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Golden’s hand shot out and she pushed Reed backward and away from the front door. Quickly, she followed him out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
“What’s going-”
“Shh. We can’t talk here. Just get in your car and take me down the lane.”
The last thing she wanted was for Manchester to find Reed on his doorstep. If given the chance her stepfather would draw him in and ply him with questions and, knowing how manipulative the older man was, he would soon have Reed on his side.
She was hurrying with Reed to his car when she remembered what she was wearing. Her face colored as she realized the picture she must have made when she opened the door to the unexpected visitor. Sweat pants and an old T-shirt? She was still wearing bedroom slippers, for goodness sake. It was a good thing they were out in the country, in a region remote enough where they could drive along a tiny road and not see anyone. She would make him pull over at the most convenient point, let him say his piece and then he could be on his way. And that would be that. She would never see Reed again.
At that thought the bravado seeped out of her and her heart began to slide from its resting place down to the bottom of her stomach. She would never see Reed again. She almost came to a halt. She knew he was lost to her, he could never be hers, but still...the thought made her lift her fingers to her lips. She could feel a sob rising and she could not let it escape.
Head down, Golden slid into the passenger’s seat and watched as Reed walked around to the driver’s side. She drew in a few surreptitious breaths and by the time he got in and started the car she’d regained a tentative hold on her emotions.
He glanced at her. “Where to?”
“Just drive along there,” she said, jerking her chin toward the small road that branched off from theirs. “If you need to talk to me you can do it there.” He set off and when they got to a grassy bank shaded by trees she told him to stop.
Even after the car had rolled to a halt Reed said nothing. He just sat there, his hands still on the wheel, staring at the foliage in front of him.
Golden glanced over at Reed, waiting for him to speak. When nothing came she twisted in the seat, her body turned toward him. “Why did you come to see me?” she asked, her voice surprisingly calm. “You know I can’t work for you anymore.”
“I came here,” he said, his voice heavy, “to explain.”
“What’s there to explain? You’re married and that’s all that counts in this conversation.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to make you understand. It’s not the way you think.”
“Not the way I think?”
“No, I...was drunk. My buddies and I were in Vegas for Spring Break. I met this girl and...” he looked away, out onto the deserted road, “I...got hitched. I hardly even knew who she was. I just met her that night.”
He sighed then turned to Golden. “I’ve been trying to find the girl but I’ve got next to nothing to go on. All I know is, her name is Carrie.”
Golden frowned. Was this man serious? “Do you expect me to believe that?” She looked at him askance.
“Whether you believe it or not it’s true.” Reed’s voice was an exasperated growl. “I’m trying to find her to ask her for a divorce. I have to get out of that before I even consider anyone else.”
Golden tilted her head to one side as she peered into his face, trying to read his eyes. “And you were how old when this happened?”
Reed’s lips twisted and his fists tightened on the steering wheel. “All of twenty-two. Old enough to know better.”
“So you’ve been in this situation all these years and you’re just trying to remedy it? Why now?”
“I was a fool. When I couldn’t find her next day and a week after that and then a month after that I just pushed it to the back of my mind, pretended it didn’t exist.” He drew in his breath then slowly expelled it. “I just moved on with my life, acting like it never happened.”
For a moment Golden did nothing but stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve been keeping this a secret all this time? You spoke to no-one about this? What about your lawyer?”
He glanced over at her, probably to check if she was buying his story, but she was having a hard time swallowing what he was dishing out. “My older brother knows about it. I told him about it a year after it happened. He said I should deal with it but I ignored him.”
“And your lawyer?”
“It was stupid but I just wanted to handle it myself. When I was ready.” He shrugged. “I guess it was the embarrassment...the shame. I didn’t want anybody to know what a goddamn bozo I’ve been.” His jaw clenched and his frown deepened. “And then there was the denial. I was living like it never happened. I never even stopped to consider the seriousness of what I’d done. It wasn’t that important. Until now.”
Until now. His words reverberated in her mind. Did those words have anything to do with her?
But she would never know because Reed’s lips tightened and he said no more. And she would never ask.
Finally, Reed released his fingers and let his hands slide away from the steering wheel. He turned his face to look at her with dismal eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dead and flat.
Golden felt her heart tremble. “I’m sorry, too,” she said as the clouds of despair gathered around her. His tone was so final, so cold.
But maybe it was a good thing. It would make things easier for her, easier to do what she had to do.
She knew without a doubt that she would never return to Davidoff Fashions. She also knew it was time to accept the inevitable.
Before the day was over she would contact Lord Mountbatten.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Just do what you have to do, Golden. Do what you have to do.
Golden shook her head. Her pep talk was not working. Her stomach was still churning as she sat in the car staring at Lord Mountbatten’s manor house, trying to work up the courage to get out.
She’d called him the day Reed had made his surprise visit. Now, as they’d arranged on the phone, she was here to meet him to discuss arrangements for their marriage. She knew this was the right thing to do, the only thing. She just wished her heart would lift itself out of the depths of despair and help her face her fate without fear. Calling on every ounce of courage she possessed, Golden got out of the car and walked up the cobbled pathway to the front door. There she lifted the knocker to announce her arrival and with each bang she imagined the hammer coming down, driving the nails into the lid of the coffin that would be her life from here on.
The door opened and a plump, cheery-faced woman smiled at her. “Good day, Miss Browne. Please come in. Lord Mountbatten is expecting you.” The woman, who could only be the housekeeper, ushered her in and led her into the stately home. Golden looked around the spacious entrance hall, her eyes roaming over the elegant furniture there, all obviously antiques, probably dating back a couple of centuries. Her eyes lingered on the portrait on the far wall, a man of exceptional height, noble-looking, with a severe mustache framing his upper lip, a patrician nose and black eyes that seemed to see right through her. Lord Mountbatten himself.
“Please follow me.”
Golden tore her gaze from the formidable portrait and hurried to catch up to the woman who had set off down the hallway without her. The housekeeper took her through a maze of corridors until finally they stopped at a set of wooden double doors.
The housekeeper turned to her. “Lord Mountbatten will see you in his office.” She turned away, grasped the handles of the heavy doors and pushed them open then with a tilt of her head she beckoned to Golden to enter.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Golden stepped in. The ‘office’ was more like an enormous library, the walls lined with books from top to bottom. She took another step forward, eyes wide as she took in the opulent furnishings, the obviously expensive paintings on the walls. They couldn’t be originals, could they?
There was a sudden movement and Golden’s eyes jerked away from the paintings, her gaze drawn to the massive desk at the end of the room. The big black chair swiveled around and there she saw the stern-looking man, the living manifestation of the portrait she’d seen moments before. This man, though, was older, with strands of gray streaking his otherwise dark-brown hair.
“Golden, welcome,” he said as if they were old friends, the rigid mask of his face relaxing into a smile. He got up from the chair and came forward to greet her, his hand outstretched.
Golden did not take another step. She just stood there, her eyes sliding up the height of him until she was gazing at his face. She’d known the man was tall but now, standing in the same room with him, she realized that he was taller than any man she knew, maybe as tall as six foot five.
She hadn’t yet recovered from the shock when Lord Mountbatten took her hand in both of his, clasping it warmly like he was happy to see her.
