Denied
Page 42
I huff my displeasure at his evasion and leave him waiting for me to get in his car, making tracks towards the bus stop.
‘Olivia!’ he shouts, and I hear the car door slam harshly. It startles me, making my shoulders hit my earlobes, but I disregard his evident annoyance and pick up my pace. ‘It was instant!’ he yells, pulling me to a rapid halt. The unsure tone of his words and rushed delivery of them is proof of the pain they’re causing him. I slowly turn to assess exactly how much pain I’m dealing with, and when his face comes into my view, I see a sadness that deflects right off William and punches a hole in my gut. ‘She was seventeen years old.’ He laughs a nervous laugh, almost embarrassed. ‘It was wrong of me to look at her the way I did, but when those sapphire eyes turned to me and she smiled, my world exploded into a million shards of sparkling glass. Your mother knocked me on my arse, Olivia. I saw a freedom that I knew I couldn’t have.’
My heart slows, a crevice cracking wide open and exposing a horrid reality. I don’t like what I’m hearing. My brain is failing to locate any words of comfort for William, but it’s jumping all over his admission. ‘Why are you trying to sabotage our love?’ I ask.
It’s a perfectly reasonable question, especially in light of this information. It’s not jealousy or resentment. William could’ve had that freedom, just like Miller can. Except Miller is more determined to get it. Miller isn’t prepared to let me slip through his fingers. Miller will fight for us – even if, maddeningly, he questions his worthiness.
William’s eyes close slowly, reminding me of my part-time gentleman’s lazy blink. It makes me want to dash to Miller without delay, let him immerse me in his sanctuary and thing. ‘Please, allow me to take you home.’ He steps back and opens the car door again, gesturing with pleading eyes for me to get in.
‘I’d rather walk,’ I tell him. I still feel ill and the fresh air will do me good. Plus, I need to get to my doctor and I can’t ask William to drop me there. The thought makes me shudder on the spot.
My petulance is irritating him, but I stand firm, not prepared to be bossed into his car again. ‘Then at least give me five minutes.’ He indicates across the road to the square where Miller once sat me – the time I finally gave in and let him have his one night.
I nod, silently pleased he isn’t demanding me into his car. He needs to know I can assert some control, too. We start to wander across together, William giving his driver a mild nod as we leave. My stomach is churning, a mixture of sadness and compassion. I feel like I’m falling into an abyss of knowledge. I don’t want to continue my descent because I know it’ll be a bumpy landing – one that’s going to shred the unforgiving resentment I hold for my mother and replace it with overwhelming guilt. Each minute I spend with William Anderson is weakening the band circling the hardened part of my heart that I’ve reserved for holding utter contempt for Gracie Taylor. It’s going to snap soon and let the cynical fragments merge with the soft, fallen part. I’m not sure whether I can cope with more heartache, not after I’ve barely recovered and can feel light filling the darkness. But curiosity and the overpowering need to validate what Miller and I have is overriding my reluctance.
We both lower to a bench and I remain quiet, watching William’s stiff body trying to relax next to me. And failing on every level. He places his hands on his lap and removes them. He reaches for his phone, checks it, and replaces it in his inside pocket. He crosses his legs, then uncrosses them, and his elbow rests on the bench’s arm. He’s uncomfortable, which is making me uncomfortable, too. Although I continue to study his string of awkward motions.
‘You’ve never told anyone your story, have you?’ I ask, surprising myself when my palm lands on his knee and squeezes in a gesture of comfort. It’s obscene for me to be offering my empathy. He sent my mother away and lost her for ever, for both of us. But he sent me away, too. And saved me.
The distinguished gentleman stops shifting and drops his gaze to my hand. Then he lays his big palm over mine and holds it. He sighs. ‘I was in training, if you will. Being ordained to take over for my uncle. I was twenty-one, a nasty little f**ker, and fearless to boot. Nothing and no one fazed me. I was the perfect successor.’
My eyes drop to our hands and I watch closely as he fiddles with my ring thoughtfully before drawing breath. ‘Gracie had landed in my uncle’s club by accident. She was with friends, tipsy and bold. She hadn’t the first idea of what she’d stepped into, and I should’ve sent her on her way the second I clocked her, but I was rendered immobile by her spirit. It emanated from her entire being, right from her soul, and it held me in its claws. I tried to walk away, but they dug in further. They held me there.’
He reaches up with his spare hand and rubs at his eyes on a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘She laughed.’ William gazes ahead thoughtfully. ‘Tipped martinis down her beautiful throat and carried her stunning body onto the dance floor. I was rapt. Hypnotised. Among the corrupted, sinful best of London was my Gracie. She was mine. Or going to be. When my duty was to lead her away from the seedy underworld that I was destined to run, I was instead luring her in.’
The particles holding that contempt for my mother and the considerable part of my heart that holds pure, raw love for Miller begin to blend. I’m beginning to lose the ability to distinguish between the two . . . just as I suspected and feared. William looks up at me and smiles wistfully, his handsome face pained and remorseful. ‘I bought her champagne. She’d never tasted it. Watching her eyes sparkle in new-found delight lifted a layer from my hard heart. Not once did she stop smiling and not once did my doubt waver that I had to make this young woman mine. I knew I was swimming in murky waters, but I was blinded.’
‘You wish you had,’ I suggest, knowing I’m right. ‘You wish you had seen her out and forgotten about her.’
He laughs a little. It’s condescending. ‘There wasn’t a hope of me forgetting Gracie Taylor. Sounds ridiculous, I know. I snatched a measly hour with her, stole a kiss when she resisted and told her I’d be taking her out the following evening. Somewhere off the beaten track. Somewhere private, where no one knew me. She said no but didn’t stop me when I helped myself to her bag and found some identity to confirm her name and address.’ His smile broadens in an obvious moment of reflection. ‘Gracie Taylor.’ The sound of my mother’s name pleases him, and I can’t prevent a fond smile from developing on my own lips. The blossoming feelings between Gracie and William are picture perfect. Novel material. Consuming and irrational. Then it all went horribly wrong.
I can totally relate to my mother. Despite William and Miller clearly despising each other, they have many similar qualities. She must have been just as blinded by William Anderson as he claimed to be by her. And as I am by Miller Hart.
‘Your obligation to your uncle ruined everything.’
‘Obliterated it,’ he corrects sardonically. ‘My uncle was planning to retire, but a freak accident sent his body to the bottom of the Thames before we got to give him his timepiece.’
My brow crumples. ‘Timepiece?’
He smiles and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly. ‘It’s commonly recognised as a good retirement gift.’
‘Olivia!’ he shouts, and I hear the car door slam harshly. It startles me, making my shoulders hit my earlobes, but I disregard his evident annoyance and pick up my pace. ‘It was instant!’ he yells, pulling me to a rapid halt. The unsure tone of his words and rushed delivery of them is proof of the pain they’re causing him. I slowly turn to assess exactly how much pain I’m dealing with, and when his face comes into my view, I see a sadness that deflects right off William and punches a hole in my gut. ‘She was seventeen years old.’ He laughs a nervous laugh, almost embarrassed. ‘It was wrong of me to look at her the way I did, but when those sapphire eyes turned to me and she smiled, my world exploded into a million shards of sparkling glass. Your mother knocked me on my arse, Olivia. I saw a freedom that I knew I couldn’t have.’
My heart slows, a crevice cracking wide open and exposing a horrid reality. I don’t like what I’m hearing. My brain is failing to locate any words of comfort for William, but it’s jumping all over his admission. ‘Why are you trying to sabotage our love?’ I ask.
It’s a perfectly reasonable question, especially in light of this information. It’s not jealousy or resentment. William could’ve had that freedom, just like Miller can. Except Miller is more determined to get it. Miller isn’t prepared to let me slip through his fingers. Miller will fight for us – even if, maddeningly, he questions his worthiness.
William’s eyes close slowly, reminding me of my part-time gentleman’s lazy blink. It makes me want to dash to Miller without delay, let him immerse me in his sanctuary and thing. ‘Please, allow me to take you home.’ He steps back and opens the car door again, gesturing with pleading eyes for me to get in.
‘I’d rather walk,’ I tell him. I still feel ill and the fresh air will do me good. Plus, I need to get to my doctor and I can’t ask William to drop me there. The thought makes me shudder on the spot.
My petulance is irritating him, but I stand firm, not prepared to be bossed into his car again. ‘Then at least give me five minutes.’ He indicates across the road to the square where Miller once sat me – the time I finally gave in and let him have his one night.
I nod, silently pleased he isn’t demanding me into his car. He needs to know I can assert some control, too. We start to wander across together, William giving his driver a mild nod as we leave. My stomach is churning, a mixture of sadness and compassion. I feel like I’m falling into an abyss of knowledge. I don’t want to continue my descent because I know it’ll be a bumpy landing – one that’s going to shred the unforgiving resentment I hold for my mother and replace it with overwhelming guilt. Each minute I spend with William Anderson is weakening the band circling the hardened part of my heart that I’ve reserved for holding utter contempt for Gracie Taylor. It’s going to snap soon and let the cynical fragments merge with the soft, fallen part. I’m not sure whether I can cope with more heartache, not after I’ve barely recovered and can feel light filling the darkness. But curiosity and the overpowering need to validate what Miller and I have is overriding my reluctance.
We both lower to a bench and I remain quiet, watching William’s stiff body trying to relax next to me. And failing on every level. He places his hands on his lap and removes them. He reaches for his phone, checks it, and replaces it in his inside pocket. He crosses his legs, then uncrosses them, and his elbow rests on the bench’s arm. He’s uncomfortable, which is making me uncomfortable, too. Although I continue to study his string of awkward motions.
‘You’ve never told anyone your story, have you?’ I ask, surprising myself when my palm lands on his knee and squeezes in a gesture of comfort. It’s obscene for me to be offering my empathy. He sent my mother away and lost her for ever, for both of us. But he sent me away, too. And saved me.
The distinguished gentleman stops shifting and drops his gaze to my hand. Then he lays his big palm over mine and holds it. He sighs. ‘I was in training, if you will. Being ordained to take over for my uncle. I was twenty-one, a nasty little f**ker, and fearless to boot. Nothing and no one fazed me. I was the perfect successor.’
My eyes drop to our hands and I watch closely as he fiddles with my ring thoughtfully before drawing breath. ‘Gracie had landed in my uncle’s club by accident. She was with friends, tipsy and bold. She hadn’t the first idea of what she’d stepped into, and I should’ve sent her on her way the second I clocked her, but I was rendered immobile by her spirit. It emanated from her entire being, right from her soul, and it held me in its claws. I tried to walk away, but they dug in further. They held me there.’
He reaches up with his spare hand and rubs at his eyes on a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘She laughed.’ William gazes ahead thoughtfully. ‘Tipped martinis down her beautiful throat and carried her stunning body onto the dance floor. I was rapt. Hypnotised. Among the corrupted, sinful best of London was my Gracie. She was mine. Or going to be. When my duty was to lead her away from the seedy underworld that I was destined to run, I was instead luring her in.’
The particles holding that contempt for my mother and the considerable part of my heart that holds pure, raw love for Miller begin to blend. I’m beginning to lose the ability to distinguish between the two . . . just as I suspected and feared. William looks up at me and smiles wistfully, his handsome face pained and remorseful. ‘I bought her champagne. She’d never tasted it. Watching her eyes sparkle in new-found delight lifted a layer from my hard heart. Not once did she stop smiling and not once did my doubt waver that I had to make this young woman mine. I knew I was swimming in murky waters, but I was blinded.’
‘You wish you had,’ I suggest, knowing I’m right. ‘You wish you had seen her out and forgotten about her.’
He laughs a little. It’s condescending. ‘There wasn’t a hope of me forgetting Gracie Taylor. Sounds ridiculous, I know. I snatched a measly hour with her, stole a kiss when she resisted and told her I’d be taking her out the following evening. Somewhere off the beaten track. Somewhere private, where no one knew me. She said no but didn’t stop me when I helped myself to her bag and found some identity to confirm her name and address.’ His smile broadens in an obvious moment of reflection. ‘Gracie Taylor.’ The sound of my mother’s name pleases him, and I can’t prevent a fond smile from developing on my own lips. The blossoming feelings between Gracie and William are picture perfect. Novel material. Consuming and irrational. Then it all went horribly wrong.
I can totally relate to my mother. Despite William and Miller clearly despising each other, they have many similar qualities. She must have been just as blinded by William Anderson as he claimed to be by her. And as I am by Miller Hart.
‘Your obligation to your uncle ruined everything.’
‘Obliterated it,’ he corrects sardonically. ‘My uncle was planning to retire, but a freak accident sent his body to the bottom of the Thames before we got to give him his timepiece.’
My brow crumples. ‘Timepiece?’
He smiles and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly. ‘It’s commonly recognised as a good retirement gift.’
