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The rain was unrelenting.
Conversation was stilted if it happened at all. Lucy maintained a grouchy attitude as the morning dragged on. Colin was grumpy too, and Ellen had fallen into a surly mood. The girl dozed, or at least she pretended to, while Lucy and Colin stared out the windows. It was all to the good, for she didn’t feel like talking—to either of them. The happiness from the unwanted children’s home had long faded beneath the dreariness of the day. Added to the effect was the fact that rain always made one of her molars ache.
He had made a mockery of the visit to the orphan’s home; it had ultimately taught him nothing. The viscount was grateful for his roguish life, instead of seeing that the holiday meant giving of himself. Christmas spirit was decidedly missing, and that brought about her ire.
Why did she even care what happened to him and whether he was happy with his life? They were nothing to each other. Not anymore. Perhaps they never were, for his chasing of coin and pleasure were greater than love for his fellow man.
For her.
She stifled a sob that welled up. Did she regret not being able to give the young man she remembered a proper goodbye? Mayhap she did. The break in their association had been abrupt and jarring, riddled with high emotion. Was that why he lingered in her mind after all this time? Lucy glanced at him, but Colin’s attention was at the window. He wore a frown that reflected in the deep furrow of his brow. She sighed and returned her focus to the passing, rain-drenched countryside.
In this, she had no answers, but somehow she needed to find a way to rise above the memories, for soon they would break her and then she’d run the risk of saying something stupid.
A couple of hours later, Colin nudged her foot with his. Tingles erupted in her lower belly. Such a foolish response every time he touched her, but she was powerless to stop it. Something in him called out to something in her, and probably always would.
She glanced at him, caught his gaze. Questions roiled in those lake-blue eyes and a trace of sadness. “Bored?” Why couldn’t she drop into sleep as easily as Ellen? Then she’d escape the inevitable conversation.
“On and off.” He shrugged. “But I have managed to observe one thing.” He didn’t drop her gaze. “You act as if we never had a shared past, as if we never meant anything to each other.” Accusation threaded through his low-pitched tone. “Why?”
“Why should I pay tribute to the past, when it’s just that?” She strove to keep her voice even, but outrage naturally made it rise. “Our future isn’t entwined. It never was in hindsight. Perhaps I refuse to remember that, which leads to what-ifs. There is not solace or peace down that path.”
“Thanks to you.” He crossed his arms at his chest and glared out the window.
At least the connection to his gaze broke and she could manage to breathe slightly easier. But the old hurt and anger stewed within her chest. Mayhap it was time to air the old grievance so they could both move on. She narrowed her eyes, looking at him slumped on the bench opposite, his clothing wrinkled and travel worn. “I’ve heard the rumors about you. When the gossip rags catch fire, it always seems you’re featured heavily in them.” Lucy paused, choosing her words. “You haven’t changed from the man you used to be. Why is that, I wonder?” Then she sucked in a quick breath. “Or rather, are you using that lifestyle to hide?” That made much more sense than him maintaining the image of a rake after all these years.
Colin snapped his gaze back to her. “I am not hiding.”
“No? Then what exactly are you hinting at? What is it you wish to say to me? Stop dithering and tell me.” She couldn’t stand the not knowing, the dancing about the words unsaid.
Ellen stirred in her sleep. She shifted her position, rested her head on Lucy’s shoulder but didn’t wake. Lucy, not knowing what else to do, slid her arm about the girl’s shoulders and cuddled her as she would with Beatrice. It wasn’t Ellen’s fault the world around her had gone rotten.
Finally, the man across from her spoke. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, and though his expression briefly softened as he flicked his gaze to his daughter, when he looked at Lucy, his eyes were once more hard as blue glass. “You betrayed me, Lucy.” His voice shook with emotion he didn’t share.
“How?” She frowned. “You made it clear what you valued above all else back then—coin and enterprise.” Her stomach muscles cramped, and her mind once more hurtled to that long ago winter’s day when he’d told her of his plans for the future, that he’d wished to invest everything he had to his name in coal and steam, for the possible returns would keep them warm and happy until they were old, that he’d need a few years to see the evidence of the risk.
Never once had he talked of living off their love or knowing the struggling years ahead of them would be all right as long as they were together. He only cared about living large if his investments paid off... later.
“I’m not talking about that,” he hissed with a glance toward his sleeping daughter. Colin sat back against the squabs, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You betrayed me by letting my best friend court you. You married him, consented to share his life, bear his children, and he had precious little to his name, the same as me.” Those words rang in the chilly air between them. “How the hell do you think that made me feel?”
Lucy sucked in a breath. She hadn’t considered the matter in those terms. Yes, Jacob had been just as poor as Colin, but the difference had been Jacob wanted her despite the challenge. He didn’t wish to put off their wedding until his coffers came about. “Oh Colin, I’m so sorry.” She almost touched his knee, but her courage failed her. Instead, she kept her voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. “It was nearly two years after you and I parted, after you told me we couldn’t wed until you’d made enough coin to show your father he was wrong.”
“I did.”
Did he refer to her statement or the fact that he had earned a fortune in his own right? Not knowing, she plunged onward. “Once you’d gone back to London and had made yourself into a rake, I...” She swallowed hard. “I was lost.”
“A direct result of being stubborn, Lucy.” He shrugged, the perfect picture of negligence and nonchalance, his glower firmly in place. “The ladies I keep company with don’t mind who I am or how I act.”
She shook her head as cold disappointment wrapped around her spine. “It’s an empty life, and if you gave it any thought, you would agree. You are not that man, deep down.”
Emotion flickered in his eyes, gone so quickly she couldn’t read it. “You’re wrong. A rake is what I am and it suits me.”
“I doubt that.” But what sort of man was he beneath that false veneer?
They lapsed into silence for a handful of miles, and with each turn of the coach’s wheels, Lucy battled the urge to cry. She kept her lips pressed tightly together. Had she made him into what he’d become?
“Jacob came to me before he asked for your hand.” His voice is rough and the raspy sound yanked her from the tortured musings.
“Oh?” Shock moved through her chest. Her husband had never told her that.
Colin gave a terse nod. “He asked my permission to marry you. Said he owed it to me, though you and I had been parted for some time. Tried to tap into our old friendship.”
A gasp escaped her. “Did you give it?”
“No.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Jacob wasn’t the one for you.”
Despite the shock that Jacob had kept such a secret from her, anger swept in, pouring over her in an engulfing hot wave. “That wasn’t your decision.” She laid her free hand in her lap, but it shook and she attempted to hide the tell by pleating her skirt. “I was nothing to you by that time. You had certainly shown me that by your actions.”
“What the devil does that mean?”
“You said you wouldn’t marry me until you’d made your fortune.” She hated that her voice shook with emotion, but at least she hadn’t burst into tears. “I had no choice but to move on. Jacob comforted me. He consistently reached out, wrote letters, called on me to make certain I was doing well. Things naturally progressed between us.”
No wonder Jacob had never seen Colin after he and she had wed. He’d been angry or embarrassed. Perhaps defeated. She’d always wondered, but Jacob had preferred to remember the happy memories.
Colin’s eyes flashed blue fire. Tension crackled between them. “You turned me down, Lucy, then married him. Didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me.”
“How could I? You were gone.” Tears sprang into her eyes. She rapidly blinked them away, for she refused to cry. “Due to your insane plans that you insisted upon, that would have delayed our wedding.” She moistened her lips. “You were obsessed with money. I was lost beneath that urge. Jacob wanted me above the wealth.”
He shifted restlessly on his bench. “I wanted to make a fortune, this is true, for I refused to rely on my father or ask him for a farthing. I wanted to make a comfortable life that was worthy of you.” Honesty reflected in his eyes, and he quickly transferred his gaze out the window. “I wanted to give you everything you should have had in life.”
I never knew that. What was left of her heart concerning him, broke. “Why didn’t you tell me that? A simple explanation at the time would have gone a long way.”
“Would it have changed your mind? There was more at play between us than finances.” When she didn’t answer, he kept his focus on the window and remained silent.
Beside her, Ellen shifted her position but didn’t wake. Lucy stroked the girl’s hair, as much to calm herself as it was for Ellen.
“Oh, Colin. If you had simply told me everything.” Those dratted tears welled up again. “I wanted the man you were before...”
He scoffed, bitterness solid in that utterance. “Penniless, without direction, spoiled?”
“No.” Lucy shook her head. “You were those things, of course, but you were also content, optimistic, joyful, loving, a dreamer.” That man was who had won her heart. “Your eyes used to sparkle as if you knew Christmas every day.”
“It was a long time ago. We cannot change what happened.” He caught her gaze again. A trace of hopelessness clouded his gaze. “Christmas of the past is gone as well. It’s only for the innocent, the young.”
“We would have been happy together,” she whispered as she battled back the tears.
“Perhaps, but we would have been poor. I couldn’t risk it, and such a life wasn’t fitting for the son of a duke.” He lowered his voice. “I refused to fail and listen to my father’s lectures, couldn’t bear to see his smugness for the son he thought wouldn’t succeed without his influence. He expected me to come crawling back to ask for assistance.”
That was something else she’d not known of him. His pride and hers had worked in tandem to drive them apart. We’re both guilty. Unable to hold them back any longer, she let the tears fall to her cheeks. Though she was mortified to show such emotion in front of him, she managed to force out, “I guess we’ll never know what could have been.” Then she took refuge by rooting through her reticule for her handkerchief, hard to do using one hand. Where the devil had it gotten off to?
The minutes ticked by in an agonizing fashion and finally, he handed her his handkerchief of pristine ivory lawn. “Here.” He pressed the square into her hand and curled her fingers around the fabric. “You never could find yours when you needed it,” he said, all traces of annoyance and anger gone. Only regret pooled in his eyes, gone the moment she looked closer.
“I still cannot. I’m forever losing them,” she laughed as she dabbed at her tears. BayRum and cloves with a hint of citrus clung to the square, and that made the poignancy of the moment that much greater. How many times had she put her nose to his neck just above his cravat to revel in that same smell?
“I apologize for making you cry, Lucy,” he said quietly. Honesty rang in his voice, but his eyes were sad. “It wasn’t well done of me. I’d wanted to hurt you as you’d hurt me. It was a stupid gambit, and it won’t happen again. You have my word, for what’s it’s worth.”
“It’s all right.” Yet surprise twisted in her chest at the admission. “These last few days have been trying and I am on edge.” Once she’d gotten control of her emotions, she met his gaze. Crying had been somewhat cathartic. No longer would her feelings rip her apart. The truths revealed brought her closer to calm as well. “What is the true purpose of this trip, Colin? Why are you really going home?”
He heaved a sigh that sounded as if it had come from his toes. “I merely wish to see my family, rub along well enough without causing animosity, and hope they leave me in peace more often than not.” His voice was raw and ragged. Perhaps he needed an outlet for his emotions, too.
“Father?” Ellen moved into an upright position and looked with sleepy eyes between them. “You are speaking of going home, to Lancaster Hall?”
“Yes.” Colin nodded.
She yawned. “You’re a liar. You hope to arrive home in time to win Grandpapa’s wager.”
“What?” Lucy bounced her gaze from him to the girl. Annoyance gripped her and dried the remainder of her tears. Had she wasted time crying over him? “Was that the real reason for our early flight this morning?” How foolish could she be to fall for his explanations?
“No, truly.” He extended a hand to her, but when she narrowed her eyes, he let it drop to his lap. “We left early this morning for the exact reason I told you.” Was that panic lining his expression? Why?
Ellen’s laughter trilled through the coach’s interior, a horrible contrast to the mood therein. “You look ready to cry, Father. Have I said something wrong?”
“I never cry, child.” Colin’s glower was back in place as he settled more comfortably on his bench, his arms crossed at his chest.
“You do so!” The girl argued. “Sometimes at night I hear you sobbing.”
“It’s none of your concern,” he said and a warning growled through the response. Colin met Lucy’s gaze. His was as haunted as Ellen had claimed the day before. When Lucy attempted to question him, he held up a hand. “Don’t. It is not a subject I wish to discuss.”
Why was the topic of him giving into an excess of emotion so distasteful to him? Lucy exchanged a glance with Ellen, who shrugged.
“I’m hungry, Father. Could we please stop for luncheon soon?” Ellen sighed. “And I require exercise. Sitting in this coach is wearing on my nerves.”
“I’ll allow a stop in an hour.” Then Colin closed his eyes and rested his head against the squabs. “Will this trip never end? Truly, this has become hell.”
Lucy once more dabbed at her eyes to collect residual moisture. She breathed in his familiar scent and flutters once more erupted in her belly. What has happened to you, Colin? Why wouldn’t he talk candidly to her? Had she made the wrong decision all those years ago when she’d refused his suit? She rested her gaze upon him with a frown. If she had, it couldn’t be helped. As she’d told him before, their lives were no longer intertwined. What was done was done. After the Christmas house party, he’d go home to London and she’d remain in Derbyshire.
The fact caused her heart to beat ever quicker, not from excitement but in alarm. It was so final. How could she expect to live knowing she’d probably never have the opportunity to see him again?