The Last Nail in the Coffin
Chapter fourteen
Whatever Christopher had expected to happen, it was definitely not this. One moment, he was leaning down to kiss her, and in the next, Juliet slumped down as her legs gave out and her head rolled back.
Moving quickly, Christopher caught her before she hit the floor of the pavilion and pulled her into his arms, carefully cradling her head against his shoulder.
His breath came fast as he stared down into her face, her eyes closed and a slight flush darkening her cheeks.
“Jules?” he whispered, still unable to believe that she had… fainted.
Never had he known her to be faint-hearted. Although quiet and hesitant, Juliet had always possessed a strong heart. Never had she shied away from anything…not even when it frightened her.
Bowing his head, Christopher closed his eyes as shame washed over him. What had he done? He had tried to force a kiss on her, one she had clearly not wanted, and it had frightened her to such an extent that her body had collapsed.
Perhaps Juliet had been wise to choose Mr. MacKinnear. Perhaps she had seen something in him, Christopher, that he had not even been aware of. At least, married to Mr. MacKinnear, she would be safe, would she not?
Brushing a stray curl from Juliet’s forehead, Christopher gently traced a finger over her eyebrow and then down her temple.
She looked so peaceful, as though she were merely sleeping, the sight of her achingly beautiful.
A deep longing pulsed in his heart, and he wished life had led them down a different path. If only…
Christopher shook his head. There was no point in lamenting what was or what would never be. It was time for him to accept that.
Carefully gathering Juliet into his arms, he slowly pushed to his feet.
Then, he inhaled a deep breath and stepped out of the pavilion.
It was as though each step closer to the house was a step farther away from her.
He knew he needed to bid her farewell. Had she not just asked him to leave? To return to Ireland?
Less than a fortnight had passed since Juliet had come back into his life, and yet nothing felt as it had before.
Christopher had not expected this. He had been certain that seeing her again would bring back old memories, old longings.
Yet what he felt here, now, in this moment was much more than that.
He could not explain it. He could not put into words what she meant to him, what he felt, knowing there would never be a future for the two of them.
As he drew closer to the house, the sound of a myriad voices drifted to his ears, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention to the French doors leading into the drawing room.
Christopher moved closer and saw that, apparently, Juliet’s sisters and their husbands had arrived, no doubt for the autumn ball that was to take place soon.
Christopher had hoped to stay until then.
Now, he was uncertain if that was a good idea.
Perhaps he should simply pack his things and leave.
Abruptly, the double doors opened, and the Whickertons poured out onto the terrace, their eyes wide and full of concern as they saw Juliet cradled in his arms. “What happened?” Lady Whickerton exclaimed as she rushed forward, gently brushing her hands over her daughter’s face. “Is she all right?”
“Did she fall?” Harriet inquired, eyes quickly darting to her husband, who stood behind her shoulder. “She doesn’t look hurt. What happened?”
More questions flew from their lips. Everyone was speaking at once, and Christopher felt his head begin to buzz with the sound. Then a few loud raps on the terrace floor cut off their questions, and all eyes turned to the dowager countess.
“You sound like a beehive,” the old lady remarked as she waved her walking cane dangerously close to those grouped around Christopher and Juliet. “Give the man a moment to catch his breath.” Stern eyes looked around, from one to the next and then the next. “Now, dear boy, tell us what happened?”
Christopher drew in a deep breath, well aware that all eyes were trained on him.
“She…fainted,” he said lamely, equally well aware that one look would suffice for all of them to know that those two words were not the complete story.
Indeed, he saw Troy’s gaze narrow in dark suspicion and Mr. MacKinnear’s do the same.
Only the look in his eyes held neither jealousy nor outrage but confusion and perhaps a hint of amusement.
Stepping forward, Lord Whickerton took his daughter from Christopher’s arms, his wife by his side.
“Take her upstairs,” she spoke softly, her eyes trained upon Juliet’s unconscious face, deep concern in them.
“Have someone bring us a bowl of water and some linens,” she added over her shoulder as she followed her husband back inside.
Instantly, the sisters dashed away, and Christopher knew they would not even dream to think of alerting a maid but instead would see to their sister themselves. It was who they were. Christopher had always liked that about them.
Left behind among the sisters’ husbands, Christopher looked up when Troy stepped toward him, a tense expression upon his face. “In the study,” he hissed under his breath. “Now.” Then he turned on his heel and marched back into the house.
While Harriet’s and Leonora’s husbands, Jack and Drake, regarded Christopher with rather questioning and somewhat disapproving looks, Louisa’s and Christina’s, Phineas and Thorne, appeared more amused than concerned.
Ignoring them all, including Mr. MacKinnear, Christopher stepped into the house and followed in his friend’s wake.
When he reached the end of the corridor, Christopher saw that the door to the study stood open and so he walked inside without bothering to knock.
Troy stood by the window; his hands linked behind his back as he gazed out at the gardens.
The moment Christopher stepped across the threshold, he spoke, his voice vibrating with restrained anger, “I warned you, did I not?” Slowly, he turned around, his gaze hard and accusing.
“What happened? Why did she faint? What did you do?”
Exhaling slowly, Christopher closed his eyes. “I…I overstepped.” He felt his hands ball into fists at the memory of what he had done. “She told me she had…chosen another, and I did not want to hear it so–”
“She did?” Troy stared at him with a deeply confused expression upon his face. He took a step forward, regarding Christopher closely. “Are you saying she is to be…married?” Incredulity rang in his voice.
Gritting his teeth, Christopher nodded.
“Who?”
Christopher swallowed hard, trying his best not to spit the man’s name. “Mr. MacKinnear.”
Troy’s eyes widened. “That…is a surprise.”
Christopher nodded, still reeling from the shock of hearing Juliet speak those words to him.
“She told you that?” Troy inquired, that look of disbelief still in his eyes.
Again, Christopher nodded.
“And she fainted because…?” Troy pressed; brows lifted in warning as he glared at Christopher.
Inhaling deeply, Christopher closed his eyes. “I tried to kiss her.”
“You did what?” Troy snapped, thunderous footsteps carrying him toward Christopher. “Without her consent?”
Despite all the mistakes he had made in his life, Christopher had never felt…
smaller, less worthy to be in this house, among this family…
by Juliet’s side. “There is no excuse,” he mumbled, meeting his friend’s accusing eyes.
“I will apologize to her, and then I shall leave.” He swallowed hard at the thought of leaving these shores, knowing that the next time he returned, Juliet would be married.
For a long moment, Troy simply looked at him, something indecisive in his eyes, as though he did not know whether to agree or rather convince Christopher to stay. “I believe that would be wise.”
Hearing his friend’s words, Christopher hung his head, for they felt like the final nail to his coffin. The last shred of hope that had remained died on the spot, and he knew that there was no turning back.
He had to leave.