Roarke hadn’t seen one hair of Mara’s lovely, blonde head since their arrival the evening before, but as it had been getting late when they’d arrived, she’d likely retired early. He’d wanted to go to her, but since he wasn’t sure what to say to repair this growing gap between them, he’d stayed away.
After requesting a breakfast tray to be sent to his study that morning, he’d closed himself off for most of the day with his steward.
He wasn’t hiding out. Truly.He merely had a mountain of paperwork and ledgers to look over, and he figured there was no use delaying the inevitable and pretending that there wasn’t work to be done. This property was entailed and thus would pass to his own son someday. Now that he was the viscount and had sworn to take up his neglected duties once and for all, taking care of such business was imperative.
So why did he feel so damned guilty?
Roarke rubbed his aching temples and leaned back in his chair. As mid-afternoon drew near, he’d finally sent his steward for a late lunch so they could reconvene in an hour, and it was a good thing for Roarke’s eyes were starting to cross from pushing so many numbers. He’d been dreading this mess almost as much as he had the initial reunion with his mother, but he’d survived that meeting and he would this as well.
The only problem was that Mara wasn’t the only one who suffered from bad memories here.
Roarke stood and walked over to the window. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, having long since shed his jacket and cravat, and braced his feet apart, looking out at the moors ofGoon Brennbeyond. His father had loved this view when he had been lord of the manor, and this had been his study. It gave him the chance to gaze out over his vast empire, passed down from a long and revered Garrott bloodline.
Roarke used to believe in that same vision, but after his sire’s death and his subsequent hiatus in India, he had come to realize that none of it really mattered as much as it used to. Yes, he was proud to call himself an Englishman, but a title, lands, and wealth could only offer so much.
Mara was what made him whole.She had always helped him to see the best parts of himself, to give him pride in his ancestry when his father’s actions had made him question his right to any of it.
Roarke’s sire might have done well for their family, involving himself in granite and clay excavation once it seemed the copper and tin mines were beginning to dwindle, and encouraging the tenants to abandon farming and raise sheep and cows instead. But it was his personal inclinations and liaisons that had been a bitter pill for Roarke to swallow growing up. He had never seemed to understand the meaning of the worddiscreet.
Roarke had done a lot of thinking on the ride here as he considered Mara’s betrayal and lack of trust. As she’d finally drifted off to sleep in the seat across from him, he’d abandoned his novel and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and tried to imagine the situation she’d found herself in all those years ago.
He loved his sisters dearly, especially Lyra, and if given the opportunity to save her from a dire fate, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to give up everything he had to do so. Then, after learning what had become of Mara’s mother, he realized that, on her own and afraid and likely coerced by his mother, Mara had no cause to believe that he might honestly carry through on his vow to marry her, so it was no wonder she’d panicked and ran. It might have been different if he hadn’t already returned to school, but she’d acted purely on a survivalist instinct, and really, he couldn’t fault her for that.
One might say he’d done the same when he’d left for India.
When his mother had told him of Mara’s demise, he had suffered a moment of temporary insanity himself. He’d even considered taking his own life, but fortunately reason had returned before he’d turned them into star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet. But then, after the sudden death of his father shortly thereafter, instead of allowing the hovering madness to consume him, he had fled.
Just as he had come to a crossroads back then, the same could be said when he’d decided to return to his home soil. He’d felt his chest tighten the closer that vessel had brought him closer to English shores. Thankfully, his salvation had come in the form of an old and dear friend—Lord Rockford. The earl’s quest for his own vengeance that had eventually turned to love had kept Roarke’s mind off of his inner misgivings—until that fateful day when he’d come face to face with the one woman he’d never been able to forget.
He loved Mara. Pure and simple.
And it was high time he reminded her.
