Page 132 of If the Slipper Fits
He had visited the quarry, where he made a cursory study of the newly arrived machinery. Afterward he rode an aimless path through the nearby village with a loose plan of searching out roads, rooftops, and buildings in need of repair. He barely took in what he saw.
In truth, he hadn’t left to satisfy any burning to desire to begin repurposing the quarry. He left because he feared what foolish thing he might do if he stayed—such as staring after Anna’s carriage like a lovelorn fool, or worse, chasing after it, ormuchworse, begging her not to leave him, period.
He trudged up the broad front steps, more weary than he could remember feeling in a long, long time. God willing, the rest of the household had all long since retired.
The front door swung. He looked up, hoping to see George, the earl’s longstanding butler. No luck. Kitty pounced the moment he cleared the top step.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever return. What are you going to do, Caden?”
“Do?” He knew, of course, she referred to Anna and their broken engagement. Not that they'd ever been engaged, according to Anna.
“You can't simply let her leave.”
“And yet, that is precisely what I did.”
She threw up her hands. “So you did, like a man who could not care less. Are you saying you don't love her?”
It was like taking a punch to the gut. He pushed past her, hastening to the grand staircase, which he climbed two steps at a time. “I’m not discussing this.”
She didn’t say another word, and he didn’t look back. He knew what he’d see if he did. Disappointment, and worst of all, pity.
***
Caden awoke early. Too early. He couldn't not. He was exhausted, having had not nearly enough sleep, but, like yesterday, the morning sun shone into the bedroom like a beacon.
He muttered under his breath, and rolled onto his side, away from the offending glare.
Home, sweet, home.
Two days ago, one day following Anna's defection from his life--he rather liked that word to describe her rejection of all he had to offer—he moved into the cottage where Anna and her parents had once lived, the cottage he'd demanded Zeke sign over to him when negotiating his and Anna’s future.
He’d intended to give it to her as a wedding present, after renovating. It hadn't been lived in for years and thus lacked updated bedding, curtains, furnishings—basically all the things that made a place comfortably habitable.
After her defection, he decided to take up residence immediately. He saw the dismal living arrangements as a sort of penance. Believing for one second his so-called inherent charm coupled with her evident attraction for him might entice Anna to marry him after her safety was no longer threatened had been pure foolishness on his part.
Worse, his family knew he’d been a fool, and, he suspected, also knew he’d fallen for the chit. That realization above all else drove him from Chissington Hall as fast as his legs could carry him. He couldn’t bear the piteous glances his family cast his way when they thought he wasn’t looking.
If they knew what he meant to do today—what hehadto do, because he couldn’t not—they’d really think him a candidate for bedlam. Perhaps he was.
He’d meant to sleep a bit longer, hoping a full night’s rest might enable him to put his best foot forward on his fool’s errand. Alas, further sleep eluded him.
He swung his legs over the edge of the lumpy mattress and noted the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee in the air, coming from downstairs. God bless Kitty who had insisted he accept the loan of a housekeeper and cook until he got his household up and running.
He splashed water on his face from the basin and reflected, not for the first time, on how dear was his brother's bride. The best thing that ever happened to Zeke, to their entire family, was Zeke finding and marrying Kitty.
Still, her too-keen insight, combined with her forthright tendency, sometimes made her insufferable. Like the day Anna left.
“Are you saying you don't love her?” He could still hear her asking.
No,his insides screamed in reply,I love her more than life. I need her more than the air I breathe.
And it hurt like hell.
He dressed in plain white sleeves and clean trousers and trotted barefoot down the stairs. Hot black coffee and something to stave off hunger, then he’d do what he had to do.
At the base of the stairs, he caught the sound of distinctly feminine humming. His heart slammed into his ribs before he could school himself.
Not Anna.Anna had left him.
