Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four (26 page)

She refused to be charmed by the pride shining in his voice. “I will not be left behind, as though an afterthought.”

He sat back in his chair, stunned to silence for a moment. “Is that what you think I’d do? Proclaim I had feelings for you and then leave you?” He glared at her.

“Not openly, no, but you are your father’s son, and I don’t see him present in Boston. How do you know he doesn’t lead a duplicitous life in New York City? I’m sure I should expect no better, should I consider someone from your class.”

“Is that how you see me?” His face flushed, almost matching the burgundy of his waistcoat. He slammed his hand down on her desk. “Dammit, is that how you think I’d treat you?” At her persistent silence, he stood, only a few paces from the door.

His movement broke Zylphia’s forced calm. She swore under her breath and launched herself onto her desk, knocking papers and pens to the floor as she slid across it, coming to stand beside him. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut. “No. You can’t leave when our conversation isn’t finished.”

He held himself with rigid control and leaned forward, rasping in a harsh voice, “You think you know me, Zee, but you only know part of me. You don’t know my ambitions. You don’t know my dreams. You don’t know the why behind the who. I thought you wanted to. Forgive me my presumption.”

She leaned into him, refusing to be cowed by his ire. Their agitated breaths mingled, and she caught a whiff of sandalwood and coffee. “And I can’t believe you presume to know me so well as to believe I’d want to know you more intimately. I know as much about you as I need to know.”

He paled, a stricken expression flitting behind his eyes before masking his emotions. “What is it that you’ve learned?”

“You tinker away for hours over meaningless experiments. You can barely hold a decent conversation when there are more than two people in the room. You are disdainful of anyone seen having a good time at a dance or a soiree.”

“That’s how you take the measure of a man?” Teddy whispered. “I can see I was mistaken in you, Zee. Forgive me.”

Zylphia flushed, shaking her head. When he moved to leave, she backed up against the door, preventing him from departing. “No, no,” she said, clearing her throat. “Forgive me. You know I say rash things I don’t mean.”

“Unfortunately I think those might be the truest words you’ve ever said to me.”

“Teddy.” She reached forward and gripped his hand. “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just …”

“What?” His gray eyes were filled with pain and confusion as they met hers.

“I feel like you want something from me that I cannot give you. And it makes me lash out.”

“Only you can decide what you will or will not give, Zee,” he murmured, reaching forward to trace a finger down one side of her cheek.

“Why do you have drawings of me in your experiment notebook in your lab?” She flinched after asking the question.

He flushed. “You don’t visit as often as I’d like, and it was my way of remembering you. Of not missing you.”

“What do you want from me?” Her voice trembled as she forced herself to meet his impassioned gaze.

“More than you could imagine,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. He gripped her shoulders, carefully pushing her to the side so he could ease open the door. “Good-bye, Zee.” He gave her shoulder a soft caress and slipped through the door.

* * *

Z
ylphia sat
on the chair Teddy had sat on three days before. Her mother sat behind the desk, having crawled behind it an hour earlier. Zylphia slouched in her chair, glaring at her mother as she refused to comply with her mother’s wishes.

“I don’t understand your reticence, Zee.” Delia tapped the tip of her pen on a piece of paper, the rate of tapping increasing with her agitation.

“Stop abusing the pen, Mother. You have to know by now that has no effect on me. Nor does staring me down.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t let us use one of your paintings.” Delia slammed the pen onto the desk. “Is it wrong for a mother to be proud of her daughter and her accomplishments? I believe your art is worthy of display, not be hidden away in your studio.”

“They’re nowhere near good enough, for one. Find a professional artist.” Her mother watched steadily, her silence prompting Zylphia to babble as she straightened to sit with perfect posture. “I paint for me, Mother. Not for anyone else. I refuse to allow my paintings to be found lacking.”

Delia nodded once as though she’d deciphered a riddle. “Hmm.”

Zylphia held herself with rigid control, her clothes perfectly pressed and her black hair styled into a chignon with no hair out of place.

“Since you’ve been found lacking by society …” Delia’s gaze softened. “No matter what you do, someone will judge you.”

Zylphia shook her head and remained mutinously silent.

“No matter how much you change yourself, it will never be enough for some. Do you think because you hide your exuberance for life, for art, for suffragism, that you will become accepted? That a little spit and polish on the outside really matters?” Delia watched her daughter with a hint of sorrow. “If it makes you happy, Zee, then by all means change. However, you don’t seem content sitting across from me.” She paused for a moment. “There is something else we must discuss. Shut the door.”

Zylphia leaned forward, clasped the side of the door and swung it shut. “What is so important that you want privacy?”

“What were you doing in this office, with the door shut, with Mr. Goff?” The staccato tapping of the pen began again and became more pronounced. “Why would you have him here, in this office, in a place where your reputation,
our
reputation, must be above repute?”

“We had argued. He came to apologize.” Zylphia leaned forward, rubbing her temples, sighing with relief when her mother stilled her pen. “I acted like a deranged harpy, insulting him.”

Delia settled against the back of her chair, the aged wood creaking with the movement. “You pushed him away. Or attempted to at least.”

Zylphia shrugged a shoulder in silent agreement.

“Do you like him? Does he interest you?”

“I’m not ready for a man like Teddy.” She blushed as her mother raised an eyebrow at the use of his nickname and at Zylphia’s inadvertent admission of the truth. “I want meaningless flirtations with men like Owen Hubbard. Men who’d never truly be interested in me.”

“And why wouldn’t Mr. Hubbard desire to become better acquainted with you?”

“You know as well as I do that no man of that social standing would want a wife with minimal social graces. Who spent her youth learning about the rough-and-tumble realities of life while living in an orphanage.”

“I think you do yourself and any man who paid attention to you a disservice. You assume no man would be interested in you below the surface. Or beyond what he believes your father could help him attain.”

Zylphia remained silent as her mother watched her.

Delia raised a challenging eyebrow to her daughter. “You claim it’s because you don’t want to be a wife, but I think you do so to prevent disappointment on your part.”

Zylphia’s mutinous blue eyes glared at her mother.

“Rather than dare to dream.”

“It’s better to accept reality as it is.”

“No, Zylphia. That’s not who you are. You’re allowing your fears to limit your ability to see a future where you aren’t alone. For if that were truly how you felt, if you were a realist as you proclaim you are, you’d never agitate for women to obtain full rights of citizenship. It’s as though you are willing to accept less for yourself but not for women in general.” When Zylphia flinched, Delia gentled her voice. “I find that tragic for you, my talented, brilliant daughter.”

“It’s easy for you to say, when things have resolved so well for you.”

“No need to become spiteful. And I know you’d never resent the return of your father.” She tapped a finger on the desk. “Do you think I regretted having met Aidan? For my relationship with him, even though I had years alone afterward?” A tender smile washed over her face. “During moments when I wasn’t consumed with grief, or concerns over the orphanage or you, I remembered our interactions. I gave thanks that, although our time together was brief, I’d had that time with him.

“I won’t lie to you, Zee, and say it was easy to trust him again. To trust in him. That he wouldn’t suddenly disappear again. He’s never given me, or you, a reason to doubt him since his return eleven years ago.”

Zylphia raised a hand to her face, wiping away a tear. “I know. And yet I still think the only person I should count on is me.”

“Then I believe you will be very lonely. And, I fear, you’ll come to rue that belief.”

T
eddy pushed
into a room that was never occupied and peered inside to see who had trespassed. Curtains covered the long windows lining one side of the rectangular room, dimming the bright afternoon sun. No furniture filled this room, and the wooden floors gleamed where the sunlight slipped past the curtains. He gripped his hands, unable to hold back a growl of frustration as he saw who was wandering the room. “What are you doing in here?” His sharp question rent the stillness of the room as he strode into the long, dimly lit gallery, his polished shoes clicking on the wooden floor.

Zylphia spun to stare at him, her gaze unfocused. “Teddy—Mr. Goff. Forgive me.”

“You have no right to be in here.” He reached for her arm as though to tow her from the room. “And you know by now to call me Teddy when it’s just the two of us.”

She dug in her heels and leaned away from him. “Your mother invited me to come study the paintings in your collection.”

“Yes, but this is our private collection. Not for anyone but family to see. What she had in mind is next door.”

Zylphia blanched. “I beg your pardon. I had begun to think your mother was mistaken in her belief she owned a Constable.”

“No, we own one. It’s next door.” He tilted his head to an adjacent room behind the wall where one of the late British master’s paintings was on private display. “Come.” He grasped her arm and tugged her in that direction.

Zylphia shook her head, her eyes transfixed by a painting. “Who are these young men? They look like younger versions of you, but I’ve never met a brother. Are they your uncles?”

Teddy’s gray eyes hardened as his body stiffened. He released her arm, his fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on his thigh, all the while refraining from looking at the portrait. “No, that’s a picture of me with … with … He was my brother. My twin. Lawrence.”

“Was?” She reached forward and brushed a hand down his arm, eliciting a subtle shudder.

“Yes.” He closed his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze.

“What happened, Teddy?”

“It’s not something I discuss.”

“Talk to me, Teddy.” She ran a soothing hand down his arm again, provoking another shudder. “I know we’ve had our differences, but I still want to be your friend.”

He glared at her as she spoke.

“I think you could use a friend, Teddy. I know I do.”

He studied her gaze for a moment before looking away again. She made a small sound of distress, but, instead of moving away from her, he reached forward and gripped her hand as he spoke in a low voice. “Lawrence and I shared everything. Toys, ideas, homework. Dreams for the future.” His voice dipped. “Measles.” He cleared his throat. “I hadn’t even realized I was ill until, all of a sudden, I was bedbound. Everything hurt, and I couldn’t bear to open my eyes. I remember darkness, and Larry on the other side of the door, reading to me, and telling me jokes and stories. He entertained me as I slowly improved, ensured I wasn’t alone, even though I was ill at boarding school.

“I was quarantined but not well enough.” His voice rang with bitterness. “I woke up one morning feeling better only to realize my roommate was Larry. And he was more ill than I’d ever been. He had a brain fever and died within days.”

“Oh, Teddy, I’m so sorry. At least you were with him, and he wasn’t alone.”

He shook his head violently. He saw the far distant scene, of him in his weakened state clawing at the doctor, fighting to remain next to Larry. Of him pounding on the door, kicking and screaming for entrance. He took a deep breath, his voice shattered. “He was. Alone, that is. When they realized how sick he was, they banned me from the room. They didn’t want me to see him suffer.”

Zylphia watched him with rounded eyes. “That’s the worst thing they could have done, isn’t it?” His nod of agreement at her whispered question caused her to fight a sob.

“My grandparents were summoned. I was excused from exams because of his death and my illness, and sent off for my mourning period.”

Zylphia grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers, as he looked at a space over her shoulder. When he didn’t respond to her gentle touch, she pushed herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’s not your fault he died.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“I know. It’s the measles’ fault. It’s the luck of the draw. I
know
that. But it doesn’t take away my missing him or wishing him back. Wishing he were here to enliven my days.” He shuddered as he finally moved to hold Zylphia close. “It’s been nearly twenty years since he died. I miss him, every day.” He took a stuttering breath. “He’d be sorely disappointed in who I’ve become.”

“Why? What were you like before he died?” She stroked a hand down his back.

“We were known as the Goff Gale. We were hellions and proud of it. My father encouraged us to daring feats, and we loved innocent pranks. There’s nothing we wouldn’t have done for a laugh.” He sighed, lowering his face into her hair, relaxing as he breathed deeply. “We knew what the other was thinking without having to speak. He was brilliant at arts and languages, and I preferred science. Together we could accomplish anything.”

“And alone?”

“It’s as though I’m always searching for my best friend. And yet I know I’ll never find him because I’ve already lost him.”

“That’s unutterably sad,” Zylphia whispered as she sniffled. “I know my words are useless, but I’m so sorry, Teddy. I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone I love.” She eased away but his hold tightened.

“Thank you for easing my torment, even if only in a small way,” Teddy murmured.

“I can’t stand that you hurt like this.” She leaned back, swiping her palm at his damp cheeks.

“Why are you really here, Zee?” His gray eyes glowed with intense curiosity and emotion. “We’ve avoided each other for the better part of a month. I don’t understand why you’d come to my house now.”

She stiffened, dropping her hand to his arm, as her blue eyes became guarded. “For art of course.”

“There’s no reason for you to be here. If you wanted to see decent art, you would have visited the Museum of Fine Arts, not my mother’s haphazard collection based on personal taste rather than any merit on the artists’ part.”

“I’ve been to that museum more times than I can count. I wanted to see something new.”

“Why not ensure I was out before you called?”

“You’re never out,” Zylphia said irritably. “Besides, I assumed if I didn’t disturb you in your laboratory, you wouldn’t even know I was here.”

“Did you want to see me?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Of course not!” Zylphia flushed and then paled as his hold on her arms loosened. This time she held on tight. “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to see the paintings, not act like some … some floozy who can’t even make up her own mind.”

Teddy’s eyes flashed with humor as he pulled her close. “Do you even know what that means?” he asked, a hint of amusement and relief in his voice and eyes as she shook her head no. “Then I wouldn’t banter it around in good company.” He grinned at her. “Do you desire my company?”

“Teddy, I like you. You know I do—”

He swooped down, moving his hands from her arms to the nape of her neck to hold her in place as he kissed her. His lips pressed firmly on hers, deepening the kiss on her sigh of pleasure. He stroked a hand through her hair, freeing it from its pins, and massaged her scalp as he pulled her more tightly to him.

Zylphia clung to him, her hands fisted in his coat, her knuckles turning white as she kissed him back. She moaned as he broke the kiss and peppered her jawline and neck with kisses. She arched to give him better access, allowing one of his hands to move down her chest, cupping her breast. She gasped, her eyes flying open to meet his intense gaze. His eyes were like molten silver, and she shivered into his touch before arching farther away. “No, no.” She pushed against him roughly, startling him, while she tripped and fell backward, landing on her bottom with a loud thud.

“Zee!” He dropped to his knees by her side but refrained from touching her as she held up a hand to ward him off.

“Stop. Just stop,” she gasped, hating that her voice wavered and had emerged as a weak plea.

“I’d never hurt you, Zee,” he said with a frown as he watched her struggle to stand without any help from him. “I’ll always respect what you desire.”

“Don’t, Teddy.” Zee turned around, brushing away tears.

“Why would … caring for me be so horrible?” he asked, suddenly irate. “How can you go from desiring my touch one moment, craving it even, to looking at me with such loathing the next?”

“I don’t loathe you, Teddy. I loathe myself,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t want this. I need to focus on my goals. On what I want to accomplish in my life.”

“And being loved doesn’t enter into that equation?” He blanched after his words emerged and backed up a step. His expression hardened, and he became increasingly distant as he watched her collect hairpins off the floor. He glared at her as she styled her long raven hair into a neat chignon, pushing in pins to keep it in place and transforming into the remote woman of society again.

“I value your friendship, Teddy,” Zylphia whispered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Did you find my kisses any more satisfactory this time than the last? Are you hoping to have the opportunity to compare them with your other beau?”

“That’s cruel,” she breathed. “That’s beneath you.”

“Just as this is beneath you. Beneath us.”

“I can’t be what you want. What you believe you need.” Zylphia blinked rapidly, but tears tracked down her cheeks.

He shook his head in frustration. “You of all people could be whatever you wanted to be. The agony is realizing you refuse to want to be what I want. What I need.” He spun on his heels and marched toward the door, flinging it open. He turned to her, raking his gaze over her. “I’m sure you can find your way out as you were intrepid enough to discover this room.” He spun, the diminishing sound of his footsteps a sign of his retreat to another part of the house.

Zylphia collapsed to the floor, a quiet sob escaping as she traced her lips with her fingers. She willed the gentle shaking to stop as she rose, departing with as little notice as possible.

* * *

T
eddy alit
from his automobile and paused when he recognized the auto behind him. He waited as it rolled to a halt, before opening the passenger door, nodding to Owen’s chauffeur.

“Good to see you, Goff,” Owen Hubbard said as he gripped Teddy’s hand.

Teddy inclined his head in acknowledgment. Owen smiled a triumphant smile as he turned toward his automobile and held out a hand for Zylphia. He placed a proprietary hand to her back as he propelled her up the marble stairs into the Opera House. Teddy followed, hiding a glower, as Zylphia turned back to smile at him.

“I’m delighted you could join our group,” she said to Teddy. “Miss Clement and Miss Tyler are also joining us.”

“Delightful,” Teddy murmured in a near growl.

“I hadn’t realized opera was to your taste,” Owen said as he helped Zylphia from her burgundy velvet cape. She slipped a gloved hand through his elbow, her burgundy skirts with black lace overlay swirling around her ankles, and began the slow walk down the long hallway and the stairs to their box.

“I delight in many things,” Teddy said as he tugged on the black jacket sleeve of his tuxedo. He half smiled at Zylphia’s attempt to hide her laugh behind a cough, meeting her amused gaze. His amusement faded as she walked up the white marble staircase with Owen, leaving Teddy to walk behind them alone.

Upon their arrival, Parthena and Rowena were already in the luxurious box. Scallop-shaped light fixtures infused a gentle light throughout the space, while the rich red velvet fabric, mahogany wood of the seats and the gold-filigreed wallpaper added to the sense of elegance. Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Tindall moved to welcome the newcomers and signaled a waiting attendant for glasses of champagne.

“Do you know much about this opera, Goff?” Morgan Wheeler asked as he glanced into the cavernous opera house.

“No, although it must be popular as it seems to have sold out,” Teddy said, nodding to the rapidly filling seats below.

“It’s
Madame Butterfly
. Of course it would sell out. It’s a masterpiece,” Parthena said with unveiled exasperation.

“Have you seen it before, Miss Tyler?” Morgan asked her.

“I have, in New York City at the Metropolitan.”

“I imagine it was much grander there than here,” Teddy said with an amused raise of his eyebrows.

She laughed. “You’d be surprised. The stage here is just as big as the one there, if not larger. And the acoustics here are glorious.” She sighed with pleasure as the sounds of the orchestra tuning melded with the cacophony of myriad voices within the hall.

“I’d forgotten. You fancy yourself as something of a musician,” Morgan said, his mouth turned up in what could be interpreted as either a teasing smile or an attempt to hide a sneer.

Parthena glared at him. “I greatly enjoy music, yes. I play the piano.”

“Your mother should have a recital of sorts for you someday,” Morgan said, earning a snicker from Owen, who, while standing next to Zylphia and caressing her arm at frequent intervals, failed to pay full attention to her conversation with Rowena.