“I fear it hasn’t worked.” He cast her a wry smile.

“These brief moments have only served to make me want more. Another hour, another afternoon, a day, a week...forever.”

“My dear Henry.” She smiled and the sadness in her eyes twisted his heart. “We have made a dreadful mess of this.”

“I have,” he said staunchly. “I should have tried harder to find you. I should never have given up. I allowed myself to be sensible and rational and to decide those few hours with a lovely woman in a bookstore were nothing of true significance. I should have known better. My heart should have known better.”

“Hearts are notoriously incompetent when it comes to good judgment. Pity we must live with the consequences.” Her voice softened. “You’re a good man, Henry. The kind of man who honors his obligations. I don’t think I would feel about you the way I do if you weren’t. I don’t think I could.”

There was nothing he could say. She was right. His word was his bond.

Her gaze meshed with his. “I have never in my life wanted to throw myself into a man’s arms and yet with you, I can barely keep myself from doing so. However...”

“However.” His gaze searched hers. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I never have but that was before I met you.”

“I do. I always have.” She paused, obviously to consider her words. Henry feared they would not be what he longed to hear. “It seems to me if fate truly meant for you and I to be together, we would have met again before...” She shook her head. “As it is, I fear fate sadly intended us to be star-crossed, as it were. Nothing more than friends perhaps.”

“I’m not sure I can be your friend.” His gaze bored into hers and he knew the regret in her eyes mirrored his own.

“Then we can have nothing at all.” She looked as if she were about to say something else and instead nodded. “I’m not sure this has been of any benefit to either of us.” She smiled. “But it was nice to speak with you again. It’s probably wise for us to continue to avoid encounters like this. Good day, Henry.” She started off.

“Wait.” He had to stop her even if he had no legitimate reason for doing so. But it did seem that she had just said goodbye and he wasn’t sure he could bear that.

She turned back toward him. “Yes?”

He said the first thing that popped into his head. “I know there can never be anything between us and I accept that. But you will dance with me, won’t you? At the ball?” Perhaps if he could hold her in his arms, just once, he could let her go forever.

“I don’t think—”

“One dance, Celia, nothing more than that. And then we will go our separate ways as if nothing had ever happened between us. Grant me that much.”

She studied him for an endless, silent moment then favored him with a polite, impersonal smile. His stomach plunged. “Of course, Henry, it would be quite rude to refuse you a dance. You are marrying my sister, after all.” She nodded and took her leave.

He stared after her for a long moment and accepted the truth.

This was the woman he should be marrying. This was the woman who had claimed his heart. And for the rest of his days, this was the woman who would own it.

Even if it was broken.


CHAPTER SIX


CELIA STEPPED THROUGH the verdant archway and started toward the house trying to maintain a sedate pace even though everything inside her urged her to run. To flee as fast as she could. She kept her chin tucked, her gaze on the ground in front of her and her fists clenched in an effort to keep from crying. How utterly ridiculous. Tears never helped anyone.

This wasn’t the least bit fair but then Celia had realized long ago that life wasn’t particularly fair. It wasn’t fair that her mother had died. That her father was an idiot. That her sisters did not treat her as one should treat a sister. And most unfair of all—that her oldest sister was marrying the man Celia loved.

And there was nothing to be done about it. Regardless of whatever plan Aunt Guinevere and her companions devised, Katherine would never let Henry go. And Henry would never go back on his word.

“I say, Celia, are you all right?”

Celia jerked her head up and stopped short, nearly colliding with the earl. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t see you.”

“No, you are most definitely preoccupied.” He studied her curiously. His eyes were the same dark brown as Henry’s and it was obvious they were brothers but no one would have ever suspected they were twins. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, everything is wrong! “Nothing of significance.” She forced a pleasant smile. “My mind was elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Someplace more interesting than this, I would hope.”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “I think Danby is most interesting. And the history of the manor is fascinating.”

His brow rose. “You enjoy history, do you?”

“I always have. Particularly in a place like this.” She glanced around. “You can feel history all around you here, like a living, breathing thing. The mark of those who have come before is evident everywhere you look.”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “Have you met the ghosts, then?”

Delight widened her eyes. “You have ghosts?”

“I can’t imagine any self-respecting estate anywhere in England that doesn’t have at least one. But alas—” he heaved an overly dramatic sigh “—in spite of all sorts of stories passed down through the years and my best efforts, starting in my youth, I have yet to meet one.”

“That is a shame.”

“Indeed.” He shook his head mournfully then brightened. “I know, Celia, you and I could hunt for ghosts. Perhaps tonight?” He smiled in a wicked manner. “After dark?”

She stared. “Are you flirting with me, Edward?”

“I am trying.”

“And I am flattered.” She returned his smile. “But I’m not sure hunting ghosts with you in the dark is a good idea.”

“And I thought it was an excellent idea.” He wagged his brows in a wicked manner.

She laughed.

He grinned. “So you like my family’s ancestral home, then?”

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking it. The manor itself is magnificent, and on a beautiful day like today, the gardens are irresistible. Your gardeners are to be commended.”

“Actually, this is largely to my brother’s credit.” He glanced around, pride shining in his eyes. “When I was paying no particular attention to my responsibilities, Henry was. He is the one who made certain this estate, and everything else, was attended to as it should be.” He paused. “Henry is a good man. Perhaps the best I know.”

“My sister is a fortunate woman.” Without warning, tears welled in her eyes and she blinked rapidly.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Concern sounded in his voice.

“Quite, thank you.” She waved her hand in front of her eyes, wishing she’d remembered her fan, but she hadn’t planned to come outside at all. She had indeed been lured out-of-doors by the beauty of the landscape. “A bit of dust in my eye. It will be fine in a moment.”

“I was looking for Henry but perhaps I should escort you back to the house instead.”

“That’s most kind of you, my lord, but not at all necessary. I encountered your brother in the topiary garden a few minutes ago. I suspect he’s still there.”

“If you’re certain.” His gaze strayed to the entry to the garden. “There was something I wished to speak to him about.”

“Then I would feel quite badly if you abandoned your purpose simply because there is a speck of dust in my eye. Or rather, there was.” She cast him her brightest smile. “I told you it would be fine and it is.” She waved toward the garden. “Now do go and find your brother. I have all sorts of things I need to attend to, so I shall be on my way.”

“Very well, Celia.” He smiled. “I will see you at dinner, then?”

“I would never miss dinner.” She grinned. “Your cook is very nearly as remarkable as your gardens.”

“She will take that as a great compliment.” He laughed. “Good day, Celia.”

“Good day, my lord.” She turned and started back toward the manor. Edward was a charming man, most amusing and quite dashing. But he wasn’t Henry.

Celia never would have thought it was possible to love someone with no more between them than an afternoon’s conversation and a slight brush of the hand. It was far-fetched and absurd and completely ridiculous. And yet, she’d never been so certain of anything in her life.

Was it at all possible that Aunt Guinevere and her friends could truly come up with a way to stop this wedding? If anyone could save Henry, surely it would be those three.

Realization struck her like a physical blow and stopped her in midstep.

If Henry was worth having, he was certainly worth fighting for. Celia hadn’t wanted to be involved in whatever scheme her aunt concocted—out of misplaced family loyalty, no doubt. But that was no way to save the man one loved.

Resolve washed through her. She would speak to Aunt Guinevere at once.

Perhaps Celia and Henry were indeed star-crossed. Perhaps they weren’t meant to be together but he deserved better than to spend the rest of his days with Katherine. And as the woman who loved him, it was up to Celia to do all she could to make certain of it.


CHAPTER SEVEN


HOW WAS HE going to extricate himself from this mess?

Henry sat on the stone bench, elbows on his knees, chin propped in his hands and stared at the topiaries carved to replicate the figures in the fountain, stylized nymphs and dolphins, caught forever in a carefree romp. No worries, no problems, nothing to mar their leafy exuberance. He quite envied them even if it was pointless. They were trees, after all.

Try as he might he could not think of a way to escape marrying Katherine. It was not as if she had deceived him in any way, although it was painfully clear to him now that his appeal for her lay only in his fortune and family name.