Microsoft Word - FortunesFool.rtf (20 page)

obsidian eyes haunting? Meanwhile she wore a mended gown from three

seasons ago, updated with new lace and ribbon.

She patted her hair. "No thank you, I'm fine."

"Did you miss me?"

For a second she considered answering no. To hold him off and

make him hurt as she had been, but it was futile to lie. She knew the truth was in her blush and her gaze and her decision had been her own.

"Yes."

She had nothing to be ashamed of, she just needed to be stronger

than her emotions. She had lain naked next to him, sharing everything,

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and she refused to be ashamed of that now. Loving someone was not a

flaw.

Still, she held her heart close, because it was so close to shattering

as he eyes absorbed her.

He held out his hand. "Come walk with me."

"I can't." She shook her head.

"Why?"

"Don't ask such a stupid question."

He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Well then, read my palm."

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand for his.

She looked it over, "You will live long life with much wealth," she said, in a thick Romanian accent.

"Can you be serious?"

"Can you be anything but?"

He huffed. "Can you answer my questions without asking another

question?"

"If I do will you go away?"

He leaned in close, "You are so full of shit. You just said that you missed me."

She glared at him. "I missed you in my mind. You in the flesh is

something I was wholly unprepared for."

"Yet here I sit."

"I answered in a declarative sentence. Two, exactly. Now go."

"Why are you being such a smartass?"

She groaned. "I told you, I wasn't ready to see you. I wanted to see you. I hoped to see you, but now, with you in front of me, I realize I was wrong. I need more time."

He sat back. "Time for what?"

"Time to get over you."

"I don't want you to get over me."

She tapped the table. "Could have fooled me."

He arched his brow.

"Did you ever send word? What was I supposed to think, that you

were pining?"

"I asked you to marry me," His brows met making him look feral,

"and you said no. What was I supposed to do, beg? Would that have

proved my sincerity?" He jabbed his finger towards her. "You said no. I respected that. That is what you wanted, respect?"

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"You twist my words! You did not ask me to marry you." She

started to get up and jab the table but sat back down. "You agreed to get married, there were no questions asked. And if there were I would still

say no."

Abby's mother swooshed over, the feathers in her hat following her.

"Hello, Mr. Dupree. So nice to see you here." She looked at Abby,

"Darling, you might want Mr. Dupree to go see the greenhouse. It's so lush and beautiful."

"Fine," she said under her breath as he held out his elbow. She placed her hand, and stiffened at the closeness and the heat of his body.

If she were to have the strength to do this, she needed to keep from

touching him. He led her though the doors into the lush humid room.

Abby inhaled the fresh green scent, and took the moment to calm

down. After all, it had been her choice to leave him.

The greenhouse was lush with fig trees and ficus, pots of ivy and

bulbs scattered about. Along one wall were orchids in various stages of

bloom and candelabras were set on tables making it seem as if the fae

would appear any moment.

"How have you been?"

"Miserable." She turned to him and smiled wide and fake, "And you?"

So much for acting like an adult.

"Sarcasm does not look good on you."

"Well, it feels wonderful."

"Unleash your anger on me, I hope it makes you feel better."

Now she wanted to beat him with a tree branch. But he was right,

she acted like a petulant child when it was her own doing.

She sighed. "Why are you here, Caden, haven't you broken me

enough?"

"I missed you. I wanted to see you." He stopped and leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips and her heart leapt, even though she didn't want it to. "I needed to see you."

"I believe I am in front of you." She steeled herself again, at the same time wanting him more than ever. He was here, in front of her and

all she had to do was reach out and touch him. Her hand never left her

side. Instead the pain in her chest made her take shallow breaths. It was as if she was trying to catch the pieces of an exploding star. And yet she would give everything to lean her head against his chest and have his

arms around her.

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He put his finger under her chin and tilted her head up to his and she

closed her eyes. He stroked her cheek where a tear made its path down

her face.

"Come live with me and be my Love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hills and valleys, dale and field,

And all the craggy mountains yield.

There we will sit upon the rocks

And see the shepherds feed their flocks,

By shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There I will make thee beds of roses

And a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle."

The tears were flowing out the sides of her eyes now and he bent to

kiss them.

"If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my

love." His voice cracked out the last few lines.

She gathered up the tiny shards of her heart. "Posies are lovely, but I desire your respect more."

She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve.

She turned and walked out, and when she got to the door Mrs.

Jennings awaited her.

"Isn't the greenhouse lovely this time of year? I forced the flowers for the party there. I had to start months ago, but the forsythia branches have only taken a few weeks." Pride of her accomplishment filled the older woman's face.

Abby nodded to Mrs. Jennings, and heard Caden come up behind

her.

"Abby, I've seated your mother and sister in the kitchen for dinner,"

She looked behind Abby and smiled, "Ah, Mr. Dupree! I'm glad to see you saw the greenhouse. Just the man I was looking for." Her brilliant smile made her look a decade younger. "Would you escort me into the dining room for dinner?"

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Caden stopped short, but recovered. Abby watched him and

blanched, mortified at being laid so low.

"Yes, ma'am." He held his elbow out.

Abby escaped into the kitchen as they stepped out.

* * * *

radiating off her in waves. In that moment his failing of Abby became

crystal clear. And even still he walked Mrs. Jennings into the dining

room because he wasn't sure how to show Abby he understood what he'd

done. Or that he was sorry for assuming her life was a sham because he

didn't understand it.

And, it occurred to him that after tonight, he might never see her

again.

So he walked beside Mrs. Jennings, nodding when appropriate, but

running through probable solutions in his mind.

He placed his hostess at the head of the table, scooting her chair in

when she sat and as he walked to his place setting, nodded to all of the faces he'd always seen at every party. They were the standard of accepted civility in the city of Boston, and at some point in time he'd lost himself gaining their approval.

He'd prided himself on his lack of compromise so many times he

never realized he wasn't watching close enough to how he gradually had

become just as insular.

Mrs. Jennings thanked him as he pushed her chair in behind her and

he nodded again, still consumed with the pain on Abby's face.

When he found his place card, he was seated next to the older single

daughter of the Cranes, what was her name? Apparently he was now the

next candidate for her marriage ticket as her parents were casting hopeful glances from the other end of the table. He looked back at her and found that she caught where his gaze had held.

"Excuse them, I believe if I don't make a match soon they'll throw in some land and a horse to go with me. For the value."

He smiled, despite himself.

"Please forgive me, I've forgotten your name." Her eyes were

twilight blue, and her hair dark blonde. But he preferred dark olive skin with wiry black hair.

"Sarah."

"Yes, we were introduced last fall, no?"

"I believe."

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"Yes, yes, I remember now."

"You're off the hook now, I'll cover for you." She smiled but her eyes were sad.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to worry about me trying to wile my way into your

favor. I can see your heart is taken already." She took a sip of wine. "And I saw the conversation at the greenhouse."

"Ah. Well, if that isn't embarrassing."

"Not really. I would hope one day someone looked at me the way

you did her."

Her blatant honesty took him aback. Lots of things seemed to be

taking him aback lately. As he snapped open his napkin and laid it on his lap the servant brought out two bowls of steaming soup and placed them

down.

"Oh, here's the first course. Fiddlehead soup, of course. Spring and all that."

Her wry wit was refreshing, and he was thankful at not having to

make small talk about inane subjects. Apparently she was going to let

him brood in peace and try to think up a way to change Abby's mind.

He drank one glass of wine in three gulps, not even tasting it and ran

though his options. Doing nothing was always an option. An ugly one,

but one none the less. If anything though, he needed to apologize, or he wouldn't be able to look at himself to shave. He could send a note, but

that would be crude. There was nothing else to do. He could not let her

leave without seeing her. He stood up and nodded to Mrs. Jennings.

"If you'll excuse me." He started to walk out.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Dupree? The soup is not to your liking? I can have the cook make you something?" Anxiety tinged her voice, and she didn't deserve a scene.

"No, the food is superb. There's a lady in your kitchen to whom I

need to apologize and convince to marry me." He got a thrill from the hush that fell over the table.

"In the kitchen?"

"Yes, Miss Abigail Drummond. You see, I've been asking and she'd

refused me quite often thinking that she would never fit in with our set."

He looked at each guest, warning them. "I told her that she would never be set down by such a hospitable group. That you were all much more

progressive than to hold her lack of finances or her family's trade against her. After all, look how you accepted me."

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Power did have its weight, and although he'd never used it in a

personal way before, it felt good to brandish it now. They'd commit

social suicide to snub him or Abby.

"It's been a long time since I first started at Boston Trust, and if you all remember I couldn't even read that well. Now I negotiate your interest rates. I may not convince her to marry me, but I expect you all to treat her with the utmost respect."

Mrs. Jennings flushed. "I'll have her and her family made settings at the table."

"No, no need. I'll go out there."

He left amidst a frozen silence and finding the kitchen, swung the

butler's doors into the room where he was greeted with a stunned quiet.

The floor was tiled in black and white with stoves, ovens and cabinets

edging the perimeter, and a huge French country table sat in the middle

like a wooden island.

Abby, her mother, and sister looked up simultaneously. It took

Abby a second to realize what it meant for him to be standing there, and he could tell when she did because her face became the exact shade of an India rubber ball.

"Abby." He nodded to her mother sitting next to her. "Mrs.

Drummond, Camille."

The butler, who'd been standing watch for course changes came up

beside him, "Mr. Dupree, would you like me to retrieve your plate? Or would you like a new one made?"

Caden scanned the plates on the table, noting that none were bowls

of pale green soup. "If that's what I can have, I'll take it." The butler looked to the chef who smiled and scurried to make him a heaping plate

of roasted chicken and potatoes. Thank God, this may have been the

wiser decision for that alone.

It hadn't gotten past him that Mrs. Drummond had been observing

him all the while. Caden expected to be insulted by her action, but rather he was happy for it. Things would be out in the open.

"Mr. Dupree, may I see your hand?" Mrs. Drummond asked.

He sat down, put the second napkin on his lap for the evening and

gave his palm to her. Unlike Abby's readings, her hands were cool and

firm and knowing. Like a doctor when he touched you with calm

assurance. There was no arcing of sexual energy between them, and that

factor alone told him more about him and Abby than anything.

"Hmmm."

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Caden's brows gathered.

"Ahhh…" Mrs. Drummond nodded to herself.

Caden glanced at Camille and then Abby to see what they thought,

only Abby rolled here eyes at him.

"Well, well," she said this time.

Caden couldn't take it any longer.