Old Friends Reunited
Chapter two
Christopher’s palms were sweating, and his pulse thundered like a stampede charging down a hill.
Of course, the hard ride to Laurelwood Manor could have caused it.
Christopher had been hard pressed for time and feared that he might not arrive to see the youngest Whickerton sister married.
He was uncertain why he had been invited.
What he did know, however, was that one did not disregard an invitation from the dowager countess.
Grandma Edie—as everyone tended to call her—was a force to be reckoned with, and if she called upon one, one was well-advised to answer.
And in a timely fashion.
With a deep sigh, Christopher watched Juliet escort her grandmother out of the entrance hall. A part of him wished to follow. It felt like a tug upon his heart, urging him onward. How long had it been since he had last seen her? A year perhaps?
In truth, he knew the answer. He knew the answer down to the exact day.
He remembered every moment he had spent at Whickerton Grove last year.
Then, too, it had been the dowager countess calling him home, back to England.
She had had his steward forward a letter to him in Ireland, urging him back into her grandson’s life, and Christopher had been glad for it.
Once, he and Troy had been good friends, the best of friends even…
before Christopher had made yet another mistake.
One had cost him Juliet.
The other had cost him Troy.
“Christopher?”
At the sound of his old friend’s voice, Christopher turned around and found Troy standing in an arched doorway, a look of utter surprise upon his face.
“What are you doing here?” Troy inquired; his gaze slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of this unexpected reunion.
Measured steps carried him closer, and his gaze swept over Christopher.
“I assume this is not a coincidence.” The right corner of his mouth quirked slightly, as though he wished to smile, but was not quite certain whether he should.
Christopher did smile, for he was glad to see his friend, to be here, to feel this odd familiarity once again. “I received an invitation,” he explained, stepping toward his friend, “from your grandmother.”
Although Troy was one of the most serious-looking men Christopher had ever known, the hint of a smile touched his mouth as he shook his head. “I suppose I should’ve known.” His gaze narrowed in suspicion. “She did not tell you why, though, did she?”
Christopher chuckled. “Does she ever?”
Troy inhaled a slow breath, his gaze upon Christopher’s.
“Welcome back…old friend.” Although they had seen each other a bit more than a year ago, that visit had felt strained.
They had been unable to return to that old ease that had once existed between them.
Long ago, they had been like brothers, the other’s heart as familiar to them as their own.
They had shared everything, had talked about everything.
In truth, Christopher knew Troy better than he had known his own brother.
Before.
“Thank you,” Christopher replied, uncertain what to say, wishing they could somehow slip back into their old selves. How often had he wished for that to be possible? “It feels good to be back.” He allowed his gaze to sweep over the hall. “Laurelwood Manor is a quaint little estate. Quite charming.”
Troy nodded. “As far as I know, it holds great sentimental value for Harriet’s betrothed. He is a good man, and I am happy for her.”
A good man, Christopher mused, feeling as though that phrase taunted him. Was he a good man?
“Come.” Troy gestured for Christopher to join him as he moved across the hall and then headed toward the door through which Juliet and her grandmother had disappeared.
“Harry and Jack decided to forgo the small chapel and be married in the drawing room. It holds more people, and Harry was quite adamant in the number of guests she wished to see present.” A small smile flickered across his face.
“You might remember how strong-willed she is.”
Smiling, Christopher nodded. “I remember well…and fondly. And her future husband, is he much like her?”
Troy snorted, and Christopher stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his friend.
“I apologize,” Troy said quickly, a look of dismay coming to his eyes at his less than proper reaction.
“In fact, the duke is quite the opposite to our dear Harry. Yet…” Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed.
“Somehow they are perfect for one another.” A touch of sadness rang in Troy’s voice, and Christopher gritted his teeth, knowing full well that he was responsible.
If only…
“Lord Lockhart,” came the dowager’s voice from across the room. “Would you care to join us?”
Troy placed a hand on his friend’s arm and leaned in conspiratorially, reminding Christopher of days long gone.
“See if you can find out why she invited you here.” Something almost youthful twinkled in Troy’s eyes.
“Not that I’m disappointed she did, mind you.
” The ghost of a smile played over his face before he turned…
but then stopped and looked back. “Your sister is not here with you, is she?”
Christopher saw hope and dread war with one another in his friend’s eyes. “She’s not. She is still…mourning her husband.”
A muscle in Troy’s jaw twitched. “Of course,” was all he said before he spun on his heel and walked away.
Clearing his throat, Christopher turned toward the dowager, his eyes immediately moving past her and settling upon Juliet.
She sat beside her grandmother, her head slightly bowed and her hands folded in her lap.
She did not look up, not once, not even to acknowledge his presence, and Christopher felt his heart sink.
What had he expected? After he had left all those years ago.
Without a word.
Without an explanation.
Without even a farewell.
Of course, Juliet had every right to be angry with him, to still fault him for what he had done.
Yet as his gaze swept over her, Christopher could not help but think that she did not look angry.
Nor did she look sad or regretful. Indeed, the look upon her face held nothing but indifference, the expression of a person whose heart had not been touched in any way.
Had he been mistaken? Had he only ever imagined that he was dear to her?
“It is wonderful to be here,” Christopher greeted the dowager with a nod of his head. “I thank you for your kind invitation.” To his surprise, he saw Lady Juliet’s head snap up at his words. Her eyes widened as they flew to her grandmother, her jaw tense and her breath suddenly quickening.
Christopher frowned. Had she not known? Did her reaction speak of nothing but surprise? Or…was it more than that? Christopher knew it was ill-advised, and yet he couldn’t stop the feeling of his heart lightening, hope growing anew. Was it possible that he still held a spot in her heart?
“Come,” the dowager invited him, gesturing toward the empty chair next to Juliet. “Sit with us and tell us of your travels. How did you find the Continent?”
Christopher did as she bid him, but he did not fail to notice the way Juliet tensed as he moved to sit beside her. She kept her gaze lowered; her head slightly turned away as though she expected her grandmother to speak to her at any moment.
Seating himself, Christopher recounted the tales he had recited more than once. Of course, they were falsehoods.
Lies.
Inventions.
After all, he had never gone to the continent.
He had left England, yes, but he had not gone to the continent.
It had simply been a story he had invented because that was precisely what society expected of a young man like him.
One traveled to the continent, did one not? No one had ever questioned his tales.
Slowly, the room began to fill as more and more guests arrived and found their seats.
Wildflowers decorated every available surface, reflecting Harriet’s spirit perfectly, and Christopher wondered about the man she had promised to marry.
In fact, he recalled how adamant she had been in her youth about never accepting the shackles of marriage.
It still made him smile. Always had he admired her free spirit, that dauntless certainty that she was who she ought to be.
As Christopher continued to speak to the dowager of his imagined adventures, places he had never seen nor cared to, he felt acutely aware of the young woman sitting beside him.
Her gaze remained fixed upon her folded hands, the look upon her face distant, as though her mind was somewhere far away.
Yet every so often, a slight shiver seemed to dance down her spine, and Christopher could not help but wonder if it was because of him.
He hoped it was because he felt it as well.
To avoid staring at her, Christopher allowed his gaze to sweep over the other assembled guests.
He saw familiar faces as more and more of Juliet’s sisters arrived.
They walked in arm in arm with their husbands, smiles upon their faces and their eyes aglow with happiness.
Always had they been a joyous family, sharing in each other’s lives in a way Christopher had never known in his own.
He remembered that as a young boy, he had often wished he could be one of them.
One of the Whickertons.
Oddly enough, he could not help but notice that the moment the sisters’ eyes fell on him, a quite unusual expression came to their faces.
All their faces.
Christopher suspected it could be surprise at his unexpected arrival, for it seemed the dowager countess had not informed her family that he would be in attendance.
Although Christopher could not help but wonder why, he had learned long ago that the dowager’s mind could not be understood by mere mortals.
He grinned inwardly.