A Heart for the Taking (27 page)

Stormy Horizon

There is no gathering the rose

without being pricked by the thorns.

Pilpay

The Two Travelers

T
he sound of a door slamming in Ellen’s room jerked Fancy from her unhappy thoughts. After a quick glance at herself in the cheval glass, she pinched her cheeks to bring some color back into them and then, putting on a pleasant face, she walked through the connecting hallway to see who had entered Ellen’s room.

As Fancy had suspected, it was Ellen herself, a very distraught Ellen. She was pacing agitatedly around the room, and at the sight of Fancy she gave a small sob. “Oh, Fancy! What am I to do? Hugh hates me now and, and, I
definitely
do not want to marry Jonathan.” Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. “My life is ruined. I might as well throw myself into the river and end it all.”

In spite of the drama of Ellen’s words, Fancy smiled faintly. “Do you really think that would solve anything?” she asked gently.

“Probably not,” Ellen admitted miserably. “But I feel so wretched and unhappy that I want to die.”

Wearing a charming pale lavender silk gown, her normally blond locks formally arranged and powdered to a soft, silky white, she looked very young and desperate, and Fancy’s heart went out to her. Her little sister might be a bit
flighty and, perhaps, even silly at times, but Ellen wasn’t entirely to blame for the situation in which she found herself. Fancy had no doubt that Ellen would have been honest with both Hugh and Jonathan—if she’d been given the chance. Unfortunately, Jonathan’s actions had prevented her from explaining anything, and Fancy wondered precisely what Jonathan had been thinking of when he had made his surprise announcement. Especially since he’d followed it almost immediately with the statement that they should keep the betrothal more or less secret. Somehow Fancy did not believe his desire for secrecy had anything to do with saving the news for his mother’s ball. Jonathan was still conniving, though what he eventually planned she could not even begin to fathom.

Putting aside her own troubles and further speculation about Jonathan’s motives, she walked over to Ellen and put her arms around her sister’s slender shoulders. Brushing a soft kiss against Ellen’s temple, Fancy said, “I know that things look rather bleak right now, darling, but I am sure it is not so bad that you have to think, even for a moment, about such a final solution.”

Ellen gave a watery chuckle. “I know you are right, Fancy, but, oh, it hurts so much.”

“I know, dear. I know.”

Ellen sighed heavily and reluctantly left Fancy’s comforting embrace. “What am I going to do?” she asked forlornly as she wandered around the room. Her eyes met Fancy’s. “I cannot marry Jonathan,” she said quietly. “Even if I did not love Hugh, I still could not marry him. He is not what he pretended to be in England, is he?”

Fancy made a face. “No, I do not think so. And I cannot help but feel that he has some devious plan in mind.” She frowned. “I do not think that he really means to marry you. I think Jonathan enjoyed the situation he created, but once his announcement had the desired effect—Hugh did leave in a temper—he wanted to make certain that no one else hears of the engagement.”

Her face troubled, Ellen sat on the edge of the bed. “ ’Tis
all a horrible tangle, isn’t it? And my fault. All my fault. I should never have asked you to keep silent. I should have admitted right away that
I
was to be Jonathan’s bride, then none of this would have happened.” She grimaced. “At least Hugh would not think that I am an unscrupulous jade.”

Fancy sat on the bed beside her. Taking Ellen’s hand in hers, she said softly, “If he cares for you, he is not going to think of you as an unscrupulous jade forever. He was hurt and, no doubt, disappointed in you, and I am sure he was very angry. But I think that if you give him time to deal with the situation and then try to explain it to him, he will understand.”

Ellen looked sulky. “I think you are wrong. I do not think Hugh Walker cares one whit for me.” She sniffed disdainfully. “He has certainly given no sign of it this past fortnight—and you know that I have made a fool of myself trying to catch his attention.” Her eyes sparkled angrily. “Do you know that he pinched my cheek? Just as though I were an infant.”

“You
are
very young,” Fancy said with a twinkle.

Ellen sent her a look. “Not
that
young.”

“I agree, but did it occur to you that Hugh might be hiding his own feelings and that by treating you like a child, he is able to keep you at a distance?”

Ellen appeared entranced by that idea. “Really?” she asked hopefully, her earlier anger with Hugh suddenly forgotten. “Do you really think so?”

“I do not know. But I do know that until you untangle yourself from Jonathan, you are not in any position to find out, are you?”

Ellen’s pretty face fell. “Oh, Fancy,” she wailed again. “What am I going to do?”

“Well, if I were in your position,” Fancy answered carefully, “I think that I would seek a private audience with Jonathan just as soon as I could. Tell him the truth—that you have changed your mind about marrying him.”

An apprehensive look flitted across Ellen’s young face.
“He is going to be very angry. And hurt if you are wrong and he really does want to marry me.”

“That is a possibility. But, Ellen, what other alternative do you have? Will you let yourself simply drift into marriage with him because you are afraid to tell him the truth?”

Ellen shook her head vehemently. “No. Never.” She cast Fancy an appealing glance. “I do not suppose . . .” she began tentatively.

It was Fancy’s turn to shake her head. “No. I will not intercede for you in this case. You
must
do it yourself—if not for yourself, for Hugh—if you love him and truly want to marry him.”

“Oh, I do,” Ellen averred passionately, an ardent light shining in her blue eyes. “More than anything in the world.”

“Then your course is clear. Talk to Jonathan. Tell him the truth.”

Ellen stood up from the bed and took a deep breath. “Very well. I shall. Right now.” A rueful little smile dimpled her cheeks. “Before I become too frightened to do otherwise.”

Fancy rose from the bed and hugged Ellen. “He cannot eat you, love.”

Ellen didn’t look very convinced, but her small jaw firmly set, she gave her silken skirts a pat and then, her head held high, walked from the room.

It was very hard for Fancy not to call her back, not to weaken and intercede for her as she had done most of Ellen’s life. She had always fought Ellen’s battles for her, but she realized that it was time for Ellen to take charge of her own life. But perhaps I should have gone with her, she thought uneasily. Given her moral support in case Jonathan takes the news badly. Then she shook her head. No. This was Ellen’s fight.

Ellen would have been very happy to have Fancy by her side when she finally found Jonathan and asked him quietly for a moment alone. Her heart was quaking in her breast, but he only looked at her for a long, unnerving minute and then courteously took her hand and, placing it on his wine-colored sleeve, began to walk toward the house with her.

Showing her into the large, comfortable study at the rear of the house, Jonathan shut the door behind them. After seeing her seated in a russet leather chair, he quirked a smile and, leaning his hips back against a large cherrywood desk, asked, “Now what was it that you wished to talk to me about, sweetheart?”

Her blue eyes huge in her little face, Ellen blurted out, “Jonathan, do you really want to marry me?”

Jonathan stilled, and one heavy black brow flicked upward in obvious surprise at her question. “I believe that not more than a few hours ago, I announced our betrothal. That should give you some idea how I feel about you,” he answered evasively, his mind racing.

“But that does not answer my question,” Ellen persevered bravely, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. He looked very large and almost threatening as he lounged against the desk. Staring at his face, seeing for the first time the selfish cast to his lips, the faint lines of dissipation on his face, and the cold calculation in the dark blue eyes, Ellen wondered how she had ever convinced herself that she was in love with him.

Jonathan let a small, intimidating silence grow as he considered the situation. It was fairly obvious that Ellen was working herself up to breaking off their engagement, the engagement that was still known only to the family. The question for him was whether he was going to let her do it or not. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do with his sudden announcement—broken up the budding romance between Hugh and Ellen and made it clear to Chance which of the two Merrivale sisters had been his prospective bride. Jonathan smiled grimly at that knowledge. So why not let Ellen break off their engagement? It had served its purpose, and it would certainly make his plans less complicated. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Ellen’s lovely face. But it rankled a great deal, damaged his abundant pride, to realize that Ellen no longer wanted to marry him.

Staring down at the green-and-gold painted canvas rug on
the floor, stalling for time, Jonathan asked carefully, “Why is this so important to you now?”

Ellen sought desperately for a way to soften her words, but there was none. Her face unhappy, she said huskily, “Because I am afraid that I have made a terrible mistake. I do not love you and I do not want to marry you.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenched and rage rose up inside him. Despite the fact that he had no intention of marrying her, he was furious that she was actually turning him down. Throwing away the great honor that he, Jonathan Walker of Walker Ridge, had bestowed upon her. Stupid little chit. If it wasn’t to his advantage to let her have her way, he’d hold her to their betrothal, force her to marry him.

Jonathan gave a twisted smile. “Well, my dear, I am hurt that you feel this way. But if it is your wish for our betrothal to end, I see no point in trying to dissuade you.”

“R-r-really?” Ellen stammered out, hardly daring to believe that it could be this easy.

“Of course,” he said blandly. “I have no desire to marry a woman who does not want me.”

“Are you v-v-very disappointed?” she asked softly. “I do not want to hurt you.”

Jonathan straightened and grasped one of her small hands, then pressed his lips against the back of it. “I am wounded, I cannot deny, but your happiness means more to me than anything. If you do not want to marry me, then there is nothing else for us to say.”

Ellen stood up, and stepping away from him, she said, “You are being very kind.” She walked quickly to the door, then stopped and looked back at him. Uncomfortably she said, “Fancy already knows of my decision. Will you tell your family?”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Yes, of course,” he said coolly. “ ’Tis fortunate, is it not, that we decided not to make the announcement public?” A cutting note crept into his voice. “It would have been extremely awkward for us to explain to the guests such a short time later that we had made a mistake, is that not so?”

Ellen flushed. “I—I—I would have w-w-waited to tell you, if that had been the c-c-case. I would not have w-wwanted to embarrass you or your f-f-family.”

Another uncomfortable silence fell, and when Ellen still stood there uncertainly, he waved a dismissing hand. “Run along, dear, you have done what you came to do.”

Ellen’s flush deepened, but without another word she fled from the room.

His lips thin with anger, Jonathan stalked around the pleasant room, the urge to smash something very strong. Little bitch. He should have seduced her when he’d had the chance and then tossed her aside. It would be highly unlikely that Hugh would want his leavings.

A thought occurred to him. Suppose he told Hugh. . . . Some of his rage lessened, and a little smile suddenly quirked at the corners of his mouth. Yes, suppose he told Hugh that Ellen had broken their engagement and his heart in the process . . . and, most important of all, that they had been lovers? Wouldn’t that put the wind up dear, old, honorable Hugh? Jonathan’s smile grew. When Ellen came shyly tripping up to tell him of the broken engagement, Hugh would be in no mood to listen to her soft words. Jonathan laughed softly to himself as he pictured the scene. Hugh would be livid, and he would no doubt send sweet Miss Ellen away with her ears stinging. Ah, yes, he thought happily, he really should find Hugh and let him be the first to know of the broken engagement.