Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon (13 page)

Devil take it, why was he thinking
about Miss Hathaway again?

When Aidan turned what must have been
at least the tenth page without having read a single word, the door
to the Heathcote Park library swung open and David stepped inside,
then stopped abruptly.

“
What are
you
doing in here? I
thought I might find Miss Hathaway.”

“
So terribly sorry to
disappoint you,” Aidan drawled, unable to hide his irritation at
hearing her name on David’s lips. Good God, it was like she
followed him everywhere here, even if she wasn’t present. “I needed
somewhere to think. Your library was quiet and, for once,
empty.”

“
Too many ladies out on the
lawn chattering? They can be a little overwhelming when they’re all
together in a flock like that.”

Aidan scowled. They had actually been
rather quiet, all things considered. Well, aside from the shouts of
dismay when the mutt had come upon them. That part was enough to
leave him with a ringing sensation in his head, like church bells
that never ceased.

He shook his head. “They weren’t so
bad as all that.”

David strolled in. The door closed
behind him, and he moved closer to the armchair beside Aidan, then
peeked over Aidan’s shoulder. “Christ, what are you
reading?”

“
I’m not.” No one would
believe he had an interest in such a thing, so there was no point
in pretending otherwise. “I’m just holding it so I give off the
appearance of being occupied.”

“
You’re giving off the
appearance of being a sullen, angry fool.” David dropped into the
chair and crossed one ankle over his knee.

“
That’s hardly an act or a
mere
appearance
.”

“
It’s good you recognize
the truth for what it is.”

Aidan gave a wry grin. “One must call
a spade a spade.”

“
True.” David narrowed his
eyes. “So what is your foul mood really about?”

But he couldn’t give voice to that. He
hadn’t sorted it all out in his own head yet. All Aidan knew was
that he wanted to let Morgan live again, but he couldn’t seem to
find the fortitude within himself to trust her to do it all alone.
He knew that, no matter how he tried to twist things around in his
head, somehow he was always at the crux of every matter…and he
hated that. He knew he wanted to continue to hate Miss Hathaway
because it was what was comfortable and familiar. At certain turns
she made such a task entirely too easy, and at other points she
made it as impossible as removing his own heart from his chest and
somehow continuing to live. He’d begun to notice things about her,
such as her kindness to Morgan, and the way she seemed to attract
outcasts and then take them under her wing, and how she didn’t look
altogether ungainly any more when she wore such pretty frocks. Yet
he didn’t want to notice any of those things at all—which begged
the question: why didn’t he want to notice?

The only answer which came to mind was
that it was easier to continue hating her than it was to admit she
hadn’t done anything to deserve his hatred. The more he noticed how
pretty she was or how kindly she treated Morgan, the closer he came
to being forced to admit that, at least to himself.

But he couldn’t tell David any of
that. Not until he’d worked it all out within his own mind. So he
blew out a breath. “I’m frustrated, is all.”

“
That much is
obvious.”

His cheek and lip pulled at one side,
almost in a grin, despite himself. “I think it would be best for
everyone if I tried to separate myself some. Get some
space.”

“
You could have distanced
yourself from the people who are frustrating you so much if you
would have come out to the river with us. You could have left
Morgan with the ladies, and everything would have been just
fine.”

That was the problem. Trusting that
she’d be all right without either him or Niall to look out for
her…it was too difficult right now. It might always be too
difficult, though he didn’t want to allow his mind to dwell on that
possibility.

When he remained silent, David
stretched out both legs before him and loosely crossed his arms
over his chest. “I have an idea,” he said thoughtfully, “that might
grant you some space and allow you to sort through whatever it is
that’s plaguing you.”

Aidan didn’t know what to think of
that tone. It was like David was being cautious with him. Like he
was afraid of what Aidan’s reaction might be. In all the years
they’d known each other, he’d never experienced the
like.

Good God, had he become so despondent
now that even David, who’d known him since they were boys, feared
what he might do? Lifting his brows, Aidan said, “Go on,” though he
half dreaded what his friend might suggest.

“
I’ve got an area set up
for you in the hermitage, on the far side of the
estate.”

“
Devil take it.” He’d be
damned if he locked himself away in seclusion while Morgan tried to
find her way in society again without him. Even as he started to
voice that very thing, though, David held up his hand.

“
You’ll have everything you
could possibly need. Chisels, hammers, marble…even the piece you
were working on when you left your studio.”

Sculpting. The mere thought of it had
his hands rubbing together involuntarily until he felt the calluses
still lining his fingers and palms. Yet he shook his head. “I
can’t.”

“
You can. I sent my men to
London, and they brought everything you left behind. It’s all in
place. All it needs is you.”

He shook his head, baffled by the
suggestion, by the mere thought of it. All it needed was an Aidan
Cardiff who could devote the time, and energy, and emotional
wherewithal to something of that nature. He was no longer that man.
Since the day he received an urgent letter from home, telling him
that Morgan had thrown herself before a racing carriage and was
inconsolable over Stoneham’s rejection, he’d invested every ounce
of emotion he had in caring for her.

To renew sculpting would require far
more than he had to give.

And it would keep him locked away, in
seclusion, for hours and hours at a time. So often, back when he
allowed himself the opportunity to sculpt, he would lose his grip
on time and space, until he’d been at work for hours or days,
without stopping for anything but the barest of
necessities.

Yet his pulse kicked to life in his
veins at the thought, and he couldn’t deny that the thought of
sculpting again was calling to him. Drawing him closer.

To what? To the life he’d thought to
lead, once upon a time? He’d turned his back on that long ago. He
couldn’t possibly allow himself to become so sidetracked by
anything. Not now.

How could he live with himself if
something happened to Morgan and he wasn’t there? He couldn’t.
Never again.

Something which so thoroughly absorbed
him had no place in his life ever again.

David stood, dragging a hand over his
jaw before looking down at Aidan. “Niall told me you’d react this
way. I think I knew you would, too. But I had to try.”

“
Why?” Aidan croaked, no
longer recognizing his own voice.

“
Because I miss my friend.”
He let out a mirthless chuckle as he made his way to the door.
“It’s all there. No one else will go to the hermitage. It’s locked,
so even if they went they couldn’t get in. If you change your
mind…”

David dropped a key on the table just
inside the door, and then he was gone.

Emma rushed down to the drawing room
at midmorning the next day, reminding herself to walk at a decorous
pace once she got close enough to the entryway that someone might
see her. She’d allowed Fanny to construct a new coiffure to go
along with her lovely periwinkle walking dress, but she wouldn’t
have agreed to it if she’d had any idea how long it would take to
dress her hair in such an elaborate manner.

Despite all of Fanny’s efforts, Emma
must still wear a bonnet while outside, so it wouldn’t matter
anyway. Not in the grand scheme of things. What gentleman who might
wish to form an attachment with her would see this fashionable coif
while it was buried beneath straw and fabric and ribbons and
flowers? Taking the time to let Fanny do her business had been a
grand miscalculation on Emma’s part.

By the time she rushed into the
corridor leading to the drawing room, everyone else was already on
their way out. In fact, a good half of the other houseguests had
split off into smaller groupings and had made their way to the
grand entryway, and now they were heading out of doors.

Serena Weston moved past Emma on the
arm of Lord Muldaire, alongside Lord Trenowyth and a very frothy
young brunette—Miss Selwyn, if memory served. Turning to look over
her shoulder, Serena mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before they were gone.
Her eyes had been quite pained. Understandable, given the
circumstances. While Mr. Weston was intent upon making a match
between his daughter and Lord Muldaire, Serena had other
ideas.

Still, she was sorry? Why? About
what?

Vanessa and David came out into the
corridor from the drawing room alongside Lady Portia and Lord
Roxburghe, interrupting Emma’s ruminations. The expression on
Roxburghe’s face turned sour at the sight of Emma, but Vanessa
smiled as brightly as the sun.

“
There you are. Lord
Jacob?” she called over her shoulder to Lord Muldaire’s perpetually
sullen brother. “I promised she would arrive momentarily, and she
has.” Then Vanessa faced Emma again, her eyes bright and cheerful
with the anticipation of taking a promenade through the grounds on
the arm of her husband. “Since you were late, everyone else is
already paired off. I’m sure you won’t mind walking this afternoon
with Lord Jacob, Lady Morgan, and Mr. Cardiff.”

Emma felt her jaw drop, but quickly
set it to rights. Spending the morning with Morgan would be no
hardship, and while she wasn’t entirely certain how she ought to
feel about Lord Jacob and his grim visage, she was certain she
could manage. But Emma had no intention of willingly placing
herself in the path of Mr. Cardiff. Not when he still sent fiery
glares in her direction at every opportunity he was given. Not when
he could hardly bear to say a civil word to her. Not when he was so
bound and determined to treat Morgan as though she were completely
inept and unable to do anything by herself.

But then again, he
had
seemed to respond
favorably to her outburst at supper, and until Kingley had come
along while they were painting, she’d imagined he might be doing a
portrait of her.

Blast, why did the man have to present
her with such a conundrum?

Without giving her the chance to
argue, Vanessa and David kept moving. When they reached the door
leading outside, Mr. Cardiff and Morgan had appeared at the
threshold coming from the drawing room.

Lord Jacob stood in the hallway, his
ever-present glower darkening his already dark features.

Goodness, this was shaping up to be a
very dissatisfying morning. Emma hadn’t thought anyone capable of
being more brooding and irritable than Mr. Cardiff until she met
Lord Jacob. Now she was beginning to rethink her previous
assumptions.

Lord Jacob held out an arm to her.
“Shall we?”

There really was no option left
available to her. Emma reached to take his arm, but Morgan somehow
got there first, wrapping her hand deftly into the crook of Lord
Jacob’s arm and giving him a pleasant smile. He merely scowled down
at her in return, proving yet again that he was as impenetrable as
a London fog.

“
Please don’t force me to
spend the entire day on my brother’s arm,” Morgan whispered
quietly, but vehemently, to only Emma. “He hardly lets me out of
his sight as it is. He wouldn’t join anyone else today…”

“
Of course,” Emma said in
response, though on the inside she wanted to scream her
frustrations from the rooftops. She had no more desire to spend the
day with Mr. Cardiff than his sister did.

Lord Jacob started off with Morgan at
his side, leaving Emma and Mr. Cardiff in their wake. Tentatively,
she looked up at him. His lips jerked downward in response, but he
silently held out his arm.