As You Wish (29 page)

“Is it teatime already?” Lord Solebury asked, propped up in the bed.  “David and I have had such a wonderful chat that I lost track of time.”

“Your conversation must have been stimulating.”  His sister’s voice wavered, drawing Leah’s gaze away from David.  The woman’s eyes shone.  “You’re looking very . . . lively, Jon.”

“I feel lively.”  He laughed, and Leah realized he did look more alert and composed than she’d ever seen him.  No wonder his sister was emotional.  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such a rich discussion.  David has got my intellectual juices flowing again.  Funny, he never used to be so philosophical.”

Isabella nodded, biting her lip.  “It’s been a long time since you have, either.”

He smiled and turned to Leah.  “My dear young lady, I hope you and your father have resolved your differences.  I’m afraid that in trying to protect our children, we fathers often end up unduly interfering in their lives.  I’ve had ten years to contemplate similar ways I wronged my son.  Perhaps I should share some of my regrets with your father.”

David shook his head.  “I fear we can hardly fault Mr. Cantrell with undue interference.”

Leah frowned, wondering how he could possibly make such a statement.  Before she could ask, the marquess spoke.

“Cantrell . . . Leah Cantrell.”  He rubbed his chin.  “You know, Isabella, you’re right.  That
was
the girl in our family legend.  What a remarkable coincidence.”

“Quite.”  His sister gave Leah an accusing stare but pressed her lips together, presumably using all her will to keep from speaking her thoughts out loud.

“It
is
my real name,” Leah blurted.  “I have a valid passport to prove it.  And my father can confirm my story.  He has a passport, too.”

Lord Solebury reached out and patted her hand.  “Of course it’s your name, dear.  Few of us have names that are entirely unique.  I consider the fluke concerning yours an omen.  I think it shows that your destiny is tied to this family’s.”

She swallowed and glanced at David, whose eyes didn’t reveal a thing about his thoughts.

“Perhaps we should all get ready for tea,” Lady Isabella said.  “Mrs. Pickford doesn’t like to hold the meals she works so hard to prepare.”

“Of course.”  David pulled his gaze away from Leah’s.  “If you’ll excuse me . . .”

She sighed.  Now she’d get to speak to him.  The knowledge left her half-relieved and half-afraid.

“Certainly.”  Lord Solebury gave him a wide smile.  “Thank you so much for the chat.”

Lady Isabella eyed her brother, holding her lower lip between thumb and forefinger.  When she glanced at David and saw him watching her, she let her hand drop.  “Yes . . . thank you.  I believe you’ve done my brother good.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”  He gave one of his old-fashioned bows.  After a short, electrically charged lapse in conversation, he asked, “When should we be downstairs?”

“In about a quarter hour,” Isabella said.  “I hope that gives us all enough time to prepare.”

“Certainly.”  With another general bow, he turned and left the room.

Leah murmured, “Excuse me,” and darted after him.  As soon as they stepped into the hall, she said, “I need to talk to you.”

He glanced at her but didn’t stop walking.

Knees wobbling, she willed herself to keep up with him.  He couldn’t really be leaving, could he?  Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with the clothes disappearing.

“Do you know that all your things--the viscount’s things--are gone from our room?” she asked.

He continued up the hall, showing no surprise and, even worse, avoiding her gaze.  “I asked Lady Isabella if I might move to my own chamber.”

“You did?”  Nausea stirred inside her, a feeling all-too familiar.  She’d been through this with Kevin so many times.  Whenever their relationship had begun to open up and grow, he’d always slammed the door on all possibilities.  The confidence she’d gained over the past few weeks melted, and her voice came out small and weak.  “Why?”

He still wouldn’t look at her.  The old cynical curl pulled at his lower lip.  “Don’t make this any harder than it is, Leah.  Where is your father?”

She stopped outside the door to their room, startled by his quick change of subject.  Suddenly, the heat of anger flared up her neck, burning away her feelings of helplessness.  He wasn’t going to crush her.  She was her own person, a whole person, capable of living happily on her own--and capable of calling him on his evasion tactics.  She stood there until he stopped and turned to face her.

“This is about you and me,” she said.  “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“You should have gone with him.”  His stare was hard, his eyes untwinkling.

She shook her head.  “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.  I make my own choices.”

He looked away, running a hand through his hair.  “I only meant that you should honor your father’s wishes.  It’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, really?  That’s the best attempt you could make to dodge the real issue?  Well, you couldn’t have picked a more ridiculous argument.  As if
you’re
an expert on filial honor!  When did you ever honor your father?”

He scowled at her.  “This is entirely different.  The man is only trying to protect your interests.”

She let her arms go limp at her sides.  “Why not say what you mean, David?”

He only stared.

She stood waiting for him to say something.  But what was she waiting to hear?  That she meant so little to him that he was willing to forget about her the minute her father gave them a little grief?

She opened the door behind her and stepped into
her
room.  “You know, I’m glad you already took your things out of here.  Now, I don’t have to listen to any more of your ridiculous excuses and hypocritical advice while you move out.”

The tilt of his eyes began to look sad right before she blanked out his face with a slam of the door.

She flopped belly first onto the bed, convinced the emotion she’d seen must have been pity.  Well, she didn’t need his pity.   She didn’t need anything from him, not now that she’d learned to rely on herself.

A sniffle escaped her without warning, and she hid her face in the pillow.  Damn it, her love was worth more than this.  She was worth fighting for.

A tap sounded on the door, and she froze.

“Leah?” David called softly.

She gulped her tears down hard.  If she answered, he’d be sure to know she was crying.

“Leah?”

Another minute passed, then she heard the sound of his footsteps fading in the hall.  She hiccupped and pulled the pillow over her head.

Even a self-reliant person had to cry once in awhile.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

David stood staring at the door Leah had slammed in his face.  He clamped his jaw tight to keep from calling to her a third time.  He really had no right to address her at all.  Had he not unleashed enough chaos in her life?  Only that morning he had vowed not to cause her further trouble.

He fought an urge to pound on the wood or even kick through the panels.  His resolve to leave her alone would have been easier if he’d been able to return to past.  The spring, however, had not cooperated.  When he’d gone to the clearing, he’d found nothing but a dried-up hole.

The relief he’d felt had made him wonder whether he could have gone through with the plan anyway.

Now he had another opportunity to show he had honorable intentions.  But walking away from her door proved nearly as difficult as it would have been to step back into the past.       
The time portal is closed
, a voice in his head persisted.  Fate had chosen to keep him in this century, and he felt certain he had a purpose here.  Could that purpose not rest with Leah?

The wooden door hung before him, not physically impenetrable but morally so.

“Fool,” he hissed to himself, closing his eyes to keep the barrier from taunting him.  If he had a purpose, it surely centered around the marquess.  Any effort he could make to comfort his lordship would be a noble pursuit.  Chasing a woman intended for another man could only be deemed self-serving.

He opened his eyes and walked toward his own quarters.  When he tried to close the door after him, the edge caught on the frame and wouldn’t shut.  He yanked harder, venting his frustration on the wood.  This time the door slammed into place, bringing back the image of Leah’s angry countenance as she had slammed her door.  He grimaced and tried to blot out the impression by surveying his new room.

Dimly lit and poorly appointed, the chamber suffered in comparison to the one he had shared with Leah.  The narrow bed looked lumpy, and a musty odor plagued his nostrils.  As he wrinkled his nose, a draft blew through a crack in the window behind him, making the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.  He doubted the “uninhabitable” rooms in the west wing could have been much less inviting.

Then again, no chamber would have pleased him now--not without Leah to share the space.

A clock chimed in the hall, reminding him to dress for tea.  He grappled with a sticking dresser drawer.  Even inanimate objects seemed to be mocking him, but he knew the real struggle lay within him.  His base yearnings kept him from thinking constructively.  He should have been planning how to help his relations save their estate--or, at least be able to live their golden years in comfort.

He snatched a random tie from the drawer, peering into a cheval glass to wrap the cloth around his neck.  As he looped a simple modern knot together, the mirror made his movements look backward and wrong--rather like this alternate time period distorted his judgment.  He had to admit, though, that his decision to go the marquess and try to cheer him had proved a happy exception to his blundering.  Something good, something truly meaningful, had come out of their talk, and somehow he had instigated that good.

“Is that not proof of where your purpose lies?” he asked his reflection.  He, David Traymore, had actually helped Lord Solebury gain some peace of mind.  His lordship’s vagaries had lessened as they discussed the family history, and the marquess had grown downright sharp when the conversation turned to the meaning of family.  Lord Solebury had needed to talk about his lost son, and David had been the one to elicit the catharsis.

His fingers stopped working as he thought back on how the marquess’s calming had progressed.  With his own eyes, he had seen the man healing as he confided his regrets.  What’s more, David too had experienced a sense of healing.  As his lordship spoke, he had understood the inevitably of a father’s making mistakes along the path he chose . . . as any man made mistakes.

As his own father had.

He stared hard into his reflected eyes, so much like those of the sixth marquess.  His, however, began to look bright, and he refocused on his fingers, reaching blindly toward the drawer for a tie tack.

“Damn!” he muttered as a pin pierced his finger and rekindled his vexation.  He fumbled with the emblem but couldn’t connect the clasp.  Catching his own flickering gaze again, he glowered and tossed the tack aside.  What did he care for such trivia?

He went down to tea with his tie flopping on his shirt.

Leah never appeared for the meal, nor did she come down for dinner, sending word through Mavis that she felt unwell.  Again, he fought against his longing to see her, though the need grew more painful with each passing hour.  His only condolence lay in his advancement with his family.  Lord Solebury remained alert throughout the evening, and Lady Isabella’s attitude toward him continued to warm.

Nonetheless, he sighed with relief on finding Leah in the breakfast room early the next morning.  She sat alone at the table, poking a fork at a dish of omelet.  When she looked up to where he stood at the entrance from the hall, he noticed that shadows ringed her eyes, rendering her fair complexion even paler.

“You really are ill.”  His gut sank and he stepped inside the room.  He had to stop himself from rushing to her side.  “Is there . . . is there anything I can get for you?”

Her gaze dropped to her plate.  “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Look alive,” Lady Isabella called out from behind him in the hall.  As he moved aside, she wheeled the marquess in his chair into the breakfast room.

His lordship’s cheeks glowed with health, and his gaze flit attentively over his surroundings.  Isabella, too, looked animated and happy.  The “good morning” she wished Leah even sounded sincere.

Mavis bustled in behind them, balancing a tray filled with rolls and another with marmalade, sugar and a creamer.  In a little flutter of activity, everyone took a seat and set about arranging food on their plates.

“We missed you last night, Miss Cantrell,” Lord Solebury said.  He paused to bite into a croissant.  “I hope you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I am, a little, thank you.”  She gave him a wan smile.  “I didn’t sleep all that well.  Frankly, I’m not looking forward to seeing my father this morning.”

He frowned.  “I’m sorry you two aren’t seeing eye to eye.  Forgive me, dear, but I must claim the privilege of experience and advise you to give him the leeway he won’t give you.  What if someday you became separated from your father and didn’t know if you’d ever see him again?  God forbid, unforeseen things happen.  In such a case, would you have regrets?  Might you wish you had

done things differently?”

She stared at him, balancing a forkful of eggs in the air.  David realized she had indeed faced such a situation when she had been thrown into the past.  For the first time, he perceived what an ordeal she must have endured.  Unlike him, she’d had no one with whom to share her apprehensions.  He wished more than ever he had listened to her story and offered her his support.  Instead, as ever, he had failed her.

The marquess set down his roll.  “I know such an event is hard to imagine when you’ve never met with the like, but--”

“No.”  She swallowed, though she still hadn’t taken a bite of her food.  “No, I can imagine it, and you’re right, I would have regrets.  I do already.  I’ll try to talk to my father.  I’m sure he won’t make it easy for me, but I’ll do what I can to get through to him.  I promise.”