Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

" M ay I ask why you feel as if every responsibility is yours to bear?" Caroline asked. "You did not need to be a parent to your siblings. You did not need to marry me. You do not need to exhaust yourself, working on securing a legacy for your siblings. What makes you feel as if you have to… save everyone?"

Max's hands curled into fists. "If not me, who else?" He shook his head slowly. "Has Anna ever spoken to you of our parents?"

"Not really," Caroline admitted.

"Then, she would not have told you that every time I returned from Eton, she would stick by my side for days, telling me everything that had happened while I was away. As if she had been holding it all in for all that time and was grateful to finally have a channel to pour it all into," he said quietly. "She does not remember things the way that I do."

Caroline once again considered getting up from the window seat. "What do you mean?"

"She might not realize it, but there is a reason she has always relied so heavily and consistently on her books," Max replied. "They were her escape. They were filled with characters that became somewhat real to her—characters that she could talk to when she was otherwise ignored. Dickie, at least, had Eton too. Anna had no one, though she sees the past through a rosier lens."

"I… still do not understand." Caroline finally got up, approaching her husband with caution. Every muscle in his body seemed to have seized, his stature rigid.

"My mother and father did have a rare sort of love," he explained, walking over to the opposite side of the belvedere as if he knew she wanted to touch him but could not permit it. "But there is a detriment in a love like theirs. It was love and it was obsession. When they were together, no one else existed, and they were rarely apart. It made them neglectful."

"But you said your mother would dance with you," Caroline said, her heart beating faster.

Max nodded. "I cherished those moments because of their rarity. It was one of the only times when she showed me any affection, but as soon as my father came in to dance with her, I would be forgotten again. Dickie had it worst of all—it is why he behaved so badly when he was younger and craves attention and affection with all of his heart, even now. He received none from our parents, always foisted off into the care of the governess or the nurse or endless tutors or to me.

"I used to feel such guilt when the two of us, Dickie and I, would head off to Eton, leaving Anna behind. I dread to think of the isolation she suffered, though she has never spoken of it. I suspect she believes it was better than it was because of her books, but whenever I would ask what time she had enjoyed with our parents, she never had an answer. She would, instead, divert the conversation back to her books or something amusing that the governess had done. And I would hear afterward, from the staff, that my mother and father had been away from Greenfield House for weeks at a time to stay with friends or to travel together to the seaside. Failing that, that they had spent the majority of their time at dinners and parties and balls, while Anna had been alone with her stories and the governess."

Caroline stared at his back, her heart cracking as she listened to his tale, hearing the bite and hitch in his voice as he remembered. The anguish in his words brought her closer to him, her legs moving without her say-so, drawn to his pain, longing to make him feel better.

"So, when you ask why I took on the responsibility of being a parent to Dickie and Anna, that is why," he concluded. "Because someone had to, and I could not go to Cambridge and leave them again. Dickie would have fared well enough, I suppose, but Anna would not. And when you ask why I married you, it is because it was my failing as a brother and as a father figure that gave Dickie permission to run. I let my guilt make me too soft toward him, in particular. Too trusting that he would do what was right, as I had."

She reached for his forearm, closing her hand around his wrist. With a gentle tug, she willed him to turn around.

Slowly, he did. His eyes glistened as he gazed down at her, his face tense with emotion, his jaw clenched. She could see the ghosts of the past turning in his mind and did not know what to do to chase them away.

"Is that why you never wanted to marry?" she asked softly.

His eyes pinched. "My mother and father were supposed to be at home on the night that they died." His throat bobbed. "Dickie and I had recently returned from Eton for the summer, and it was my birthday. Anna had prepared a cake with her own hands and the cook had made all of my favorites, so we could share a family dinner together.

"But I shared my birthday with the anniversary of their marriage. It had never bothered me before, letting them celebrate what was more important to them, but because it was also the end of my education at Eton, Anna had insisted on us having a little family party. Our mother and father agreed, but when it came time for us to have dinner, they were nowhere to be found. The housekeeper was the one who told us that they had gone to have a picnic at the church where they were wed."

Caroline could not breathe, imagining Max as a much younger man, cracking jokes and playing the jester to keep his brother and sister entertained because their parents had run off to play the lovesick fools. She pictured him glancing desperately at the windows, listening out for the sound of a carriage that would never come, willing his mother and father to give their children the attention they craved. Just once.

"You said it was a party," Caroline whispered, moving closer to him, letting her hands slide up his arms until she reached his shoulders.

He nodded. "I know. It is easier to think of it that way. It is easier to believe they had a prior engagement that could not be avoided, rather than knowing that they chose to have a picnic, alone together, instead of doing one thing for their children."

He shrugged, and she looped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe. "We stayed up all night because Anna wanted to proceed with the party, regardless of the time. She was so determined. So proud of the cake she had baked." His voice wavered. "The storm came in quickly. We were eating cake at the same time that the carriage must have fallen into the river. We were all asleep in the dining room when the news came and, do you know what the worst part is?"

Caroline nodded slowly, saying nothing.

"The first thing I thought when I was told of the news was, ‘If you had not been so selfish, you would not be dead.' I have never forgiven myself for that," he said, his eyes creasing as if in pain. "But it twisted the idea of marriage and affection for me. What the majority consider to be something wonderful, I deem to be something dreadful."

Understanding dawned like defiant sunlight piercing through storm clouds, as Caroline thought back through the weeks since their wedding; how he always withdrew when they got too close to one another, or he showed too much of what could be considered affection. It made sense now why something she craved could feel so poisonous to him, repelling him.

All of my antics this past week… Clinging to him, behaving like a similarly lovesick fool, showering him with affection…

His version of events had suggested that they should behave as if they were utterly in love with one another, but it stood to reason that it had brought back some unpleasant memories for him.

"I am sorry," she murmured. "For my part in what you must be feeling; I am sorry. I overplayed my role. I… thought it was the right thing to do."

And I did it because I wanted more. I wanted the act to become… real.

She could not say that bit aloud, not after what he had just told her. When he had said that all he could offer was companionship and her freedom, he had meant it. Love and anything close to it was a dream to her, but a nightmare to him, and all this time, she had been feeding those demons.

"I am sorry that our marriage has caused you pain," she added, her breath faltering. "I am sorry that my stupidity forced your hand."

Dickie is not to blame, she wanted to tell him. I am. And I could have spared us both—you, most of all—if I had just done the truly right thing and married your brother.

Max's hands came to rest on the curve of her waist, taking her by surprise. His eyes were narrowed, his forehead creased, his lips set in a grim line, quite apart from the tender touch of his hands.

"Marriage is not… what I expected," he said hoarsely. "Marriage to you is not what I expected. I?—"

She put her fingertips to his lips. "You do not have to explain, Max. I understand. I put you in the most impossible situation, and I keep doing it. But I did not know before. Now that I do, I will refrain from behaving in a manner that causes you pain." She gestured around at the belvedere, the rain now beating down on the panes. "I will live here. I will be happy here. We will see one another as friends, and?—"

"Stop!" he gasped, pulling her hand away from his mouth. "Would you just… stop."

"That is what I am saying," she replied, startled by his response. "I will stop. I will?—"

His lips were on hers before she could utter another word, his arms sliding around her, holding her against him. Her eyes widened in surprise, her hands gripping his lapels for purchase, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest as his mouth moved slowly, invitingly, guiding her.

Feeling the worlds of what she wanted, what she could not have, and what she still dreamed of colliding at once, she sank into his embrace. Silencing all the voices that told her it was a bad idea, she kissed him back with all of the pent-up longing that had been building since the day they shared their first dinner together.

Her hand slid into his silky, golden-brown hair, her other hand gently holding his cheek as their kiss deepened. In turn, his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, while his other hand lightly caressed up the curve of her back, until his hand cradled her neck.

She did not know what this meant, nor could she think about that. All she knew was that a dream had come true, and she would enjoy it for as long as it lasted until reality made her wake up.

Out in the world beyond the belvedere, thunder grumbled, and a shard of lightning forked across the distant sky, illuminating the swollen dark clouds for a moment.

The frightening sound and sight made Caroline cling tighter to her husband, kissing him with everything she possessed in case it was the first and final time. After all, she could think of nothing more tragic than being married to a handsome, amusing, generous, kindhearted man, only to never be kissed.

Max kissed her back in kind, his lips soft and warm and passionate, leading her in a dreamy dance. Indeed, there had to be some magic in his kiss, for the air around them had thickened, bristling with the same electricity as the storm outside. And she would have been lying if she had said she did not feel a fearsome spark leap between them, making her suddenly feverish, her breath drawn in shallow pulls.

All too soon, he brought the kiss to a slow conclusion, placing a softer kiss on her brow before he pulled back. But his arms stayed around her, his hand still cradling the back of her neck, keeping that tiny flame of hope alive in her chest.

"If we are to purchase this house," he said softly, "then let it be our summer house."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that, inexplicably, I… do not feel dread when you are by my side," he explained, mirroring her frown. "If you are amenable, I should like us to continue as we were at Harewood Court."

She tried to relax the creases from her brow, to put him at ease, but the truth was, she did not know what that meant either. Did he want them to be companions who enjoyed one another's company? Did he want them to be friends? Did he want them to be two people who lived together and tolerated one another, but did not involve themselves too much in one another's lives?

But he has changed that. In kissing me, everything has changed. Surely, he had to be aware of that?

She opened her mouth, eager to hear outright what he felt when he was near to her, and what their relationship would be from now on, but fear held her throat closed. Fear of rejection from the one man who might turn out to be her version of Lionel. Fear of pushing him away again. Fear of losing whatever was in the air between them at that moment.

And a greater fear of not knowing why she wanted to know how he felt when she, herself, did not know what she felt.

"I am… amenable," she said quietly. "Although, I do like this house."

He flashed a surprisingly shy smile. "As do I. Especially that cherry tree." He pointed his chin at the window where the swaying pink fronds were just visible. "It almost looks like it is snowing."

"What?" She blinked up at him.

"I said, it almost looks like it is snowing."

She did not know whether to laugh or gasp.

If the first snow falls before December the Twelfth, then Max will kiss me before the new year begins.

That had been her barter with fate and, as it so often did, it seemed it had granted her request in the most unexpected way.