’m going to...” Anjali motioned toward the kitchen and left.
He glanced up to smile at his wife, then focused once more on Delia. “I mean, I barely know the guy, but he lost both his parents, and now he’s lost you. It’s all right trying to protect yourself, but it’s not all right to leave carnage in your wake.”
She crossed her arms and leaned away from her brother. “Get off my back. I made it clear from the very start that love wasn’t on the agenda, and he agreed.”
Tom ran a hand over his face and remained silent.
“You know I’m not cut out for a romantic relationship.” Tom and Gabriel ganging up on her—how had that happened?
Tom exhaled a gusty breath. “My God, Delia, you’re more dogmatic than a catholic cardinal.”
“Not everyone is as courageous or as lucky as you and Anjali,” she said. “Most relationships end up in a godawful mess once the initial excitement has worn off.”
He shook his head and fixed his gaze on the table. “You give those two people who raised us an awful lot of power over you. You’re an adult now. At least try to escape the long shadow thrown by our parents’ failed marriage. You can’t always live life with the handbrake on.”
“With the handbrake on?” Her cheeks became heated. “Because I don’t want what society prescribes for a woman? Marriage? Monogamy? Shacking up with a man?” He could be so conservative, it was sickening.
“I’m sure there are people who genuinely don’t want or need a relationship, but you do, sis.” He clasped her wrist. “I know you. You’re just too bloody afraid.”
Delia freed her arm and rose. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m heading home now.”
“Fine.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, apparently happy to drop the subject.
She was relieved too, because she hardly ever fought with Tom, and this day had been awful enough already.
~ * ~
S urely not. This can’t be . Gabriel threw the heavy cream-colored card on the desk before him and buried his head in his hands. Alistair Brady-Greene had invited ‘Lord and Lady Renwood’ to a charity ball at the Renwood Grand Hotel. Black tie, of course.
Gabriel would have to go, there was no doubt about it.
The banker had signed the mortgage papers, but his credit department only released the money bit by bit, in parallel with the progress of the renovation.
Brady-Greene could stop all further payments if he suspected the seventh Earl of Renwood to be a blatant liar.
Gabriel shivered. Wrapping his arms around himself, he paced the room and considered his options. He’d already lost Delia. Was he about to lose his home, together with the family history it embodied?
If he had to sell Renwood Hall now, after all the effort he’d put into saving it, he’d be a giant failure. He would be letting down Liam and Mary as well as Jem and everybody else who’d helped him along the way.
He picked up the phone before his courage deserted him and dialed Delia’s number, half-expecting her not to answer. But she did after the second ring.
“Gabriel.” Her tone was breathy and tender.
He inhaled sharply. “Delia, sorry to contact you like this without warning, but—
“So good to hear from you,” she said.
He squeezed his eyes shut. One sentence from her was enough to set him alight with yearning.
“I...know I have no right to...ask this of you, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to go. But Brady-Greene has invited us to a charity ball—as husband and wife.” There, he’d said it, and now his future was in her hands.
“Absolutely, I’ll come with you,” she rushed out. “I want to support you with this. You know that.”
“Thank you so much. I mean it, Delia.” His voice broke on her name.
Her exhale was shaky. “You’re more than welcome.”
“The silk dress is here for you if you want it.” He didn’t dwell on the fact that he’d held it back out of sentimentality. The other dresses from the collection had been sold long ago.
“Very good.” She gave a faint chuckle. “Glad I don’t have to rush out to buy a ballgown.”
“No need for that. I wouldn’t...ever presume...” He had to end the call before he became incoherent with emotion. “Well, thanks again. I’ll text you the date and time.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Shall we meet at the gatehouse so I can change?”
“Great, yes. Renoir will be ecstatic to have you back.” His casual remark sounded so much like a plea that he winced.
“I suppose I’ll see you then,” she said.
“Yes, and thanks again.” He hung up and pressed the phone to his chest.
In the three weeks following the receipt of the invitation, Renwood Hall kept Gabriel busy with a thousand-and-one tasks. Before he had time to properly contemplate the absurdity of his situation or ponder the emotional impact of seeing Delia again, the day of the charity ball was upon him.
Dressed in a tux and wearing his father’s wedding ring, he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and adjusted his bowtie.
He frowned at his reflection. Who was he but an overdressed earl without money and, more importantly, without a countess.
He was merely pretending to be happily married and in full control of his finances.
Soon, Delia would be there, change into the pomegranate dress and, once more, take on the role of Lady Renwood—for his sake, for the sake of Renwood Hall.
He wasn’t sure how to get through this night, putting on a show for the Brady-Greenes while at the same time trying to protect his heart from Delia.
A gentle knock on the gatehouse door sent a spike of adrenaline through him.
Renoir barked and raced ahead while Gabriel took a few steadying breaths before letting Delia in.
The wolfhound jumped at her, ready to receive some affection, and she crouched to pet him.
When his dog had calmed, Gabriel sent him into the living room and stepped toward the woman who would act his wife for the evening.