“Personal? They were strewn across your library.” She waved her hand in the air nonchalantly. “They were there for anyone to find.” She sat down on his other side. “Now, I’d say that any man who can write poetry like this about a woman must be in love with her, no matter what her name is.”
“Aunt, it is not the same thing, and you know it. I fell in love with the woman I thought I knew.” He scrambled to get hold of all the papers but missed some. One of which Gregory now had in his hand.
“What’s in a name?” Sarah shrugged. “Apart from a dowry.”
Marcus chose not to answer this. He knew deep down that having met Alaina any other way, he would have married her even without the dowry. The thing that was holding him back from going to see her now was the fact she lied.
“It isn’t about the money,” he whispered.
“Marcus, this is brilliant.” Gregory looked up from the scrap of paper he had been reading.
“What?” Marcus looked at Gregory.
“This poem of yours, it’s fantastic.” He thrust it under Marcus’ nose to read. “Have you ever thought about having it published? Maybe you could make an income from it.”
Marcus blinked again, taking back the poem. His fingers curled possessively around the note. He hadn’t thought of publishing, for these poems were so personal, but perhaps there was something in what Gregory said.
Maybe I could make an income from it.
Something lurched in his chest – hope.
“Did you write this one?” Sarah asked, holding up another scrap of paper. “It’s quite beautiful. It made me cry.” She dabbed her eyes as Marcus took the note.
At once, he saw it was not his handwriting on the page but another’s. He sat back in the chair, reading fast and intently.
My heart stays with you.
Maybe you knew me by another name,
Maybe you knew me by another’s money,
But there is one thing you always knew
About me that was true.
You knew my heart
And it stays with you now.
I know forgiveness is too
Much to ask, but I’ll ask, I’ll dream,
And know this, always,
That my heart stays with you.
Marcus broke off and looked up, his heart pounding in his ears. His lips parted as he wished to say something about it, but he couldn’t find the words. In the stillness, Gregory took it from his grasp and read it too.
“Ah, Marcus,” Gregory said with a heavy sigh, clearly realizing exactly who had written this poem. “She loves you. Many men would go a long way to be loved by a woman so much. Is it not enough?” He raised his gaze to Marcus. “Or do you wish to be miserable forever, longing for a woman that is within your reach but you are too proud to go after.”
“I am not proud.” Marcus sat straight, his tone defensive.
“Pah!” Sarah hastily stifled her laugh by drinking her tea. “You are a little, dear,” she said in a rush. “You wish to know the true Alaina? Then go to her. Speak with her. It’s the only way you’ll find out the truth, isn’t it?”
Marcus could see the truth, though, as he took the poem back from Gregory. He could feel it in her words.
“I have to see her.” He stood from his chair.
