Page 40 of With Love in Sight
Imogen stopped on the landing and looked at her. Not “Why didn’t you accept him?” but “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her heart swelled.
“I couldn’t, Mariah,” she said helplessly.
Mariah studied her for a long moment before nodding sagely. “Well, then,” she said briskly, “let’s get you ready to go.”
Chapter 17
The following morning began the longest day and a half of Imogen’s life.
She should have known Caleb planned on making things difficult for her the moment he stepped from his carriage. Ignoring everyone else, he approached her. Which was mortifying on its own. But then he reached out, gripping her fingers in full view of her family. While her cheeks burned he leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear, and whispered, “You left me no choice. You are mine now, you know, and I wasn’t about to let you go so easily.”
The words had made her shiver, and not just from apprehension.
She had done her best to pretend he did not exist during the long journey. But it seemed the harder she tried, the more aware of him she became. A bump of his leg here, a brush of his hand there, and the plush interior of the carriage seemed to shrink with each passing mile. His heated glances and small smiles told her more than words that he was fully aware just how he affected her. Even now, as he rode alongside the carriage for the final leg of the trip, she was not immune to him. He passed into view, and though she had determined to keep from seeking him out her traitorous eyes had other ideas. He caught her looking and gave her a roguish wink. She jerked her gaze from him, but even so the damage had been done to her already taut nerves. She squirmed in her seat.
“Are you well, Imogen?” her father asked over his book.
She blushed and adjusted her spectacles. “Yes, Papa.”
He glanced out the window, squinting at the bright landscape. “Lord Willbridge said we would be arriving late this afternoon. How lovely that Northamptonshire is not even two days out of London. And who knew it was so close to Frances’s home? It really is too bad she’s in Rutland just now. It would be wonderful to see her; we get that chance so rarely these days.” His voice trailed off, his brow lowering before he turned back to Imogen with a bracing smile. “We should be seeing the start of Lord Willbridge’s property shortly.”
Sure enough, the carriage rumbled to a stop and Caleb rode up to the window. “The gatehouse to our land is just a mile ahead of us, and then it is a mile to the house. I’ll ride on ahead to give them news of our approach and will see you there.”
Though his words sounded relaxed enough, cheerful even, there was a certain tightness to his eyes that gave her the impression all was not right. Not for the first time on the journey, she recalled their conversations regarding his family, and wondered why he was bringing her here. It was obvious it would be a difficult situation for him, given his strained relationships with his siblings. So why was he insisting on this trip?
Before she could think on it further he was off at a gallop and the carriage lurched forward to rumble at a more sedate pace in his wake.
“Splendid,” her father said with a happy sigh. “Cannot wait to stretch my legs. Never did like travel.” And then he was back to his book, and Imogen was able to stare at the passing scenery in peace, even as her insides roiled.
Only two more miles, she thought, listening to the carriage wheels eat up the distance. Two miles until she would see his home, the home she could be mistress of if only she could ignore her instincts and go along with her desires. Two miles until she would meet the family that could have been hers.
She had come to a sad realization after miles of road with nothing to occupy her mind except some novels that did not hold her attention. Though they had been traveling for the better part of two days, though her legs were cramped and her body was stiff from the confining—albeit, sumptuously appointed—interior of the carriage, she was still not ready to see Caleb’s home and meet his family. And she would most likely never be ready. To see these things, to have them in her memories, would only make the future all the more painful for her. Even though she was saving them both from an imprudent match and unhappy union, she would always know that, had she been any more selfish, she could have had these things for her own. And now the time was upon her, and there was no delaying it.
A short ten minutes later and they were passing the gatehouse. Then they were on his land, the distance between her and Caleb’s home closing by the second. Was it just her, she thought as panic began to set in, or were the horses going uncommonly fast? She was vaguely aware of her breath speeding up and her hands clenching at the seat beneath her. With utmost will she slowed her breathing and loosened her grip. Trying to distract her mind, she studied the passing landscape. The trees were enormous oaks, lining both sides of the road and shading the gravel drive as they no doubt had done for centuries. Beyond them she caught brief glimpses of open areas warmed by the sun, the hills green and rolling. And then the tree line opened.
Imogen had known his home would be a place of beauty. But she was quite unprepared for the scene that greeted her wide eyes. Beyond two soaring carved stone columns and a circular drive lay the house, the late afternoon sun lighting on the pale limestone of the Jacobean exterior. The mullioned windows sparkled under gracefully shaped gables. Front and center stood a small portico, and there was Caleb, smiling as they drove closer. Imogen felt an immediate welcome, a homecoming, and ruthlessly tried to squash the feeling. No good could come of being enamored with the house. It was bad enough she’d fallen in love with its owner.
The carriage made a circuit of the drive, rocking to a gentle halt before the entrance. Then the carriage door was thrown wide.
“Welcome to Willowhaven,” Caleb murmured, offering her his hand.
Imogen paused before she placed her shaking fingers in his and descended the steps. The gravel crunched under her boots, and then Caleb led her forward toward an intricately carved, heavy dark oak door that stood ajar. She was vaguely aware of her father being helped down behind her before Caleb guided her into the entrance hall.
The walls were paneled in the same beautiful dark wood as the door, giving an impression of intimacy and warmth. The floor was white marble interspersed with black marble diamonds, the ceiling painted white with dark beams running throughout. She walked as if in a trance by Caleb’s side, taking it all in. He moved them beyond the small entrance into a bright room with arched windows opening onto what seemed to be an interior courtyard. Delicate tables were set in alcoves, topped with vases overflowing with blooms. The heady aroma was a delicious addition to her senses. Against one wall stood a huge marble fireplace, a portrait of James I gracing the space above.
Imogen swallowed at the grand richness of it all. She could only be glad that her mother was not there. For Lady Tarryton would have been an embarrassment of fawning attention in the face of so much wealth and grandeur. Their family was aristocracy, and far from poor, but her mother had been a mere baronet’s daughter, and a snob for social position, and this would have sent her into raptures.
Lord Tarryton, on the other hand, stood silently beside his daughter, smiling affably at their host. Though her father was absentminded in his best moments, he would provide a silent support for her through this and would not embarrass her.
As the butler relieved them of their outerwear and instructed the footmen on the removal of their luggage from the carriage, as well as directions for their servants that had followed in a second, smaller carriage, Caleb spoke.
“Billsby will show you to your rooms now. We can meet before dinner in the small drawing room. I shall have a maid show you the way at the appointed time.”
Imogen felt a frisson of uncertainty travel down her spine. She could not place it until, as she turned with her father to follow the butler, she realized what it was.
She stopped and turned toward Caleb. He immediately went to her. “What is it?” he asked in concern.
“Is your mother Lady Willbridge in residence? I was given the impression that she was.”
