Chapter Twenty
G abriel mapped the empty space beside him before the sheets had cooled from Delia’s absence. She was gone. Of course she was.
He dressed hurriedly and went out into the park, alone; unable to face the pity he imagined in Renoir’s eyes. Every heartbeat was agony, every thought of her a torment. He raced through the wood like a man pursued by demons.
Screaming his pain into the morning air, he howled at the trees and the meadow. When he reached the copse of silver birches, he broke down among their sleek white stems and wept.
Her first rejection should have been a warning.
He’d seen then how quickly she shut herself off from him when fear overwhelmed her.
And yet he’d gone back for more. The slightest hint of her wanting him had been enough.
Like a fool, he’d dropped his armor and bared his heart again, believing he could make her feel secure enough to trust in their love.
What had been only one more night for her, for him had been everything.
Straightening, he dusted himself off and returned to the Hall. A searing ache cleaved his chest, and his eyes burned from crying. From now on, he needed to keep himself busy to make it through each day. Time would heal him. He had to believe it.
The following weeks were spent in a haze of inner pain and outward activity. He moved through Renwood Hall like a ghost. There was much to do between dealing with his clients’ accounts and getting the Hall ready for rewiring.
He labored side by side with Liam, taciturn and fully aware that the older man worried about him. But Gabriel was unable to address his emotions just yet.
Liam cleared his throat and put down the chisel. He wiped his dusty hands on his trousers and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabe, you’re going to have to talk about what happened with that girl sometime. You’re the closest thing Mary and I have to a son, and we do worry.”
Gabriel pushed his hands into his pockets and faced Liam. “I’m sorry for having been such bad company recently, and you’re right. I shouldn’t bottle up my feelings. It’s just...”
He turned his head to the side hoping Liam wouldn’t notice the pain in his eyes. That was why he hadn’t talked; it was too damn hard to hold it together. He swallowed and struggled to compose himself while Liam waited patiently.
“I...know you predicted it but I,” Gabriel took a deep breath before continuing, “well, I fell in love with Delia, and I was so sure she felt the same way that it felled me when she insisted nothing had changed. She only wants to be friends.”
Liam remained silent but drew him into a hug.
“I’ll get over her, eventually,” Gabriel said, without really believing it. “Work will help.”
Liam gave a dry chuckle and released him. “It sure will. And there’s enough of it.”
Both he and Liam took up their tools and continued hammering channels for the new wiring into the plaster.
With his zeal to get the job done, Gabriel had to remember that Liam was in his late sixties and needed a break every so often.
It was the middle of winter, and most days they finished around five before it got pitch black outside.
Gabriel brushed the dust off his clothes, said goodbye to Liam, then made his way to the gatehouse. Renoir darted out from behind a rosebush and followed him down the darkening road. He stopped to pet the wolfhound. “You miss her too, don’t you?”
Renoir looked up with amber eyes and made a sound that could roughly be interpreted as a mournful wail.
“No use, my friend, she won’t come by anymore.”
Night bled into morning again and again.
Each day was drained of joy but filled with purpose.
The restoration of his ancestral home took all his strength, but in return, it gave him a place in the world.
Liam and he had made great progress. The manor house was now ready for rewiring and the electricians had come in to start their work.
Gabriel inhaled the crisp cold air and took a few steps back to surveil his work.
He’d been painting the tea pavilion into the evening but now it was getting dark.
The building shimmered pale blue in the failing light.
Romantic, that’s what Delia had called it.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from dwelling on the memory.
His bones were weary. He washed his paintbrush in a jar filled with white spirits, closed the tin of paint and went home.
At a forceful knock on wood, Renoir barked, lifted himself off his bed and raced to the door. For a mere moment, Gabriel’s heart soared. Delia had finally changed her mind and...
He rose and chased the childish hope from his mind. With a sigh, he followed his dog, and took him by the collar before opening the door. Disappointment dulled his senses when he came face to face with a familiar woman but not the one he’d been hoping to see.
“Hi, Gabriel.”
Vanessa stood there in the cold and seemed uncertain whether she was welcome to enter the house she’d once lived in. He hadn’t seen her in over two years, and to say he was surprised was an understatement.
She twisted a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. “I know it’s a bit unexpected for me to appear out of the blue, but I wanted to congratulate you.” She pushed the lock of hair behind her ear.
“It’s, ah, good to see you.” He took a step back and motioned for her to come in before releasing Renoir.
The dog preceded them to the living room and settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. Gabriel seated himself in the armchair opposite his former fiancée who, after all that had happened in recent months, seemed very much like a stranger.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks.” She straightened in her chair. “Gabriel, let me be honest. I’m not here to congratulate you. I came to find out whether the rumors are true.”
“I’m not married, if that’s what you mean, but I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself.” His head started pounding, and he massaged his temples in a vain attempt to ease the ache.
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.” Pain churned through his insides. The wound was too fresh, and talking about it amounted to torture.
“I have time,” she said, her voice soft and placating.
He gazed into the fire and collected himself before telling her of his convoluted love affair with Delia that had proven to be entirely one-sided.
“And you’re still heart broken.” Vanessa’s eyes brimmed with compassion.
He swallowed to alleviate the dryness in his throat. “Pretty much.”
“But eventually,” she cupped her knees with her palms, “you will get over her.”
“Yes,” he agreed, because healthy people overcame heart break.
To survive, he’d promised himself he would be among those who moved on rather than spent years pining for the one person who had, in the end, not loved them enough.
“I’ll be here for you, waiting,” Vanessa said quietly, and he raised his head when her meaning became clear.
“But Vanessa, the things you complained about—Renwood Hall being the third person in our relationship—it hasn’t gone away.
If anything, it’d be even more the case now.
I’m mortgaged up to the hilt, and I’ve gambled everything on transforming the Hall into a profitable venue for weddings and other occasions.
I literally have no money, and when I’m not working as an accountant, I’m busy with the renovation of the big house. ”
“I’m different now.” She rose and took his hands in hers. “More cognizant of the burden you’re carrying and appreciative of the fact that your struggle is even harder without your father.” After a pause, she gestured toward the window. “By the way, the manor is looking great with the new roof on.”
He winced with agony when he remembered who had been instrumental in procuring the means for the roof repair. There was a lot Vanessa didn’t know, and so much he needed to forget.
“What, if you don’t mind me asking, has caused this change of heart?” He put up his hand before she was able to reply. “We both chipped away at the foundation of our relationship, and I don’t want to apportion blame. I’m just curious.”
She returned to her seat and focused on her hands folded in her lap.
“I was in a relationship which ended badly.” The firelight gilded her hair and gave her skin a soft glow.
“It made me realize we’d had something precious, something not easily replaced.
” She lifted her head, and her face became serious.
“We were complacent, you and me. We threw away a three-year relationship that had largely been successful because outer pressures and the added strain of organizing a wedding took their toll.”
He walked to the fire and stared into the licking flames.
Heartache seared through him, every day, every hour.
He’d struggled against it, alone, but so far, it had made little difference.
Yet here was Vanessa, offering to help him heal and return to a simpler time when things had been easier and his emotions on an even keel.
He averted his gaze from the blaze. “You know, you could be right.”
Silence settled between them. He was lost in thought, and she was waiting as she said she would.
“There’s another thing... The bank manager, as I said, believes Delia and I are married.
It seems to be important to him that a man in a dicey financial situation has the support of a wife, and Delia played along.
She... The Brady-Greenes love her. It...
I’ll have to invent a credible divorce story before you and I can be seen together in public.
I know it’s messy and complicated and faintly ridiculous, but this is my life now. ”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Vanessa insisted. “You were in a tight spot and did what you had to do. I’m assuming you have to keep up the pretense until the last payment gets through.”
He sighed. “Ideally.”
“Clandestine meetings at the gatehouse it is until then.” She smiled.
He frowned.