An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (26 page)

“You have created this entire situation because you want some fairytale version of love for Celia?” Fitzgilbert bellowed. He was moving toward Rosalinde now, and she fought the urge to back away. “You need to shut your mouth before you ruin everything we have worked for.”

“I don’t want either of you to regret your decision, for it cannot be undone,” Rosalinde continued, ignoring her grandfather’s looming presence.

Celia looked at Stenfax, and he looked back. Rosalinde realized it might have been the first time she’d ever seen them look each other in the eye. A moment of silent communication went between them, a moment where the hesitation her simple truth created was obvious.

“Do you forget what I can take away?” Fitzgilbert said, directing the comment to the room at large. Rosalinde supposed he meant his money when it came to Stenfax.

And his secrets when it came to her. Secrets he had lorded over them for years now. Secrets that she knew could easily put the final nail into the coffin of his ambition.

“Are you referring to the way you blackmailed Celia into accepting Stenfax’s proposal?” Rosalinde asked softly.

Stenfax pushed off the desk. “What?”

Celia covered her mouth with one hand. Her voice was muffled as she said, “Oh, Rosalinde. Don’t, don’t…”

She faced her sister, tears stinging her eyes. “We will live under his thumb forever, Celia. We will be his puppets
forever
if I don’t. And he’ll never tell us the truth.
Never
.”

“What are you holding over Celia’s head?” Stenfax asked, and suddenly he seemed to have gotten even taller. There were storms on his face, passions that he had never revealed because he never felt them for Celia.

But there they were, and Rosalinde caught her breath at the power Stenfax exuded now. Money or not, he was most definitely the man with the most power in the room.

Fitzgilbert shook his head. “It’s none of your concern!”

“I think it is,” Stenfax growled. “You have made it my concern.”

“You can tell him or I will,” Rosalinde said softly. “You can tell him about our father. About who he was. About how you stole us away from him. About how you held his true identity over our heads like cheese to a rat, forcing us to run your maze and do your bidding.”

“Shut up,” Fitzgilbert said.

“He was a servant,” Rosalinde said, turning her attention back to Stenfax.

Celia caught her breath. “What?”

Rosalinde nodded at her, seeing her reel with the information as much as Rosalinde had herself the night before. “We may not know his name, but now we know he was nothing but a servant to our grandfather. That’s how much our poor mother wanted to escape him. She would run away with a servant and bear that man two daughters out of wedlock rather than be held hostage one more moment. Gray has the proof.”

Stenfax pivoted on Gray and stared. “You have
proof
of this?”

Gray opened his mouth, and Rosalinde forced herself to look at him. He might see this as a betrayal. Only he didn’t look betrayed. He met her eyes, nodded slightly and opened his mouth to answer his brother.

But he didn’t get a chance. Before he could speak, Fitzgilbert suddenly rushed across the room toward her. She let out a truncated scream and tried to back away, but it was no use. Her grandfather had the element of surprise in his attack. He caught her throat in one big hand, even as they fell backward together.

She hit the floor, what little air he wasn’t choking from her lungs exiting with the blow. She stared up into his face, this man who was meant to raise her, protect her, love her, and all she saw was his insanity. His hatred as he closed both hands around her neck and began to squeeze. Squeeze even as she clawed at him, even as the air disappeared from her lungs and the world grew blacker and silent.

Gray was moving and he hadn’t even given his legs the order to do so. He was just flying across the room at Fitzgilbert as he leaned over Rosalinde, choking her as Celia screamed and clawed at his shoulders in a vain effort to make him stop.

Stenfax was moving too, but Gray reached Fitzgilbert first. He pushed Celia aside, knocking her on her ass before he ripped Fitzgilbert off of Rosalinde. As she was freed, she gasped for air and shoved herself backward, out of the range of her grandfather’s swinging grip.

Gray threw him across the room, into a chair that shattered into splinters, and then he jumped on top of him. Rosalinde was free, safe, and it didn’t matter—because Gray was going to destroy this man. For threatening her, for hurting her, for trying to kill her.

Gray was going to annihilate him.

He threw the first punch with all his might and felt the older man’s nose break beneath the weight of Gray’s fist. Blood splattered both across his face and Gray’s knuckles. Gray threw more and more punches, raining them down without stopping, without speaking, without thinking about anything but Rosalinde’s face when Fitzgilbert had grabbed her throat.

He felt arms and hands on him, but didn’t stop his assault until he was yanked away. Only then did his mind clear, and he became aware that he was being held by both Stenfax and Folly. Except Folly wasn’t supposed to be here. But then it also became clear that the door to the office was now open and half a dozen curious, whispering faces were peering in at the carnage in the room.

Celia moved toward her grandfather cautiously, digging in her pocket for a handkerchief.

The man needed more than that. His nose was shattered and his face was bruised. Gray didn’t feel the least bit sorry, either.

“Get away!” Fitzgilbert cried as Celia reached for him.

She skittered back and returned to at once to Rosalinde’s side. Celia helped her to her feet and immediately the sisters fell into each other’s arms.

Gray looked at Rosalinde. There were finger-shaped bruises on her throat. His vision went red again at the sight and he lunged toward Fitzgilbert, but Folly and Lucien kept him steady.

“Enough,” Lucien said in his ear. “Enough.”

“Keep him away from me,” Fitzgilbert said, covering his bleeding nose and pushing through the crowd to exit the room. Gray could hear him calling for his horse as he left.

“All right,” Gray said, shrugging from the hold of his brother and friend. “All right.”

They released him at last, and he straightened his coat as he made his way directly to Rosalinde. He took her hands and guided her to a chair. She sat and he knelt down before her, tracing her face with his fingers as if to tell himself that she was whole.

She was pale and shaking, her eyes filled with tears as she stared at him.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

She held his stare. “Yes,” she whispered, but her voice was rough from being choked.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I should have killed him.”

She covered his fingers with her hands and squeezed. “You did enough, Gray. Thank you for coming to my aid.”

“Everyone out,” Stenfax said, looking toward the crowd.

It was only then that Gray really realized what was happening. A good portion of the party had seen at least some part of his pummeling of Fitzgilbert and all of his comforting of Rosalinde. They were staring, whispering. The story was too good not to spread like wildfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before he stood. She clung to his hand a moment, then released him.

As Lady Stenfax hustled the crowd from the room, exhaustion on her face, Felicity entered and crossed to Gray. She looked up into his face and sighed. “You don’t know how to do anything by half.”

He shook his head. “Fitzgilbert tried to kill her.”

Felicity jolted back. “Oh, Rosalinde,” she said, looking toward her. All the blood had gone out of her face and she swayed ever so slightly as she saw Rosalinde’s bruises. Gray frowned as his sister lifted her hands to her own throat in response, as if remembering. “I’m sorry,” she said at last.

Rosalinde blushed and dipped her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Felicity hugged Gray and he felt her tremble for a moment before she whispered, “I’m sorry. I tried to keep them out. The noise was so loud, I couldn’t distract them all.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gray reassured her.

Stenfax sidled up and Felicity stepped back. “I’ll try to help Mama mitigate the damage,” she said, squeezing first one brother’s hand then the other.

She departed the room, leaving only Folly behind. He shook his head slowly at the brothers and bowed to Celia and Rosalinde. “I’m glad you were not injured, Mrs. Wilde.”

“Thank you for your help,” Celia said when Rosalinde didn’t look up.

Her gaze seemed locked on the floor now, and Gray wasn’t certain if she was reliving the moment when her grandfather had actually tried to kill her or if she were swamped by the humiliation of what had followed.

Perhaps both.

It stung Gray to see her so still. So somber.

Folly closed the door behind him, leaving Gray, Lucien, Rosalinde and Celia alone at last. Celia took a place beside her sister and took her hand as she stared up at the two men.

Stenfax took a long breath and moved to the women. “Rosalinde, are you certain you aren’t injured?”

She looked up at him. “I’m certain, my lord,” she said, though the scratchiness of her voice persisted. “Gray’s quick action kept me from any permanent harm. I was shocked more than anything.”

“As were we all,” Stenfax said with a shake of his head. He paced away across the room. “That was a damned spectacle,” he murmured.

Gray watched his brother. Waves of tension coursed from him, as well as anger and outrage. He was surprised to find he was
happy
to see Stenfax so emotional. This wasn’t dangerous like the night on the terrace wall. But it was real. And he hadn’t seen his real brother for nearly two years.

Rosalinde was watching him, too. “My lord—” she began.

Stenfax turned, his hand up. “Forgive me, Rosalinde, but I believe you have said enough. About what you think should happen, about truths that have shocked us all. You and my brother have said a mouthful lately. Now it is between Celia and me.” He motioned to Celia. “Will you come here, please?”

Celia rose slowly and walked toward Stenfax, her shoulders back and her chin raised. She looked like she was marching to her execution. Gray could hardly blame her. After everything they had been through in the past half an hour, she had to believe his brother might be cruel.

Which proved she didn’t know Lucien at all. And proved Rosalinde’s earlier point about the poor quality of their match.

“Are
you
all right?” Stenfax asked, his tone softer, warmer.

Celia blinked as if surprised by his inquiry. “I-I can’t believe he would do that. I always knew his capacity for vindictiveness, but if Gray hadn’t stopped him—”

Stenfax took her hand. Gray realized it was the first time he’d ever seen him do so, unless it was required. He held it gently. “But Gray
did
stop him,” Stenfax said softly. “I’m so sorry, Celia.”

She nodded. “Thank you. But you must think so little of me now. Seeing what my grandfather did. Hearing the truth about my parentage. I know it shocked me, I cannot imagine your reaction.”

“Celia, I think no less of you than I did the day I asked for your hand,” Stenfax said with a shake of his head. “You are no more in control of your grandfather’s actions than you are of the wind or the rain. As for your parentage, yes, I suppose that secret coming out could cause a scandal, but that wouldn’t stop me from wedding you.”

“You still wish to wed me?” Celia asked, her tone filled with disbelief, and Gray thought some disappointment.

“Your sister’s points before the chaos were very good ones,” Stenfax said. “And I think we both know that to be true. So before I answer your question about whether we should wed, I think you need to answer this one: do you care for me, Celia?”

She hesitated for a moment, and Gray could see her fighting with herself. Then she smiled. Perhaps it was the first real smile he had ever seen from her. He had to admit, it was an appealing expression.

“No,” Celia said with a small laugh. “I do not love you even in the slightest. Do you care for me?”

“Looking at you, so beautiful, knowing your intelligence and your kindness, I’m sure this answer speaks of my poor character, but no, Celia. I don’t. Not the way a husband should. Do you want
more
than what a marriage between us would entail?”

Celia nodded without hesitation. “I thought I didn’t, but I find that I do, Stenfax. I do. And I think
you
deserve more.”

Gray shut his eyes. They would not wed. This had been his desire for months, only Elise’s situation had changed his mind. But now he found he was not upset by it. He was not pleased by it, either. In the end, it had been his brother’s decision. And Gray couldn’t fault him for making it. Even if he was terrified about what Lucien would do once he found out Elise was free.

But that was a matter to be dealt with another day.

“Are you saying you two are breaking the engagement?” Rosalinde said softly as she slowly rose from the settee.

Celia smiled once again at Lucien and then slipped off the ring she had been given just that summer. She handed it to him, then leaned up to kiss his cheek.