The Christmas Heiress (8 page)

Jonathan shrugged again. "Do not flatter yourself,
brother," he said. "Not everyone in England is all
that interested in your affairs. Truth be told, you are
known to be a rather boring fellow, with an unenviable reputation for being stodgy and straightlaced."

'Which is precisely what makes the scandal even
more entertaining," Edward countered, his mouth
twisting into a grimace.

Jonathan watched him speculatively. "Did she
break your heart?"

"No. Merely wounded my pride." Edward was
quiet for a moment, focusing his gaze on the rain
that pelted one of the nearby windows. "I'll admit I
did not know her very well, but I liked her. She was
never silly or giddy, like so many young debutantes
one meets these days. Whenever we were together,
we were always able to converse on a wide variety of
topics, anything from art and music to architecture
and history.

"Her observations were thoughtful and perceptive and I believed we were slowly building a rapport. But what assured me most about our future
life together was my belief that Henrietta was a sensible young woman."

Jonathan moved closer and set a comforting
hand on Edward's shoulder. "Well, she was sensible
enough not to marry you, especially when she was
in love with someone else."

Edward was momentarily taken aback to hear the
words spoken aloud. Henrietta had been in love
with another man while engaged to him. And even
worse, Edward had been blissfully unaware of it.
She was the woman he had chosen to spend the
rest of his life with, believing they were a well-suited
pair, yet he had gotten it all terribly wrong. How
could he have been so blind?

"If you tell me 'tis all for the best, I shall punch
you in the nose," Edward told his brother, attempting to lighten the mood.

"It is for the best. And if it makes you feel any better,
go ahead and punch me."Jonathan slowly lowered
himself to the chair on the other side of Edward's
desk. "I think living the rest of your life without love is
a very sad business. You deserve better, Edward."

Edward was humbled by his brother's support.
Leave it to Jonathan to get to the heart of the
matter with such lethal efficiency.

"I feel like such a fool," Edward admitted. "As I
look back upon it now, I realize there were clues
suggesting that Henrietta might have been coerced
by her family into accepting my offer. I imagine she
must have felt manipulated and helpless. But I
never bothered to pursue the matter with her."

"I suppose you could have asked her," Jonathan
said. "Based on what you have said about her, I have
a feeling she might have confessed the truth."

"Maybe I did not want to hear the truth," Edward
muttered.

He paced the floor, back and forth between the
windows, and tried not to think too hard upon the
matter. It was simply too distressing.

"You need to come home, Edward,"Jonathan sub
gested. "It will do you good to get away from London,
away from the gossip."

"Home? To Farmington Manor?" Edward ceased
pacing. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus. "Why
go back? So Mother may gloat at my misfortune? I
imagine that will lift her spirits enormously."

"Edward, that is unkind and untrue."

Edward sighed. Jonathan was wrong. His mother
would delight in hearing that his fiancee had jilted
him days before the intended nuptials. It was exactly the type of perverse revenge that would bring
her pleasure, a just punishment for all the supposed wrongs he had heaped upon her head, for
all the humiliation she was reported to be suffering
by his "defection."

For years Edward had been relieved that Jonathan
knew none of the ugly details concerning the rift between himself and their parents. But at times such
as this, his brother's lack of knowledge was a real
hindrance. For if Jonathan knew all, he would know
what he was suggesting was ludicrous.

"Returning home will serve no useful purpose,"
Edward stated flatly. "Besides, I do not want to
appear so wounded by this incident that I am forced
to flee Town rather than face my business associates or partake of any of the social events of the ton. It
smacks of cowardice."

Jonathan's snort was loud, yet elegant. "Then why
did you tell Crenshaw to admit no one to your office?"

That drew a reluctant, embarrassed grin from
Edward. "I am not hiding."
--- - - - - -- -- - - -- - -

His brother kindly did not challenge the remark
they both knew was a lie.

"Come home with me, Edward. It has been years
since you visited the estate,"Jonathan said, his voice
quiet but unmistakably reproachful. "Now that
Father is gone, you are the earl and everyone depends upon you. You support us all financially, but
'tis important for the tenants and servants to know
that you care enough about the estate to take a personal interest. And I truly believe Mother would be
quite pleased to see you."

"And I know the opposite to be true." Edward
looked at the ceiling so his brother would not see the
exasperation in his eyes. "After years of silence,
Mother and I have finally managed to form an
uneasy truce. Now is certainly not the time to upset
it. The very last thing I need in my life is more female
drama."

"She misses you," Jonathan insisted.

She wishes me in hell. Fortunately, Edward caught
himself before he spoke his thoughts aloud. "I send
her a letter every month, telling her the same inane
things in the same formal, distant and proper tone.
She replies in kind." A bitter half smile touched his
lips. "It has become so routine that the paragraphs
practically write themselves. 'Tis only the order of
them that varies each month. And of course, our re porting of the current weather changes with
the seasons."

He could tell by Jonathan's puzzled expression
that his brother was having a hard time grasping all
the implications of that statement.

"I knew Mother and Father were hardly enamored with your decision to work, but we all know it
saved the family. Father's death occurred so soon
after your business was established. We would have
been in dire straits without the infusion of funds you
were able to supply to the family coffers and stave
off the creditors. "Jonathan stared across the desk at
him. "Forgive me for not realizing that things were
still so strained between you and Mother."

Edward heaved a weary sigh. Ever since he had
stormed from the house in defiance of his parents
six years ago, he knew exactly what he wanted: to be
rich and successful beyond anyone's expectation, to
own more profitable businesses than any other man,
more property than the queen, to create an empire
that exceeded all others and prove, without any
question, his worth to the parents who had doubted
his choice. He had spent every day in single-minded
determination toward successfully accomplishing
that goal.

It hurt deeply that his mother refused to acknowledge his success. But that was not the entire reason
for the chasm between them. She had no difficulty
spending the generous allowance he deposited in
the bank for her each quarter.

She apparently had come to terms with his highly
unfashionable business career by telling the extended family and her friends that his interest in finance was merely a hobby. Amazingly, this seemed perfectly credible to them. Clearly, they never read
the financial section of the newspapers.

"It is more than my chosen profession that distresses our mother," Edward admitted.

Jonathan opened his mouth, then closed it. "I
know you quarreled after Father's funeral."

Edward's chin shot up in surprise. "Did she tell
you about it?"

"No, I heard your voices that day, raised in anger, but
could not distinguish the words that were spoken."

"Thank God for that small mercy." Edward closed
his eyes, remembering the bitter hurt and anger
in his mother's voice, the malice of her words. It
was so difficult, so painful reliving those moments.
"Trust me, our mother is far happier if I stay away
from her."

Jonathan's mouth twitched at one corner. "She
was distraught, overcome with grief and fear. We had
just buried Father. Of course she was emotional. 'Tis
to be expected."

Edward swallowed hard. "She accused me of
killing him."

"What? Father died of a heart condition. The
doctors insisted there was nothing that could have
been done to save him."

"She said I brought him to the brink of ruin, that
I knowingly drove him to despair," Edward choked.
"That I had abandoned my responsibilities, disgraced the family, had in essence broken his heart.
She blamed me for his death and stated most emphatically that she would never forgive me."

Saying the words out loud brought on a rush of
feelings. The deep sadness. The horrendous guilt.
A part of him had known it was grief that had driven his mother to lash out, yet another part had also
given credence to her words.

Ten months. Within ten months of his refusing
to follow his parents' dictates and marry Charlotte
Aldridge, his father had died. Who knew, perhaps
his actions had contributed to the heart condition
that took the earl's life?

Edward remembered vividly how he felt when he
heard the news. Grief-stricken and in shock, he had
returned home to bury his father and assume the
title. He had just completed his first major real estate
deal, and was poised to acquire a very profitable
cotton mill, but the elation of his financial triumph
was overshadowed by his personal loss and pain.

When his mother had asked for a private word with
him after the funeral, he had ironically expected her
to pressure him to abandon his business interests and
become a proper nobleman. Instead, she had accused him of causing his father's sudden attack.

The guilt, though deeply buried, was still present
after all these years, tearing at his gut and ripping
at his mind. Was it finally time to try to put these
demons to rest?

"You should have told me about Mother's outrageous accusations," Jonathan admonished.

Edward shook his head. "It would have been
unfair to pull you into the middle of it. Though we
never spoke of it, I think Mother felt the same way.
If you knew, you would be forced to take sides, and
we each needed you too much."

"Well, now that I know I am determined to mend
the rift."Jonathan's face was solemn, his gaze piercing.

Edward nearly winced at the idea. The very last
thing he wanted was to drag his brother into this mess. "'Tis best to leave it alone. Your involvement
might cause Mother's enmity toward me to increase
rather than dissipate."

A deep frown furrowed Jonathan's brow. "That's
a valid point. I can be of little help to you unless
Mother continues to believe I am a neutral party."

`Jonathan-"

"Don't argue."Jonathan rose to his feet. A determined light filled his eyes. "It will be Christmas in a
few weeks. 'Tis the perfect time for you to be at
home, celebrating the holiday with your family and
friends. I shall write to Mother today and tell her to
expect us both at the end of the week. Promise me
you will at least consider it?"

Edward answered with a noncommittal inclination of his head, but apparently the gesture was
enough to appease his brother. Jonathan sat back
down in his chair, then reached for one of the newspapers on Edward's desk.

His brother seemed instantly engrossed in the
front-page article, but Edward suspected Jonathan
was in fact giving him time to carefully consider this
suggestion. And also preparing a rebuttal when
Edward voiced his strong objections.

The truth was, Edward knew he needed a change.
He certainly couldn't concentrate on work. He was
restless, annoyed, on edge and for the first time in
many, many years, uncertain of himself. He had
always had the ability to focus intently on a task until
it was successfully accomplished. But his goal of becoming a married man was most definitely unattainable, thanks to his disappearing fiancee.

Whenever he made a business decision he analyzed
it thoroughly, considered every angle, every possible outcome. He did so with fact, and reason and experience. Sometimes with gut instinct. But never with
emotion, because it was such an unpredictable factor,
such an unreliable measure of a situation.

This approach had made him rich, had built him
an empire of money and power, had given him the
freedom to make choices in his life that few people
had ever dreamed they could. But has it made you
happy?

The thought came out of nowhere, shocking him
back to reality. He walked to the window again and
stared out at the rain. Perhaps what he needed was
to finally settle the past, to come to terms with all
the obligations of his heritage and somehow reconcile them with the man he had now become, the
man who some considered an enormous success,
based on his impressive bank balance.

Farmington Manor. The memory of his boyhood
home whispered softly through his head. The beautiful Tudor-style mansion that stood on hundreds of
acres of rolling hills, dense woods and tumbling
streams. The place he had always loved, where he
had always felt safe and happy. The reason he had
sacrificed so much and worked so hard, ensuring
that this glorious piece of his family history would
be preserved for future generations.

Perhaps Jonathan was right. Maybe it finally was
time to go home.

The day was sunny and cold. The trees were bare
of leaves, the grass a straw-colored brown. The air
smelled clean, crisp and unspoiled. The peaceful
quiet of the countryside was broken only by the
sounds of nature: the chirping of a winter sparrow,
the trickle of an icy stream, the rustling of the wind
through the stiff brush.

Edward reined in his mount on the high ridge
above the valley and gazed down at the structure
below. Sunlight glistened off the stone facade and
reflected off the many faceted glass windows. It
gave the place an eerie, otherworldly appearance,
as though it were somehow frozen in time.