Breaking Up with Barrett: The English Brothers #1 (The Blueberry Lane Series - The English Brothers) (12 page)

Her eyes jerked back to Barrett’s, and her mouth flew open. She placed a hand over her mouth and composed herself quickly. “I had no idea.”

“It all happened very fast,” answered Barrett.

“I’m sure it did,” said Felicity, shooting daggers at Barrett before turning back to Emily. “What did you say your last name was?”

“Edwards,” replied Emily, still holding out her free hand to Felicity.

“Emily Edwards. Hmm. I don’t believe we’ve met,” said Felicity, shaking Emily’s hand quickly before pulling hers away.

“I was at Penn years after you.”

Felicity flinched at the implication that she was much older than Emily and Barrett almost grinned, except he knew Felicity was probably hurt, and as much as he’d never had any serious interest in her, he wasn’t anxious to hurt her either.

“A younger woman, Barrett,” she said, her voice flirtatious, but her eyes hard.

“We’ve known each other forever,” said Emily, and Barrett squeezed her hand gently at the nervous tremor in her voice.

“Is that so?” asked Felicity smoothly. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and Felicity took a glass. Emily shook her head no. “Well, what a coincidence, because I feel like I’ve known Barrett forever too…
intimately
.”

Barrett clenched his jaw, stealing a quick look at Emily. If Felicity’s insinuation bothered her, she didn’t let it show.

“Barrett’s a wonderful man,” replied Emily smoothly. “How lucky for you to have known him in
any
capacity.”

She was so dignified and yet so direct, her tone gentle and firm at once, he admired her. He was amazed and proud to see her holding her own.

“I just can’t believe we never met,” said Felicity, cocking her head to the side, desperately trying to place Emily as the younger sister of one of their society friends. “Are you the youngest?”

“The only,” she answered.

“And you grew up in Haverford.”

“I did. My parents are still there.”

Felicity smiled thinly. She knew it was impolite to continue that line of questioning so she switched gears. The boat lurched softly as they cleared the dock and started for the open sea. Barrett wished he could take Emily upstairs to the viewing deck. Frankly, he wished he could take her anywhere that didn’t include Felicity.

“So, Emily, what is it you do?”

“I’m a doctoral student at Penn.”

“A student. How interesting.” She said this like mud was far more captivating. “Your course of study?”

“Early American industrialization.”

“Fascinating. And you went to U Penn undergrad like me and B.”

“Yes, I did.”

“How divine! Where did you pledge?”

“Pledge?”

“Tri-Delt? Chi O?”

“Oh,” Emily cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, I wasn’t in a sorority. Though I was Phi Beta Kappa.”

“Of course you were.” Felicity’s nostrils flared delicately as she smiled at Emily. Emily hadn’t joined one of the social clubs offered on campus—she’d mentioned the club that only took the smartest students at Penn with the highest GPAs. Felicity Atwell had never come close to Phi Beta Kappa. “We should play a round of nine sometime. Get to know one another now that we have Barrett in common.”

“I don’t golf,” said Emily, and for the first time, Barrett sensed a warning in her tone. She didn’t like it that Felicity kept harping on her erstwhile relationship with Barrett and he understood. And he’d never admit it, but on some level he liked that she cared enough to be jealous.

“How’s your tennis game?” asked Felicity.

Before the claws really came out, Barrett intervened. Emily had held her own like a champion, but it was time to put Felicity in her place, and he knew the best way to do it.

“She’s dynamite on the tennis court,” said Barrett gently in a low, suggestive voice, letting go of Emily’s hand and shifting to put his arms around her waist from behind and pull her up against his chest. He felt her relax into him almost immediately.

***

“Honestly, I’m not very good at tennis, Felicity,” Emily said, thankful Barrett had finally made a decisive move to establish which of them he belonged to. He leaned forward and rubbed his nose softly under her ear, and Emily forced her eyes not to flutter closed from the sweetness of the sensation.

As Felicity stared at them with unmasked fascination, her face fell—very subtly and quietly—and Emily felt an unexpected surge of sympathy for her. She could imagine, for a moment, how terrible it would feel to lose Barrett.

Emily knew about Felicity Atwell, of course. Barrett and Felicity appeared together regularly in the society pages, and they were the paper’s favorite on-again, off-again couple. According to Smith—and even to Barrett—they’d never been in a committed relationship, but they’d certainly spent time together.

It didn’t hurt Emily that Felicity existed. Or that’s what she told herself. And rationally, it really didn’t. Of course Barrett had been with other women. He was a young, vital man with needs, and Felicity had met those needs. Sure, it stung a little to imagine them together, but Emily worked hard to push those images from her mind. His arm was around
her
waist. And from everything he’d shared with Emily,
she
was the person he wanted in his life.

She tilted her head to the side, and gave Felicity a small smile of sympathy.

“Will you excuse me?” Felicity asked with glistening eyes, turning away from them and heading down a wood-paneled corridor.

Emily turned in Barrett’s arms, sighing as she shook her head back and forth. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t like the way she was talking to you. Implying that you weren’t our kind.”

“I’m
not
your kind, Barrett.”

“You’re the only kind I want,” he answered, pulling her closer, until her chin rested on his shoulder. “It doesn’t bother you? Me and Felicity?”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“No,” he answered simply.

“Did you ever?”

“No. Not really.”

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“You know I do. I’m crazy about you, Emily. I always have been.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat that rose at the tenderness of his words.

“Then it’s all okay,” she whispered, leaning her cheek against his shoulder, perilously close to glistening eyes herself as he tightened his arms around her.

“I don’t know if it’s
all
okay. I hate to say it, but this is a bit of a snag, Emily. She’ll tell everyone, you know,” he said softly near her ear, “that you’re my fiancée. It’s only a matter of time until the whole world knows.”

Emily drew back, brows creased and worried, as she searched his face. He was telling the truth. “My parents.”

“I’ll get ahead of it, okay? We’re all trapped out on a boat in the Hamptons for now. She can’t do much. I’ll talk to Felicity. Let her know we’re keeping it quiet, and ask her to respect that.” She must have still looked worried, because he reached up to caress her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out a way to fix it.”

“I trust you, Barrett,” she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head to kiss his palm.

“I won’t let you down,” he said, his eyes full of tenderness as he watched her lips press against his skin. “I promise, Emily.”

She smiled, and he dropped his mouth to hers, brushing his lips against hers with aching gentleness, before pulling her toward the stairs that led to the upper deck.

Convinced that Emily would be well looked-after, flanked by Hélène Harrison and another older lady as the butlers cleared away the lunch dishes, Barrett followed J.J. Harrison to the bridge to finish their conversation about Harrison Shipbuilding.

As J.J. put on a white captain’s cap and dismissed the ancillary crew, he gestured to the co-captain’s seat, inviting Barrett to sit down.

“Are we in good hands with you at the helm, sir?” he asked lightly.

“I’m not a hack, English. Unlike my brothers and sister who haven’t set foot on a boat since they were in diapers, I try not to go more than a day or so without being on one. I know more about boats and boatbuilding then I do about anything else. It’s why my father left me his share of Harrison Shipbuilding.”

“Again, sir, that’s the very reason we’d like for you to remain on the board.”

“Let’s cut the crap. You want me on the board so it looks like a peaceful transition.”

“A peaceful transition wouldn’t hurt the deal, that’s true.”
“As if you deserve my help,” he huffed, hands on the traditional ship boat wheel, grey eyes staring out at the calm blue sea ahead.

“It’s going to happen, Harrison,” said Barrett gently, but firmly. “Whether you like it or not, we’re going to buy your company. We’re going to try to keep it together, and make it more profitable. If that fails to happen, we’ll sell it off in parts. That’s reality. Your choices are limited, but you do have choices.”

Barrett knew the emotional implications of what he was saying. J.J. looked at Harrison Shipbuilding as other men looked at their children. The threat of separating the divisions would be the hardest pill to swallow.

“Carve up my father’s company like a Thanksgiving turkey,” he snarled.

Barrett cracked his knuckles before opening the door of the trap.
3-2-1…

“Of course you’d have more control over those sorts of decisions if you were still sitting on the board, sir.”

“They shouldn’t call you ‘Shark.’ They should call you ‘Snake.’”

J.J. took a deep breath and looked at the controls, before gazing back out at sea, blinking furiously. To Barrett’s horror, he realized the older man was becoming emotional, and instead of feeling the thrill of the kill within his grasp, Barrett’s heart clutched, and his first instinct was to reach out and put his arm around J.J. Harrison’s shoulder. He didn’t, of course, but it occurred to him.

“Fine,” rasped J.J. “I’ll take the deal, with one caveat.”

“Which is?”

“The fishing boat division. I know it’s not the most profitable, but it’s still in the black ever year. Those guys—those craftsmen—have been with me since I was wet behind the ears. I want a guarantee that you don’t sever that limb right away. I know it’ll be tempting, because it’s small and the profits are meager next to the yacht and cargo shop production. But…”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Barrett.

J.J. nodded, his face in profile a mask of misery as he stared out the massive windows in front of them. “You got what you wanted. Give me a minute, huh?”

He heard the waver in Harrison’s voice, noticed the way his fingers fisted around the wood of the ship’s wheel until the knuckles were white. Barrett gritted his teeth together. He felt like an asshole. He felt like a murderer.

“It’s a good deal, sir,” he said quietly, standing up.

“Good for who?” asked J.J., finally looking up at Barrett with watery eyes.

Barrett grimaced lightly before turning to go.

***

By the time they returned to Trade Winds, the sun was just starting to set and Hélène urged everyone to change for dinner as quickly as possible, advising that they’d be having cocktails at sunset, followed by a cold buffet supper indoors with a local pianist tickling the ivories after dinner.

Emily had noticed the change in Barrett when he returned from his meeting with J.J. Harrison. He was brooding and quiet again, and Emily was anxious to get back to their room and talk. She’d also made a decision of her own after the beautiful words he’d said to her on the boat, and she was anxious to share that too.

Felicity caught up with them as they walked toward the house slowly, hand-in-hand, bringing up the rear.

“Barrett!” called Felicity. “Tell me again how you know each other? Hélène said it’s the most darling story.”

“We grew up on the same road.”

“Well, I think I know just about everyone who lives on Blueberry Lane. The Story’s, the Winslow’s, the Ambler’s, and the Rousseau’s. Am I missing anyone?”

“The Edward’s,” said Barrett drily, holding Emily’s hand tighter.

“It just can’t be. There are only five houses on your road.”

The same concern that she’d felt in the car yesterday after playing “Cliché” with Smith surfaced again. He wasn’t ashamed of where she came from, was he? His affection for her parents and certainly for her, seemed certain, effortless. But, she couldn’t be with him unless she was sure, and now was a unique time to find out once and for all.

“There are actually about fourteen houses on our road,” said Emily, glancing at Barrett with worried eyes, relieved to find his face tender and open as he looked down at her. He didn’t shake his head no, or flinch, or grimace. Just watched her as though sharing her piece of this puzzle was her choice to make, not his.

Felicity chuckled. “I’ve lived in Haverford all my life, and I know that—”

“In addition to Haverford Park,” Emily interrupted in a calm and level voice. “Green Farms, Westerly, Chateau Nouvelle and Forrester, there are also five gatehouses, three guest houses, and one in-law cottage.”

“You just named the five houses, Emily, and you grew up in none of them because I know the people who did. I must be missing your point.”

“
People
live in those gatehouses and guest houses, and the late Madame Rousseau lived in the in-law cottage at Chateau Nouvelle until last summer.”

“How illuminating.”

“I guess it would be if you’d never considered it.”

“Gatehouses and guest hou—” Felicity started to scoff, then sucked in a mouthful of air. “Wait…Are—Are you saying that
you
grew up in a
gate
house or
guest
house?” Her voice was incredulous and her chuckle amused, until Barrett and Emily stopped walking and turned to look at her. Her sparkling eyes were blank with confusion as she stared at Emily, as if seeing her for the first time. “No….”

“Yes,” said Emily, lifting her chin. “I grew up in the gatehouse at Haverford Park.”

“But that can’t be. That would mean you’re…
the help
.” Felicity’s jaw dropped, and her glance flicked quickly from Emily to Barrett, then back to Emily again. “You’re the daughter of the help?”

“Of the gardener and the housekeeper, yes.”

“Oh. Oh, my. Oh, Barrett,” said Felicity, her face transformed by mirth. “This is
such
a cliché!”

“
You’re
a cliché,” he growled, taking a step forward.

“Barrett, don’t,” murmured Emily, trying to pull his arm back, but finding it as stiff as iron.

“You’re a
joke
, Felicity. Thirty-two years old sleeping with a man who has no interest in you. Who’s next? J.C. Rousseau? Preston Winslow? We’ll just pass you around Blueberry Lane until we’re done. How about that?”

Felicity gasped, drawing her arm back to slap Barrett, but Emily intercepted her wrist, holding it firmly and shaking her head. “You won’t hit him. He shouldn’t have said that, but you started this. You won’t hit him.”

Felicity wrenched her wrist away with a jerk. “I won’t have a
gardener’s daughter
tell me what I can and cannot do.”

Emily moved slightly to stand in front of Barrett and felt his hands fall onto her hips. She spoke firmly, but gently. “Go back up to the house now, Felicity. This is finished.”

Felicity’s face turned an interesting shade of purplish-red as she pursed her lips, cutting her eyes from Emily to Barrett. They finally rested on Barrett.

“You’ll regret this,” she snarled, then turned and stomped up to the house.

Emily reached for Barrett’s hand on her hip and sighed as they started walking again.

“We’ve made an enemy,” she observed softly, thinking about what he said earlier about Felicity publicizing the news of Barrett’s “engagement” among their mutual social acquaintances. That seemed to be an inevitability now. They’d need to address it at some point, and she’d need to call her parents to tell them it wasn’t true to spare them upset.

He shrugged. “I didn’t like the way she was talking to you.”

“You didn’t need to defend me. I’m comfortable with who I am.”

“I
didn’t
defend you,” he answered. “I never even mentioned you. I’m comfortable with who you are, too.”

She thought back through his words and realized he was right—he hadn’t actually defended her. He’d addressed Felicity and her life, never mentioning Emily at all. He didn’t defend her, because he didn’t think her life was so lowly that it required defense. The last of her armor slipped away, and the decision she’d made an hour before became final in her mind.

“Barrett,” she said softly, dropping his hand so that she could shimmy the engagement ring off her finger. “I’m giving this back.”

“What? Why? Because of Felicity? I’m done with her. I haven’t been with her since the day I came to see you at Penn.”

“
Came
to see me?”

He flinched, biting his lip, shaking his head.

“You bumped into me. After an endowment meeting.”

“No, Emily. I didn’t have a meeting that day. I came to find you.”

“Why? Because you needed a fake fiancée?”

He shrugged. “In part. Also, I overheard your father talking to mine, sharing that he was concerned about your cash flow. I just wanted… I just wanted to help you, so I—”

His words were cut off by the feel of her body crashing into his, her hands lacing around his neck. Her lips slammed into his, and her tongue slid into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up against him in the middle of the lawn, on display for the entire weekend party to see. She didn’t care. He had looked after her his entire life, holding her as a baby, bringing her a stuffed bear when she broke her arm, turning his back on a possible engagement because he loved her. Quietly. Not because he wanted fanfare or recognition, but because he loved her. He
loved
her. And she loved him too.

She rested her forehead on his, panting lightly, and let the hand holding the ring twist behind her. When she found his hand, flattened on the small of her back, she peeled the top fingers and dropped the ring in the pouch of palm she had created.

“I’ll find another way to get the money for rent,” she murmured, feeling drunk and aroused and leveled by the force of her love for him. “I don’t want to be your fake fiancée anymore. I want to be your girlfriend. I want to
be
with you, Barrett. Tonight.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his breath soft and hot against her skin.

“I’ve never been this sure of anything.”

He groaned softly, and she felt his fingers close around the ring as he tilted his head and seized her lips again.

***

Here’s what Barrett learned about having to go to a cold buffet and listen to mind-numbingly dull piano music when the woman you’re in love with, who happens to be a virgin, tells you she wants you she wants to
be
with you: You are giddily happy that you’re actually together for real with no more artifice. You are aroused to the point of discomfort, and at the same time, you’re terrified about making everything perfect for her. In short, you’re caught between heaven and hell, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

He felt so much for Emily, he couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight or lose physical contact with her for an instant, keeping his hand in hers, or his arm around her as much as possible. The “in love” part of his brain was on hyper drive knowing that after a lifetime of longing, he was about to have what he wanted most in the world. All those business partners who counted on “the Shark” for their business transactions would have been staggered by the transformation in Barrett, whose generally aloof personality gave away nothing. With Emily, it seemed, he gave away everything.

Felicity, who had a front row seat to the whipped sap that was Barrett, alternated between shooting them daggers and rolling her eyes from across the room. But for the fact that she was sure to exact her revenge in some potentially embarrassing way for Emily, Barrett couldn’t care less. And so what if the world discovered he was “engaged” to Emily Edwards? His friends wouldn’t be rude enough to poke around about it until an announcement was made. And if she went to the papers, he’d just give a statement saying that Felicity had blown things out of proportion calling his girlfriend his fiancée, and Felicity would look like a jealous, vengeful ex-lover. Anyway Barrett barely spent a moment thinking about Felicity, he was so mesmerized by Emily, whose eyes had softened with love since giving him back his ring. Was she as anxious to be alone together as he was?