Finding Forever Page 5

  “What does it matter to you?” he asked with suspicion. And then fear entered his eyes. “Are you just trying to get rid of us?”

  “You know I wouldn’t ever do that. I love you so much,” she insisted. She grabbed his hand and was surprised when he didn’t brush it off. “I just wish you weren’t so angry, Brayden. I want you to be happy again.”

  “Whatever. You’re not my mom, or anything like her, so why don’t you quit trying to act like it?”

  That broke her heart in half, and she had to fight not to cry.

  “I know I’m not your mom, and I would never want to replace her. But I do love you and your sister more than anyone else on this planet, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss your parents as much as you do.”

  “Well, I think you just want these strangers here to take us so you can go away like my mom did.”

  “Brayden, I can’t even imagine my life without you. I have loved you from the moment I first held you in my arms, and that was when you were only a few minutes old. I love you even more as I watch you turning into a young man. I will never leave you, not ever. I know you’re having a hard time trusting people right now, and you’ve been through more than any child should have to deal with. But in time you’ll know that you can trust me. As an old saying tells us, time will heal your wounds, I promise.” Whitney leaned in and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

  “I want to go to sleep,” Brayden said with a suspiciously tight voice.

  She could tell he was done listening, so she left his room with her heart heavy. Was she doing more harm than good with her sister’s children? She honestly didn’t know. But she wouldn’t give up on either of them, even if she had to tell Brayden every single day for the rest of her life how much she loved him.

  They would all stop hurting so much — eventually. Today wasn’t going to be that day.

  Chapter Eight

  Whitney didn’t see the extra shine on the newly polished floors, and before she knew it, her feet flew out from beneath her, and the sound of her surprised yelp echoed through the hall as she landed hard.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but with nearly inhuman restraint she managed to push them back. She scooted backward against the wall and decided to stay put for the moment.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her head whipped up. Of course. It was the man who’d been making her feel unwelcome almost from the moment she’d entered the family home. Okay, home wasn’t quite the word. Maybe estate, or whatever. Rich bastards.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Go ahead and carry on.” She’d tried but failed to hide the pain laced through her voice.

  “Most people learn how to walk by the time they’re one,” Liam said, but he reached out a hand.

  She gasped. “You insult me and then offer to help me to my feet?”

  “A gentleman would never fail to assist a lady when he found her in difficult circumstances.”

  The sarcasm was oh too clear. He didn’t think of her as a lady at all. Screw him. He was definitely no gentleman.

  “Well, since we both know I’m not a typical woman, and certainly not in your class — whatever that is, though I have various thoughts on the subject — you’re free to be on your way.” She could do sarcasm too, though she was better at veiling it than he was.

  But he just stood there with that same look of superiority, and she struggled to her feet. It seemed to take forever, and Liam, realizing she wasn’t going to accept his help, just stood there, damn his hide, looking down his nose at her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some assistance?” he asked, reaching for her again.

  “I’ve got it.” Finally she managed to stand.

  “My father would like to speak to you if you can follow me,” he said when the silence stretched on for what seemed an eternity.

  “I would love to see him,” she replied.

  “Right this way.”

  She made sure to stay by his side. None of this two-steps-behind-richer-than-sin-monarchs crap for her. She’d prefer to walk ahead, actually, but she had no idea where they were going until they approached the large doors of what probably counted as the den — though who knew what these snooty people called it? No, it was probably the sitting room, or the parlor, because weren’t dens smaller? And this room wasn’t small. But it was still Whitney’s favorite room of the house, warm and cozy and with furniture that was actually comfortable. You couldn’t say that for most of the rest of this gloomy mansion.

  When she and Liam walked inside, Whitney stopped dead, because a large group of people were sitting and chatting, and dressed to the nines. For just a moment she felt a trace of insecurity as she stood there in her sweater and jeans. But that was until she reminded herself that these people now looking at her in a most disapproving way would be nothing but memories in a very short time. They could all lead their incredibly boring, proper lives, and she could enjoy her freedom.

  “Liam, where have you been hiding?” A woman looking to be in her mid-twenties — Whitney’s age, in fact, but clearly from another universe — rose quickly from her chair and rushed over. She gave Liam a chaste kiss and then returned to her seat, where she seemed to be holding court in the room full of people.

  “Alexandra, I’m sorry,” he said coolly. “I didn’t realize we had guests.”

  “How could you forget, darling? We’re supposed to be discussing the spring benefit for the opera.”

  His gaze flicked upward, but the move was almost imperceptible. “You know I don’t get involved with that sort of thing,” he told her.

  “I thought things were different now.”

  The woman’s whine grated on Whitney’s nerves. But this blue blood was ignoring her presence completely, so maybe she could slip back out of the room unnoticed. She’d find Frederick later.

  No such luck. Liam turned back toward Whitney, and much to her distress, she felt a little leap in her pulse as his sharp blue eyes focused on her. After his almost nonstop rudeness, she didn’t understand that leap at all.

  “This is Whitney Steele. She’s the maternal aunt of my niece and nephew — I spoke of them earlier in the week. Whitney, this is Alexandra Masterson.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexandra,” Whitney said, sticking out her hand.

  The woman ignored the gesture and turned back toward Liam. “Let’s go talk privately.”

  Before Whitney knew what was happening, Liam and Alexandra disappeared, and the chatting began again in the room, though of course it didn’t include her. She wasn’t sure if she should retreat or sit. Where was Frederick? Wasn’t he supposed to be meeting her?

  Before she could decide what to do, Liam returned and, without even asking for her permission, he took her elbow and led her to a chair. Immediately, a maid offered her tea or coffee. Whitney chose tea.

  The people were all so proper —hell, tight-assed was the way to describe it — and she found herself sitting there uncomfortably. Alexandra seemed to have a constant pout on her face while shooting Whitney a questioning look every once in a while. Who would want to associate with these people? To tell the truth, who would ever care to be around these idiots?

  “Here are your finger sandwiches, sir,” said Mr. Dixon while setting down a beautiful dish on the antique table near Liam and Whitney before going to other groups in the room and placing refreshments. “I hope you enjoy them, Ms. Steele.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dixon. They look very … appetizing,” Whitney said, eyeing them with doubt. If she were being honest, they looked quite the opposite. Was that cucumber in small pieces of crustless bread? She’d heard of canapés like these, but didn’t understand the appeal.

  Alexandra took the opportunity and pounced. “Have you not had a proper tea before?”

  She could only be described as catty. But even the worst of cats were better than she was. The woman, that detestable woman, delicately picked up a tiny sandwich and didn’t even eat the whole thing. One minuscule bite, damn her. Alexan
dra then set it down and picked up her wretched porcelain cup of tea, her face sweet, almost angelic. Wow, if looks were ever deceiving …

  “No, not really. I think the closest I’ve come is happy hour with barbecue wings and two-dollar drafts,” Whitney said with a smile. “If you don’t need at least five wet napkins, then you haven’t had very good wings.”

  While Whitney delighted in the expression on Alexandra’s face, she was afraid to see how Liam had taken that outrageous remark. But when she heard him chuckle, she turned toward him in shock. He quickly covered up the short-lived amusement — he’d have probably called it mirth — by coughing, and then once again making his face a blank.

  “Barbecue wings? Interesting. I’ll have to see whether the cook could prepare some for you.”

  “Where are you from, Ms. Steele?” Alexandra asked.

  “Oregon.” She wasn’t going to elaborate. She didn’t want to converse with this woman or with anyone else in the room. Including Liam.

  “You’re a long way from home,” she said. “When will you be going back?”

  Even though the woman managed to say it with a polite mask on her face, Whitney knew the question was in no way friendly.

  “I’m not sure yet. The children are getting to know their family,” she answered after a moment.

  “And you need to be here for that?”

  Whitney looked over at Liam, but he clearly wasn’t going to do a dang thing to help her out. She was coming to dislike the man more and more, if that was possible.

  “I’m their legal guardian, so, yes, I do need to be here,” she informed the wicked witch of the East Coast.

  “Don’t you feel they would be safe with their grandfather and uncle? I mean, it’s not as if they wouldn’t have proper supervision, or be lacking in anything at all. They’d have everything they could possibly want at their disposal.”

  “There’s more to raising and loving children than material things,” Whitney said. She couldn’t quite suppress her disapproval.

  “I disagree. Children raised in better environments rule the world as adults. Consider Liam for example,” she said, and she turned to look at him, batting her eyes.

  “Do you rule the world, Mr. Felton?” Whitney asked.

  He was silent for a moment and she couldn’t read what he was thinking, but she waited to see what he would say. Alexandra started to interrupt and he simply held up a hand, stopping the woman instantly.

  Wow. Whitney wished she could harness that power. She’d have far fewer arguments with her nephew — that was for certain.

  “I rule my portion of it,” he finally said, the slightest of smiles taking over his lips. And a whole lot of arrogance shining in his eyes.

  “I guess being raised in circumstances of wealth and power helped set you up for that. Nice job if you can get it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

  “If you’d been born into poverty, you wouldn’t have been able to participate in the activities or to ‘network’ with the bigwigs that obviously helped you to succeed.” It was an insult and they both knew it.

  “Whether I’d grown up rich or poor, I would still be where I am in the world, Ms. Steele, because I have ambition and drive. Those who succeed are those who want to.”

  “So you think the poor choose to be that way?” she asked.

  He gave her a curious look and seemed to actually think about his answer. She wasn’t sure if that was all for show or not.

  “I think those who truly want to better themselves will stop at nothing to do it.”

  “So, if you’re born into poverty and don’t have the opportunity to go to school, to follow your dreams, that’s all because of choice?”

  “For some.”

  “And others?”

  “Why are you pushing this?” he asked, his irritation showing.

  “Because I get sick and tired of people thinking they are so much better if they have money, especially if they were born to it and all its advantages. I’m a good person, have worked hard, but then my sister died, and I had to put a pause on schooling. Does that make me any less than anyone else?”

  She could tell what Alexandra thought from the woman’s cultured snicker. It was a good thing that Whitney didn’t give a damn. Unfortunately, she did want to know Liam’s opinion.

  “I will have to think on this. Let’s just say that you’re helping to open my eyes just a bit,” he said.

  She didn’t know whether he was mocking her or not, so she decided this might be a good time to stop this questioning, though she might get in one final barb.

  The fool really knew nothing about the way the world worked. She’d had all the drive possible, all the ambition, but she had very little to show for it, except for two wonderful children.

  “I’ll just finish by saying that if a determined person is going to make it no matter what, then it really doesn’t matter where Brayden and Ally are raised now, does it?” she told him.

  Her words stopped him again, and his eyes narrowed once more. He didn’t like the corner she was backing him into. Whitney couldn’t help but notice the gasp wrung from Alexandra, but she didn’t turn to the woman and acknowledge her. Why bother?

  Before anything else was said, a man who was obviously a member of the Felton staff approached her.

  “Ms. Steele, a package has arrived for you.”

  She rose slowly. “Are you sure it’s for me? No one that I know is aware I’m here.”

  “Your name is on the box,” the man said. “It was left at the front door.”

  “Um, thank you,” Whitney replied before standing and turning toward Liam. “Please tell your father I will look for him in a little while.”

  With that, she followed the staff member from the room. She was more grateful to him than anyone she’d ever met before. That conversation had taken a lot out of her — much as she hated to admit it — and she was almost desperate to get away from both Liam and that awful, awful woman. Whitney prayed that fate would smile on her and she’d never have to meet Alexandra again.

  “Would you like me to take this to your room?” the staffer asked once he showed her the package.

  “No, I’m sure I can lift it,” she told him, and wondered what it could be. It wasn’t exactly heavy, but it wasn’t light, either.

  When she got to the privacy of her room, she opened it and broke out in a smile. Several beautifully wrapped gifts sat inside the cardboard, and it took everything in her power not to tear into the wrapping without delay.

  There was no return label, nothing to indicate where the package had come from. The gifts were addressed, variously, to the children and to her.

  The holidays couldn’t come soon enough. Whitney wasn’t known for her ability to wait for anything, but for her niece and nephew she would.

  Why go back downstairs to those wretched people? A nap seemed so much better. Whitney fell asleep within minutes — that hadn’t happened in a long time — and she immediately began dreaming of a man she didn’t even like, and most assuredly didn’t want to dream about.

  Chapter Nine

  I’ve only been on horseback a few times, and it wasn’t snowing when I did it. Plus, I think the horses were about twenty years old,” Whitney said. “You promise she won’t buck me off?” She glanced doubtfully at the mare, who was acting all too innocent as she munched on her hay.

  “It’s a perfect day for a short ride, Ms. Steele. The winter landscape is pure and clean,” Mr. Smotter told her. “You said you wanted to do this.”

  “That was yesterday,” Whitney said. “I was caught up in the excitement of watching Ally’s delight when she got a lesson.”

  “I’ll be with you the entire time. You have nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Besides, Penny is fifteen years old — that’s really not far from twenty — and she’s incredibly gentle. She’s perfect for an inexperienced rider like you.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.” Whitney
had decided not to let her fears stop her from living her life. “But I will hold you to your promise, Mr. Smotter. If she throws me, I will remind you every day of the rest of my stay here that you were wrong.” She even winked at him, and her eyes held a wicked gleam.

  “And if that were to happen — which it won’t — you would be more than justified in doing what you threatened,” he said with one of his rare and valuable smiles.

  Just as she got comfortable in the saddle, she heard the voice that seemed to haunt her at every turn.

  “Mr. Smotter, my father needs you. I’ll attend to Ms. Steele,” Liam said.

  “Of course, sir,” the good man replied. “I’ll return quickly,” he told Whitney.

  “We can reschedule for another time. I’m perfectly fine with that,” she said. Hey, maybe she was going to get out of this ordeal without looking like a wimp.

  “Nonsense,” Liam said. “I’ll take Ms. Steele on a ride.”

  Mr. Smotter turned and left without another word. If Liam said he was doing something, there was apparently no questioning it.

  That didn’t sit too well with Whitney. “I really wasn’t that excited about riding. The ground is covered with snow — obviously — and I’m certainly no expert horsewoman. I don’t need to waste your time with this.” She began to swing her leg over to dismount.

  Liam’s hand shot out to stop her. The feel of his fingers squeezing her calf sent a sharp pang of electricity through her.

  “I insist,” he said. When he had Whitney settled again, he took the halter of a stallion one of the groomsmen had brought up to him.

  Here’s what really shocked her. Her mare began moving obediently behind Liam’s stallion as they went out of the stable. She didn’t have to use the reins.

  Neither of them spoke as Liam led her on a slow gait through the snow-covered pastures. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Finally, Whitney couldn’t stand the silence a second longer.

  “Did you and your brother grow up here?”

  Liam remained silent for a few heartbeats, and Whitney was beginning to think he wasn’t going to answer.