Her breath caught in her chest, a sob that she would not allow to find purchase. Her steps grew more agitated, her shoes clicking sharply on the polished wood floor. But then she slowed, and stopped, and found herself looking into the forever-youthful face of Lord Jonathan Masters.
This boy’s death was the key to all of the turmoil in this house. If only there was some way to learn why, to help this family find peace and to finally heal.
She shook her head against the thought. She had no right to meddle. But images of Caleb’s tense, shuttered face, the pain in Emily’s eyes, the longing in Lady Willbridge’s, flashed through Imogen’s mind in that instant. She expelled a breath, and with it all her doubt fled. Despite her refusal to marry into this family, the fact was that each of them had become important to her in a different way. Lady Willbridge was a caring, motherly presence as she had never known. Daphne was like another young sister, sweet and open and mischievous. Emily was a friend, plain and simple, and so much like her it sometimes pained her. And Caleb…
Ah yes, Caleb was her best friend in the world. No matter how much she had come to love him, no matter her desire for him, he was first and foremost her friend, the one who had helped her find her inner strength and enjoy life. She would always hold him in her heart, and would always be grateful to him for what he had given her. Because of him she had found the will to break away and free herself from the structure of her life.
The dressing bell rang then. Finding a new purpose, Imogen squared her shoulders and returned to her room. If there was nothing else she could do, nothing else she could leave him with, she could at least help Caleb regain his family.
Chapter 27
“I cannot believe you’ll be gone in a matter of days. We have had so little time to become acquainted,” Emily said.
Imogen smiled at her friend and gave her arm a squeeze as they continued on their slow promenade of the perimeter of the drawing room. From across the way, where he was playing a quiet card game with the other members of the household, she could feel Caleb’s eyes on her. He had been watching her strangely all night, with a sad, almost fatalistic despair. She had been unable to interpret it.
“The time has passed so much more quickly than I expected it to,” she responded. “I hope that, whatever we may be doing tomorrow, you will deign to join us. I hate the thought of missing even a moment to cultivate our friendship.”
Emily paled and stopped, glancing around before leaning in close. “I’m sure you have seen, my brother and I do not exactly get on well.”
“Perhaps spending some time together will do the two of you good,” Imogen attempted.
But the other girl shook her head. “No. But it is kind of you to offer.”
“Do you want to talk about what has come between you? I am a fine listener, I assure you.”
Emily attempted a smile, but it did not reach her eyes. “It is good of you, Imogen. But truly, it is so long ago that I cannot recall what even started it.” Her hand, however, reached up seemingly of its own volition to touch her scarred cheek. She quickly tried to hide the tell by moving her fingers to her hair, as if to pat a stray tendril in place.
“Very well. But should you ever need to bend an ear, I do hope you will take me up on my offer. And you must promise to write once I leave, and often.”
“Of course.” Emily looked at her oddly then. “But won’t you be back?”
Imogen’s lips trembled under the effort of keeping her smile in place. “No, I don’t believe so.”
Emily frowned and looked about to question her, but a noise across the room distracted her. Breathing a sigh of relief, Imogen followed Emily’s gaze to the group that had a moment ago been playing cards. Lord Tarryton was packing the deck away and Lady Willbridge and Daphne were conversing quietly. Caleb had risen from his seat and was striding their way.
“Excuse me,” Emily said, and before Imogen could react she was scurrying to join the rest of her family.
Caleb was at Imogen’s elbow in seconds. “My mother was talking about having some music. I suggested you sing for us.”
She glanced up sharply into his pale eyes. The sadness that had been present since before dinner was still there. She longed to reach up, to smooth the small line that had appeared between his brows. Instead she clenched her hands before her tightly.
“You know I cannot,” she said. “I’ve told you that before. I hate to sing in front of others.”
“And yet you sing with my sister.”
Was that a hint of hurt she detected in his tone? But his features were calm, impassive.
“I have only ever sung for my family.”
“Please, sing for me,” he murmured. “I feel if I do not hear you now, I may never get the chance.”
His words startled her. It was almost as if he were aware of something about to occur, something life-changing. Was he finally going to accept her refusal of him and let her move on? And why did that thought bring her not one bit of relief?
She laid her hand on his arm. “Caleb, is something wrong?”
He looked at her oddly for a moment but only shook his head.
She took a step closer, heedless of the eyes that must be watching them with curiosity. “Please, perhaps I can be of help.”
