“I did want the satisfaction of resolving it myself.”
“And I think it’s wonderful that we just don’t have to worry about the man anymore at all.” She tipped her head. “Don’t you?”
James chewed on it, and still didn’t like the taste of Lucy’s powerful father swooping in to solve a problem that his own foolishness had gotten him into. It was his fault, his responsibility, his debt.
He spun away from her, his eyes on the town house’s front door. An urge in him told him to go, walk outside, walk away before he said something to her that he’d regret. He did not like the man he was when he felt like this, like he had as a child—angry and afraid. Helpless.
But what was it he feared?
Lucy approached and placed a hand on his arm, but he didn’t turn to face her.
“I know my family can be quite a lot. And, believe me, I, of all people, understand that Papa can be overbearing. He’s got power, and he’s not afraid to wield it for his family. And now that includes you.” She drew in a sharp breath. “You’ve been without a family for so long—”
“No.” James said the word softly. God help him,he didn’t want to shout at Lucy. She didn’t deserve it. This fear was old. Decades old and compounded by the loss of his fortune in the last year. “I just . . .”
He started away from her, realizing it was the first time he’d ever pulled away from her touch. She might not understand, but he’d try to explain when these feelings had subsided.
“I just need to walk. I’m sorry.”
The front door felt a thousand steps away, but he forced himself to keep going and breathed in long gulps of air when he stepped outside.
Lucy swiped at her tears as she watched James depart.
She took one last look at the glorious conservatory he was building for her, the art supplies he’d chosen with care, and retraced his steps with her own.
Stopping in the hallway, she stepped into the front drawing room, checked the time, settled into the chair she’d already picked out as her favorite, and waited.
Going after him was what her heart told her to do, but her head bade her to wait. To allow him space to collect his thoughts, to cool whatever feelings were overwhelming him.
And she had an inkling what those were. She might be wrong, and she certainly preferred to hear it from him, but he’d reacted most strongly when she mentioned family. In that moment, she’d searched her mind for a way to mention his lossthat wouldn’t cause him pain. Now she’d begun to realize that there was no way to do so. He’d pushed those memories, that experience, out of his mind, creating a barrier against the feelings that came with those memories.
Had he ever had time to truly grieve his parents? From the little he’d told her, it seemed he’d had to turn all his attention to trying to survive almost the minute he’d lost them. Because of Rufus Pembroke and his heartlessness. Dastardly, hateful man.
What had Aunt Cassandra ever seen in him?
James mentioned that Angus believed she’d seen Pembroke as security. How ironic that he was the very opposite to his own kin, offering an orphaned boy nothing but his negligence.
James wasn’t used to having a family that meddled, that tried to help and nosed in even when you didn’t wish them to with advice and counsel. He wasn’t used to having anyone, as far as she could tell, who cared about him enough to sacrifice anything.
But she did. Angus did. Papa did.
The fifteen minutes she’d decided to allow him were up, so Lucy stood and made her way outside. James sat on a bench, his back to her, in the square’s green.
“May I join you?”
He lifted his hand to her immediately. “Please do.”
Lucy settled next to him, leaned against his arm, and placed her hand in his.
“You’d think that speaking of them wouldn’t bother me after all these years.”
“I don’t think that at all. I would never stop feeling the loss of my family under such circumstances. The derailment itself must have been so frightening.”
“I still have night terrors.” He swallowed and his mouth tipped up at the edge. “I still hate trains.”
“Then it’s lucky you own ships.”
“Only one. Half of one.”
