Chapter 7 #2
“Tell him why I refused you,” she snapped, determined to absolve Theo of any blame. Fury tightened his mouth into a thin line at her order.
“I have no intention of explaining the circumstances of that day in the croft to him or anyone else,” Theo growled with a savagery that caught her by surprise.
Genevieve stiffened at the icy humiliation threading through his words.
She’d never considered Theo might find her refusal to marry him an insult, even humiliating.
The thought pained her. She’d never meant to bruise his pride with her rejection of his offer.
Remorse spiraled through her as she stared at him across the small space separating them.
Leaning forward, she gently touched the back of Theo’s hand.
“I’ll not allow you to be blamed for something you didn’t do, Theo.”
“I’m quite capable of defending myself, Genevieve,” Theo said in a tight voice. “But you and I know that I’m determined to marry you, regardless of your resistance to the idea. So, as far as I’m concerned, your brother can believe whatever the hell he likes.”
The resolute note in his words made Genevieve sink back into the seat cushions.
Deep inside, she was forced to acknowledge that Theo might actually succeed in wearing her down when it came to surrendering and agreeing to become his viscountess.
She swallowed hard as they stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Theo heaved a rough breath.
“His strength is weakening. Is there anything you wish to say to him, other than any commentary on that day at the croft?” Theo’s voice was devoid of emotion, and his features unreadable as she met his gaze.
Feeling defeated and drained, Genevieve closed her eyes for a moment, then turned her head to the empty place beside her.
Inhaling a deep breath, she struggled to find her voice.
“Theo and I miss you terribly, Peter, but I’ll try harder to be a phoenix whenever I fail at something or feel lost.” As her voice died in her throat, something cold and icy gripped her hand and squeezed it.
She started violently as she stared down at her cold hand, her brother’s name a soft whisper on her lips. “Peter.”
The single word was accompanied by a small white cloud as the warmth of her breath met the chilly air surrounding her. Suddenly the icy grip vanished as if it had never been there are all.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Genevieve’s gaze met Theo’s, and when he answered her question with a nod, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. Pushing herself deep into the cushions in the corner of the carriage, she turned her face away from him.
Eyes closed, she fought to keep the tears from falling.
For the first time since her brother’s death, she realized just how lost she was.
It wasn’t simply that Peter was no longer with them.
Her relationship with Theo had changed things.
Those few moments of bliss in the croft with him had thrown her life into a tailspin.
For the first time since her innocence was taken, she saw the future that might have been if Ruckley hadn’t destroyed her life.
Now she no longer knew which way to turn.
If Peter were still alive, he would have been a sounding board for her to work her way toward a plan on how to deal with her current situation.
But he wasn’t here, and she had no one to turn to.
Theo had asked her to let him be the anchor in her life that Peter had been, but that was impossible.
How could she ask for his guidance when she was so conflicted and bewildered by the emotions the man aroused in her?
Genevieve had always believed herself self-reliant and confident in her ability to not let the past weigh her down.
That confidence had vanished the night Peter had been murdered.
For the first time, she realized how much she’d relied on her brother to advise and guide her.
She’d not felt this vulnerable and helpless since Ruckley had destroyed her life.
It was as if she were adrift at sea without hope of rescue, and she no longer had the emotional strength to see a path forward.
Despite having a family who loved her deeply, she’d never felt so alone in her life.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she bit back a sob.
She couldn’t let Theo or anyone see how fragile she was at the moment.
Outside the window, she recognized the familiar row of houses and realized they were almost home. Relief spiraled through her. In just a few minutes she would be in the sanctuary of her room, and could sob until she had no more tears to shed.
The moment the carriage came to a halt, she bolted from the vehicle before Theo had a chance to exit and help her down onto the pavement. She stumbled as her feet hit the ground, while behind her Theo uttered a harsh sound of irritation. Regaining her footing, she whirled around to face him.
“There’s no need for you to escort me to the door. Thank you for giving me a small amount of peace by trying to help me speak with Peter. I’m sorry for any discomfort you experience in doing so.”
Not waiting for him to reply, Genevieve spun around and ran up the steps, then rushed into the house.
As the door closed behind her, the tears she’d been holding at bay began to slide down her cheeks.
The muted sound of conversation echoed out of the parlor, and the fear of being questioned drove her to race up the stairs to her room.
As Genevieve reached the landing, she heard her mother’s voice.
Tears coursing down her cheeks, she pretended not to hear her mother call out her name.
Instead, she’d hurried down the hall to her room.
Closing the door behind her, she fell onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow to sob harder than she ever had in her life.
§ § §
Sunshine filtered its way into the room as Genevieve stirred in bed.
Blinking against the bright light, she rubbed her hand across her forehead.
She had a vague memory of undressing and crawling into bed before falling into a fitful sleep.
Genevieve closed her eyes for a moment before she threw off the bedcovers and crossed the room to stare at her reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes were puffy from crying, and she winced at the sight.
Everyone was bound to notice, unless she remained in her room for a couple of hours with cold washcloths pressed against her eyes.
Quickly dipping a washcloth into the frigid water in the bowl of her wash stand, she wrung the water out of the cloth and returned to bed, laying the cloth over her closed eyelids.
She must have dozed off when she jerked awake to the soft knock on her bedroom door. Before she could reply, her mother opened the door to poke her head inside.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Rhea Rockwood said with a warm smile. “I thought I’d check on you since you missed breakfast.”
“I was tired from all the dancing last night,” she murmured, hoping her mother would believe her and miss her haggard look.
Genevieve’s hopes were dashed as the woman who’d raised her closed the bedroom door behind her and crossed the floor to sink down onto the mattress. Taking her hand, Rhea Rockwood squeezed it gently.
“I think it’s a bit more than your being tired.
You cried yourself to sleep last night.” Wincing at her mother’s statement, Genevieve closed her eyes to avoid the intent gaze pinned on her.
When she didn’t answer, Rhea Rockwood sighed.
“I’d asked if it were about Peter, but I think it’s something else. ”
“Something else?” Genevieve queried as her eyes flew open to stare at her mother’s curious expression, hoping she’d injected a solid note of puzzlement into her voice while schooling her features into a look of confusion.
“I think you quarreled with Theo last night.” At her mother’s observation, Genevieve closed her eyes and laid the cool washcloth over her eyes again.
“He was being arrogant and autocratic. He was also rude to Count Ansbach at the ball. He seems to have taken a dislike to the count, and when the man asked to call on me, Theo told him I had appointments the remainder of the week.”
“I see.” The amusement she heard in her mother’s response made Genevieve whip the cloth off her eyes.
“Are you implying something, Mother?”
“No, I am simply making an observation. However, ever since we returned to London from Callendar Abbey, you and Theo seem to be butting heads more than usual.”
“More than usual? The man barely noticed I was alive before that.”
“That’s not true,” Rhea said with a smile. “You might not have realized it, but Theo rarely takes his eyes off you. He’s tried to hide it, but we’ve all seen it whenever his guard slips.”
Astonished, Genevieve stared at her mother in disbelief, and Rhea Rockwood laughed softly. Frowning at her mother’s amusement, she narrowed her gaze at the older woman.
“I believe you’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not the only one who’s seen the way he looks at you.” At her mother’s words, Genevieve’s cheeks grew warm.
“You must be mistaken. Theo sees me as a thorn in his side.”
“But a beautiful rose always has a thorn that carries a sharp prick,” Rhea said with a soft laugh. “Even when you were a young girl, Theo seemed to waver between wanting to chastise you or comfort you whenever you scraped an elbow or knee.”
Flabbergasted, Genevieve’s eyes widened, then narrowed at her mother. Shaking her head, she drew in a quick breath.
“Now I know you’re mistaken. Theo refused to let me join him and Peter whenever they went exploring at Callendar Abbey. When he went off to Eton and came home for the holidays, he ignored me or berated me for being reckless.”
“I’ve a feeling that was more about keeping his feelings hidden. Although he failed more often than he succeeded.”