Page 2 of Mine This Winter
And she needed answers.
Keeping the drawing room door in her sights, she put one unsteady foot in front of the other and crossed the room.
Don’t look at him.
Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re ruffled.
She walked past him, the force of his magnetic pull thrumming in the air between them. Simon Garrick made her feel alive. Just being in his presence did strange things to her insides.
“Gwendolyn,” he whispered in the low, husky voice she often heard in her dreams.
Gwendolyn.
An exceptional woman needs an exceptional name.
But she didn’t stop to acknowledge the man who had hurt her so cruelly. Words could not mend a broken heart. Excuses could not erase the five years spent lost and alone in utter confusion.
With a renewed sense of purpose, she strode across the hall to her brother’s study. The door was ajar, and she knocked before marching inside and closing it behind her.
Oliver sat perched on the edge of the desk, rubbing his jaw as if the action might atone for the fact he’d welcomed Lucifer into their home.
“Did you know Mr Garrick had returned to Whitehaven?” Blood charged through her veins but she fought to maintain a calm tone.
“No. He was the last person I expected to see when Flanders called me to the door. Garrick is in Whitehaven on business. The heavy snowfall means he’s stranded.” Oliver gritted his teeth. “He’s to stay here until the roads are passable.”
“Stay here?” Sleep mere feet from her bedchamber? “But Whitney Grange is a ten-minute walk. Why can’t he stay there?” Because he was leaving again and planned to ruin Gwen’s life for another five years.
“The house has been empty since his father died. There are no servants, no provisions. How could I refuse him?”
“Is that why you’re so agitated?”
“I’m not agitated.”
Gwen grinned. “You’re nibbling your nails. You only nibble your nails when there’s a problem.”
“I’m not nibbling my nails.” Oliver motioned to the door. “I wanted things to go smoothly, and Garrick is too uncouth for my liking. He’s bound to rile the guests.”
There was nothing uncouth about Simon Garrick.
Yes, he took what he wanted without compunction. He dominated a room, made every other man seem weak and insignificant. And he did it all with an air of grace and sophistication.
“I hoped you’d choose a husband this week.” Oliver spoke as if she were baggage he needed to offload. “You said you would consider all the eligible men I’ve invited.”
Gwen pursed her lips to stifle a sigh.
Lord Bancroft was ten years her senior and a frightful bore. Mr Payne was obnoxious. Sir Robert Harris possessed an affable countenance and fell over himself to shower her with compliments.
None of them looked at her like Simon Garrick had. Like they wanted to devour every inch of her naked flesh. Like they could hear the sweet callings of her soul.
“I agreed to spend a week in their company, Oliver, nothing more.” The thought of marrying anyone filled her with dread. She should leave tonight, take the stage to the nearest convent and take a vow of chastity. “Do not force the issue.”
He brushed a hand through his mop of black hair. “You’re five and twenty, Gwen. You cannot afford to wait any longer.” Feeling a little guilty for his blunt manner, Oliver stepped forward and captured her hand. “You’re beautiful and charming. I don’t want you to waste away waiting for Mr Perfection to walk through the door and offer his hand.”
She closed her eyes briefly against an image of the handsome Mr Garrick. “I don’t seek perfection. I just want someone to love me. Someone I can love in return.” Someone who made her forget about perfect kisses and broken promises.
Oliver snorted. “Our kind cannot afford to wait for love, Gwen. Besides, love is nothing more than infatuation. Such emotions fade with time.”
And yet, five years felt as little as five seconds. The sad reality was little had changed for Gwen during that time.
