Again the Magic (33 page)

With every word he had spoken, Aline felt despair twist inside her. She could hardly draw breath around the huge choking knot in her chest. “You must believe me when I say that it would impossible for us to be happy together. I care for you, McKenna, but I…” She hesitated and took a pained gasp before forcing herself to continue. “I don’t love you in that way. I cannot marry you.”

“You don’t have to love me. I’ll accept whatever you can give.”

“No, McKenna.”

He came to her, dropped to his haunches, and took one of her cold, perspiring hands in his own. The heat of his flesh was startling. “Aline,” he said with difficulty, “I love you enough for the both of us. And there must be something about me worth loving. If you would just try…”

The need to tell him the truth was enough to drive Aline insane. As she considered it wildly, her heart beat so hard that it hurt, and there was an icy prickling all over her skin. She tried to envision it, showing him the disfiguring scars right here and now. No.
No.

She felt like a creature caught in a net, struggling in vain to break free of the filaments of the past, which tightened around her with every movement. “It’s not possible.” Her hands clenched into the soft silk of her dress.

“Why?” The word was harshly spoken, but there was a vulnerability behind it that made her want to weep. Aline knew what McKenna wanted, and needed — a partner who would gladly yield herself to him, in and out of bed. A woman who had the wisdom to take pride in all the things he was, and never mind about the things he could never be. Once Aline might have been that for him. But now that could never happen.

“You’re not of my class,” she said. “We both know that.”

It was the one thing she could say that would convince him. An American he might be, but McKenna had been born in England, and he would never be able to completely rid himself of the class awareness that had permeated every aspect of his existence for eighteen years. For such a comment to come from her was the ultimate betrayal. She looked away, not wanting to see his expression. She was dying inside, her heart turning to ash.

“Christ, Aline,” came his ragged whisper.

She turned away from him. They stood like that for a long time, both struggling with unexpressed emotion, fury feeding on hopelessness. “I don’t belong with you,” she said hoarsely. “My place is here, with… with Lord Sandridge.”

“You can’t make me believe that you would choose him over me — not after what’s happened between us, damn it! You let me touch you, hold you, in a way you never let him.”

“I’ve gotten what I wanted,” she forced herself to say. “And so have you. After you leave, you’ll see that it was for the best.”

McKenna nearly crushed her hand as his grip tightened. Turning her hand up, he laid his cheek against the soft cushion of her palm. “Aline,” he whispered, mercilessly divesting himself of all pride, “I’m afraid of what I’ll become if you won’t have me.”

Aline’s throat and head ached, and she finally began to cry, tears sliding down her cheeks. She jerked her hand from his, when all she wanted to do was pull his head to her breasts. “You’ll be fine,” she said shakily, dragging a sleeve across her streaming face as she walked away without looking back. “You’ll be fine, McKenna — just go back to
New York. I don’t want you.”

Mrs. Faircloth arranged a row of rare crystal glasses on the shelves in her private room, where the most fragile household valuables were kept under lock and key. Her door had been left half open, and she heard someone approach the threshold in a slow, almost reluctant tread. Leaning out from the shelf, she glanced at the doorway to behold McKenna’s large outline, his face shadowed. Poignant regret filled her as she realized that he must have come for a last private talk.

Recalling McKenna’s offer to take her back to America with him, Mrs. Faircloth was conscious of a small, unheeded wish that she could accept the invitation. Foolish old hen, she scolded herself, knowing that it was too late for a woman her age to consider uprooting herself. All the same, the prospect of going to live in another country had kindled her blood with an unexpected sense of adventure. It might have been wonderful, she thought wistfully, to experience something new as she approached her sunset years.

However, she would never leave Lady Aline, whom she had loved too dearly and for too long. She had watched over Aline from infancy to adulthood,
sharing in every joy and tragedy of her life. Although Mrs. Faircloth cared for Livia and Marcus as well, she had to admit privately that Aline had always been her favorite. In the hours when Aline had hovered closest to death, Mrs. Faircloth had felt the despair of a mother losing her own child… and in the years afterward, watching Aline grapple with fearful secrets and broken dreams, the bond between them had strengthened even more. As long as Aline needed her, there was no thought in the housekeeper’s mind of leaving her.

“McKenna,” Mrs. Faircloth said, welcoming him into her room. As he stepped into the quiet lamplight, the expression on his face troubled her, reminding her of the first time she had seen him, a poor motherless bastard with cold blue-green eyes. Despite his lack of expression, fury and grief clung to him in an invisible mantle, too profound, too absolute, for him to give voice to. He could only stand there and stare at her, not knowing what he needed, having come to her only because there seemed to be no other place to go.

Mrs. Faircloth knew that there could be only one reason that McKenna would look that way. Swiftly she went to shut the door. The servants at Stony Cross Park knew never to bother the housekeeper when her door was closed, unless the situation was near-catastrophic. Turning, she held her arms out to him in a maternal gesture. McKenna went to her at once, his black head lowering to her soft, round shoulder as he wept.

Aline never fully remembered the rest of that day, only that she had managed to play the part of hostess mechanically, talking and even smiling, without really taking notice of whom she was with or what she was saying. Livia gallantly sought to cover for her, diverting all attention with a show of effervescent charm. When it was noticed that McKenna was not present at the group’s final supper, Gideon Shaw lightly excused his absence. “Oh, McKenna is putting things in order before his departure on the morrow — and making long lists for me, I’m afraid.” Before more questions could surface, Shaw stunned them all with the information that instead of returning to New York with McKenna, he was going to stay on in London to manage the newly established office.

Even in her numbness, Aline grasped the import of the news. She threw a quick glance at Livia, who was devoting a great deal of concentration to slicing a bit of potato into minuscule portions. Livia’s pretended disinterest, however, was belied by the tide of color that rose in her cheeks. Shaw was staying because of Livia, Aline realized, and wondered what sort of arrangement he and her sister had come to. Flicking a glance at Marcus at the head of the table, Aline saw that he was wondering the same thing.

“London is fortunate to be favored by your continued presence, Mr. Shaw,” Marcus commented. “May I ask where you will reside?”

Shaw replied with the whimsical smile of a man who had recently discovered something unexpected about himself. “I’ll remain at the Rutledge until the new construction begins, after which I will find some appropriate place to lease.”

“Allow me to offer some assistance toward that end,” Marcus said politely, his gaze calculating. Clearly he was planning to exert as much control over the developing situation as possible. “I can put a few words in the right ears to secure a suitable situation for you.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Shaw replied, with a jaunty twinkle in his gaze that showed he was perfectly aware of Marcus’s true intent.

“But you
have
to go back to New York!” Susan Chamberlain cried, glaring at her brother. “My God, Gideon, even you can’t simply cast off your responsibilities in this cavalier manner! Who will look after the family business, and make decisions, and—” She stopped, suddenly aghast as the realization hit her. “
No.
You are not appointing that
docker
as a de facto head of the Shaw family, you sodden lunatic!”

“I’m perfectly sober,” Shaw informed her blandly. “And the papers have already been drawn up and signed. I’m afraid there’s not much you can do about it, sis. McKenna has well-established relationships with all our business associates, and he alone possesses the full information regarding our accounts, trusts, and contracts. You may as well settle back and give him free rein.”

Seething with outrage, Susan Chamberlain seized her wine and drank angrily, while her husband tried to pacify her with low-voiced murmurs.

Gideon Shaw continued to eat calmly, as if oblivious to the upheaval he had caused. As he reached for a goblet of water, however, he shot a quick glance at Livia, whose lips twitched with a smile.

“I hope we will have the pleasure of seeing you from time to time, Mr. Shaw,” Aline murmured.

The handsome American turned his attention to her, his expression becoming enigmatic. “It would be my pleasure as well, my lady. However, I fear that I will be completely occupied with work for a long while.”

“I see,” Aline said softly, while understanding dawned. She deliberately picked up her own water glass and lifted it in a silently encouraging toast, and he responded with a nod of thanks.

Aline was not such a coward that she could hide in her room to avoid McKenna… although the idea was not without its appeal. His quiet words of yesterday had annihilated her. She knew how inexplicable her rejection had been, leaving him no choice but to believe that she had no feeling for him. The thought of facing him this morning was unbearable… but she felt that she should at least have the courage to tell him goodbye.

The entrance hall and the courtyard outside were filled with servants and departing guests. A row of carriages lined the drive, being loaded with bags and boxes and trunks. Aline and Marcus moved among the throng, exchanging farewells and walking with guests to their carriages. Livia was nowhere in sight, leading Aline to suspect that she was making her goodbyes to Gideon Shaw in private.

From what little Livia had revealed to her during a brief conversation this morning, Aline gathered that the pair had decided not to see each other for a period of several months, to allow Shaw the time and privacy he needed to conquer his drinking habit. They had, however, agreed to correspond during their separation, which meant that their courtship would continue by means of ink and paper. Aline had smiled with sympathetic amusement when Livia told her that. “I think the two of you have got it backward,” she said. “Usually a romantic involvement begins with exchanging letters, and then eventually leads to greater intimacy… whereas you and Mr. Shaw…”

“Began in bed and ended with correspondence,” Livia finished dryly. “Well, none of us Marsdens seem to do things the usual way, do we?”

“No, indeed.” Aline was glad that she and her younger sister seemed to be back on good terms. “It will be interesting to see what becomes of your relationship, limiting it to letter writing for such a long period.”

“I’m looking forward to it, in a way,” Livia reflected. “It will be easier to discern my true feelings for Mr. Shaw when the communication is entirely between our minds and hearts, with all the physical aspects removed.” She grinned and blushed as she admitted self-consciously, “Although I will miss those physical aspects.”

Aline had gazed at a distant point outside a nearby window while daylight stole over the grounds. Her smile turned wistful as she thought of how much she too would miss the joys to be found in a man’s arms. “It will turn out all right,” she said. “I have high hopes for you and Mr. Shaw.”

“What about you and McKenna? Is there any reason to hope for the both of you?” As Livia saw Aline’s expression, she frowned. “Never mind — I shouldn’t have asked. I have promised myself to say nothing more on the subject, and from now on I will hold my silence even if it kills me…”

Aline’s thoughts were brought back to the present as she stepped outside and noticed that one of the footmen, Peter, was having difficulty hefting a massive trunk onto the back of a carriage. Despite his brawny build, the weight of the brass-bound trunk was getting the better of him. The object slid from its precarious position, threatening to topple Peter backward.

Two of the guests, Mr. Cuyler and Mr. Chamberlain, noticed the footman’s dilemma, but it did not seem to occur to either of them to offer assistance. They moved away from the vehicle in tandem, continuing their conversation while they observed Peter’s struggles. Aline glanced quickly around the scene, looking for another servant to help the footman. Before she could say a word to anyone, McKenna seemed to appear from nowhere, striding to the back of the carriage and wedging his shoulder against the trunk. The muscles of his arms and back bulged against the seams of his coat as he shoved the trunk into its proper place, holding it steady while Peter clambered up to fasten a leather strap around it.

Cuyler and Chamberlain turned away from the sight, as if it embarrassed them to see one of their group assisting a servant with a menial task. The very fact of McKenna’s superior physical strength seemed a mark against him, betraying that he had once labored at tasks that no gentleman should ever have done. Finally the trunk was secured, and McKenna stepped back, acknowledging the footman’s thanks with a brief nod. Watching him, Aline could not help but reflect that had McKenna never left Stony Cross, he almost certainly would have been in Peter’s place, serving as a footman. And that wouldn’t have mattered to her in the least. She would have loved him no matter where he went, or what he did, and it tormented her that he would never know that.

Sensing her gaze, McKenna glanced up, then immediately averted his gaze. His jaw hardened, and he stood there in silent contemplation before finally looking at her once more. His expression sent a chill through her… so wintry and withdrawn… and she realized that his feelings for her were transforming into a hostility that was proportionate to how much he loved her.