“I… don’t know what to say,” she murmured.
“You do not need to say anything. Just listen.” Taking her hand he led her to the settee where he sat and gently tugged her hand until she settled next to him. “I have something to tell you, Catherine. Something I’ve agonized over telling you, but after almost losing you tonight, I simply cannot wait any longer.”
Catherine stilled. Dear God, was he going to tell her he loved her? Or worse, ask her to marry him? “Andrew, I-”
“It’s about my past.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his normally steady eyes reflected such torment and pain that her heart squeezed in sympathy. “Clearly whatever you wish to say is very difficult for you, Andrew.” She laid her hand over his in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Please do not distress yourself. It is not necessary for you to tell me.”
His gaze shifted to her hand resting upon his. After several seconds, he shook his head, then rose to stand before her. “I wish with all my heart that it wasn’t necessary, but you have a right to know. I need for you to know.”
He seemed to brace himself, then met her gaze squarely. “When I left America eleven years ago, I did so because I’d committed a crime. I escaped the country to avoid being hanged.”
“Hanged?” she repeated weakly. “What had you done?”
His gaze did not waver. “I killed a man.”
If she hadn’t heard the words come from his mouth, she would have suspected her hearing was afflicted. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Was it an accident?”
“No. I deliberately shot him.”
“But why? Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because he killed my wife.”
Chapter 19
Today’s Modern Woman must be prepared to face the unexpected. Sometimes it can be delightful, such as a surprise gift from her lover, in which case a thank-you kiss is appropriate, which in turn may well lead to more delightfully unexpected things. Occasionally, however, the unexpected proves most unwelcome, in which case her wisest course of action is to say as little as possible, then quickly extricate herself from the situation.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
Andrew watched all the color leach from her face as she stared up at him in mute, wide-eyed shock. Memories he’d fiercely fought to keep buried for years roared to the surface. Now that he’d begun, and there was no turning back, he was desperate to finish.
He wanted to look at her, but he simply couldn’t stand still. Pacing before her, he said, “My father was the stablemaster for a very wealthy, influential man, Charles Northrip. Father and I lived in rooms above the stable, and I grew up on the estate. I loved it there. Loved being with the horses. When I was sixteen, my father died, and Mr. Northrip promoted me to stablemaster.”
He paused and looked at Catherine, who sat ramrod straight on the settee and regarded him through solemn eyes. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the mantel clock. After resuming his pacing, he continued, “Mr. Northrip had only one child, a daughter named Emily who was four years my junior. I mentioned her when we made the strawberry ice.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“Emily was painfully shy. Awkward. Clumsy and tongue-tied. All conditions worsened by the forceful personalities of her parents. The Northrips were dismayed at their daughter’s reserved ways. Emily was much more at home with horses than with people, and consequently she spent a great deal of time at the stables. Whenever her father would find her in one of the stalls or in the loft, he’d complain that he didn’t know what to do with her. How had he and his wife, two gregarious, friendly people, produced such an unsociable child who preferred animals over people? He said these things as if she were deaf, and I could see how much they hurt her. Over the years, a friendship blossomed between me, my father, and Emily.”
Memories he hadn’t allowed himself to resurrect for years rolled through him. “I’ll never forget the night my father died. I was standing in the stables, staring at his empty chair. I felt… gutted. And so alone. The next thing I knew, Emily was standing next to me. She slipped her little twelve-year-old hand into mine and told me not to worry. That I wasn’t alone because she was my friend, and that she’d be my best friend, if I’d like.” Nostalgia tightened his throat. “I told her that I’d like that very much. And over the next seven years the bond we’d formed strengthened. We truly were each other’s best friend.”
Pausing before the fireplace, he stared into the dancing flames. “Because he had no son to whom he could pass his business, Mr. Northrip was determined that Emily marry a man capable of running his enterprise, and he believed he’d found such a man in Lewis Manning, the only son of another wealthy merchant. A marriage-to say nothing of a lucrative business merger-was arranged. Emily accepted this, knowing it was her duty to marry in accordance with her father‘s wishes. She was actually relieved she’d finally be doing something her father approved of after disappointing him her entire life.
“But I soon learned that Lewis Manning possessed a violent temper. One night, only several days before the wedding, Emily came to me, crying, in pain from what turned out to be a cracked rib. Although there was not a mark upon her face, the rest of her-where the blows wouldn’t show-was bruised where Lewis had beat her for daring to question one of his decisions. She told me then that while this was the first time he’d hurt her this badly, Lewis had lost his temper several times before and struck her. She’d told her father about those earlier instances, but he’d dismissed her concerns, saying that all men occasionally lose their tempers. After this last instance, however, Emily feared that the next time Lewis flew into a rage she might not be able to get away from him.”
He pulled his gaze from the fire and looked at Catherine, who was listening with rapt attention. “My first instinct was to tear Lewis apart, but Emily begged me not to. Said I would only be imprisoned for my trouble and that Lewis wasn’t worth it. I reluctantly agreed, but I was determined to protect her-from that bastard Lewis, and her father, who obviously cared more about the connection this marriage would make than his daughter. And the only way I could think of to do that was to marry her myself. We both knew she’d be giving up everything, as her father would be furious and surely disown her, but so be it. We left that night and eloped.”
Again he could not remain still and resumed his pacing. “The next day, after settling Emily at a nearby inn, I went to see her father. I wanted to tell him about the marriage face-to-face, and let him know that further harm to Emily would not be tolerated. He was, as expected, incensed. He said he would have the marriage annulled and intended to see me charged with kidnapping and hanged. When I told him there were no grounds for an annulment, his fury doubled. Said that one way or another he’d get his daughter back, even if it meant seeing me dead. I didn’t doubt for a moment that he meant what he said. I returned to the inn. Shortly afterward, as we were preparing to depart, an enraged Lewis Manning arrived. He said hateful, disgusting things about Emily, and my patience reached its limit. He informed me that he did not intend to wait for justice-he wanted to see the job done immediately, and he challenged me to a duel. I accepted despite Emily’s pleas not to.”
He continued on, the words coming faster now. “The Northrip’s groundskeeper, Adam Harrick, was my closest friend besides Emily, and he served as my second. At the duel, unbeknownst to me, Lewis cheated by turning to fire before the full count was made. Emily, who was supposed to have remained at the inn, saw his treachery. In an attempt to warn me, she ran forward… and was hit by Lewis’s shot.”