His Greatest Fear
Chapter eighteen
After procuring passage from the Port of Liverpool to Ireland, Christopher sought the nearest inn and asked for a room.
The ship would not leave for another two days, and he was weary from a night spent on the road.
His limbs ached, and his heart felt as though it might break out of his chest at any moment.
He had ridden like a madman, determined to leave Whickerton Grove well behind him.
The sooner the better. An image of Juliet with Mr. MacKinnear haunting him like nothing ever had.
Still, at the same time, he had felt something tugging him back, like an invisible bond that urged him to turn around.
Now, after a hearty meal, Christopher felt exhausted. Lead lingered in his limbs, and his eyes closed repeatedly. Still, his heart continued to ache, torn in two different directions. Half of it belonged in Ireland while the other wished it could remain in Whickerton Grove forever.
Yet the choice was not his, was it? Juliet had made hers, effectively taking it out of his hands.
Still, a part of Christopher knew that it was not that simple.
He could not place all responsibility on her.
She had chosen, yes, but he had failed to make his intentions known.
If he had told her the truth, not only about his feelings but also about his past, would she have turned from him the way his mother had? Or…?
Rolling over in his bed, Christopher pummeled his pillow with tired fists. He knew he was running away rather than confronting what could be, for the simple truth was that he was afraid.
Afraid to be disappointed yet again.
Afraid to be a disappointment yet again.
Afraid to see his memory of Juliet tainted.
It was all he had left. He could not risk losing it. He could not. And yet…
Surging out of bed, Christopher began to pace, his mind replaying every word they had spoken over the course of the last few weeks.
It had felt wonderful to be around Juliet again.
He had felt like…himself again. He had not simply missed her, but he had also missed the man he was with her by his side.
Years ago, they had told each other everything, and now?
Now, he was keeping essential parts of his life from her.
After leaving Juliet’s bedchamber, Christopher had felt restless.
A part of him had wanted to depart immediately while another argued that he ought to wait so he could bid everyone farewell.
Once again, he had found his way downstairs into the drawing room.
And then, when the clock had struck one in the morning, hobbled footsteps had echoed to his ears from down the hall.
Christopher had paused, torn from his thoughts, and then turned to see the dowager countess step over the threshold, her pale eyes coming to land upon him without even the slightest hint of surprise, as though she had expected to find him there. “Restless, my boy?”
Christopher nodded. “I…I need to return home,” he said, reminding himself that Juliet was the only one who knew of Ireland. “My sister needs me now.”
Seating herself near the dying embers of the fire, the dowager had nodded. Still, the look on her face made him think she did not quite believe him. “Have you met little Sam?” she asked abruptly, her gaze moving to him.
Christopher frowned, confused by her question.
Indeed, he had expected her to comment upon his desolate state or inquire as to its origin.
“I have,” he replied slowly, unable to understand her reasons for asking; and he was certain she had her reasons.
After all, Grandma Edie never did anything without an agenda, did she?
Or rarely.
The old woman sighed, a warm smile upon her face as she leaned back into the chair. “She is a darling girl.” She set aside her walking stick before her gaze rose to meet his. “My first great-grandchild!”
“You have my congratulations,” Christopher replied, still at odds with this strange conversation.
“We are blessed to have her in our lives,” the dowager continued, her voice calm and relaxed as though she did not have a care in the world.
“Christina could not possibly love her more if the girl were her own flesh and blood.” She chuckled.
“Yet, I admit, she was a bit…overwhelmed at first, but that had more to do with the fact that her husband had failed to inform her of the child before they were married.” The moment the last word left her lips, her gaze moved to settle upon his in a way that sent an icy chill down Christopher’s back.
He blinked, completely taken aback, when understanding finally dawned. “You…know?” he gasped, feeling the blood drain from his face as he stared at the dowager. Why he was surprised that she knew his secret he could not say? After all, Grandma Edie always knew.
A warm smile came over the dowager’s face. “It is written all over your face, dear boy. You’re torn.” She reached for her walking cane and then slowly pushed to her feet. “And you’re afraid.”
Christopher swallowed as the dowager moved toward him.
She was not his grandmother, and yet it felt as though she was.
Always had he called her Grandma Edie, and always had she called him dear boy.
She had seen him grow up, and he had always heeded her counsel.
“What shall I do?” Christopher asked, wishing she would simply tell him and take this decision out of his hands.
Placing a weathered hand upon his arm, Grandma Edie smiled at him. “Speak to her,” she urged gently. “Tell her how you feel. You never have, have you?”
Christopher hung his head. “What good will it do now? She has made her choice.”
The hint of a frown came to the dowager’s face. “She has?”
Christopher nodded, gritting his teeth against another wave of jealousy that rolled through him. “She is to marry…Mr. MacKinnear.”
For a brief moment, the dowager’s frown deepened ever so slightly before it just as quickly disappeared, as though it had never been.
“She is betrothed,” Christopher said with vehemence, his eyes fixed upon the dowager, wishing she would contradict him.
When her eyes glanced at him once more, Grandma Edie simply shrugged. “Perhaps. But she’s not married yet, is she?”
Running his hands through his hair, Christopher turned away, his gaze directed out the window into the dark of night.
Behind him, he heard Grandma Edie shuffling upon her feet as she retreated to the door, the soft tap of her walking stick upon the parquet echoing to his ears.
Then she paused, and he heard her sigh deeply.
“We all make mistakes. We all have moments of weakness. However, nothing is harder to forgive than lies.” Again, she sighed before Christopher heard her walk away down the hall.
Truer words had never been spoken. Christopher had been dishonest. He had told lies…or at least half-truths, and he had omitted the most important part of his life when he had told Juliet about his home in Ireland.
Now, however, standing at the inn’s window and looking down at the darkened street, Christopher paused.
Yes, he had left Whickerton Grove the night before—surprised to stumble upon Troy on his way out—because of what Grandma Edie had said.
He had lied and lies could not be forgiven.
Yet, standing here now and hearing her words echo in his mind anew, Christopher wondered if perhaps the dowager had meant to tell him something entirely different.
His gaze moved down the street and toward the harbor.
Indeed, if he left now, he would remain a liar.
He would waste his chance to speak the truth and ask for forgiveness.
Yes, Juliet might not grant it, but would that truly be worse than this?
Then leaving without a word of explanation?
Would he not forever wonder what she would have said if only he had told her?
Would this not torment him until the end of his days?
Christopher hung his head, realizing rather belatedly that he could not leave like this. Juliet needed to know the truth—even if it came far too late. She needed to know why he had left all those years ago, and she needed to know how he felt about her.
After dressing quickly, Christopher gathered his belongings and then rushed down to the stables. He saddled his horse and was on the road back toward Whickerton Grove before he could think better of it.
Doubts still remained. That, however, was nothing unusual.
Christopher’s life had always been full of doubts, beginning in his early childhood.
Even then, he had doubted his parents’ love for him.
He had been aware that they did not look at him with the same pride and joy that had shone in their eyes whenever they had gazed upon his brother and sister.
And these doubts had continued throughout his life. This early experience had taught Christopher to be wary, to doubt affection and disregard alike. What was true? And what was not? He had come to doubt everything and everyone…except for Juliet.
Always had she had a way about her that had called to him.
Those soft green eyes shining with utter honesty, as though she had never even heard of the existence of lies, as though she did not even know their meaning.
Was that why he had been so quick to believe her when she had told him of her betrothal?
Remembering the moment now, Christopher realized she had been unable to hold his gaze. Perhaps it had been simply because she had not wished to hurt him. It was an explanation, certainly. But was it the correct one?
Again, doubts coursed through his mind, and Christopher gritted his teeth as he urged his mount onward. The sun was beginning to rise upon the horizon, and no matter how deeply unsettled he felt by the doubts that still lived in his heart, he could not turn back now.
He had run away before, and it had broken his heart. He had been a fool for most of his life, and it had brought him regret above all.
No, he would not run again and he would not be a fool any longer. He would face his greatest fear and—if need be—learn to live with the consequences.