“And explains even more why my father stayed away and did absolutely nothing to lighten the situation. He did not want to like her, and it worked. He is the first man in generations who has sired more than one child.”
“Do your brother and sister carry this curse?”
“We don’t know. I assume Margaret is free of it, but she has her doubts.”
“And the colonel’s obvious dislike of me—?”
“Is because he hates my idea of marrying,” Neal finished. “Harry, Margaret, and I are very close. They believe the three of us should not marry at all. They want the curse to end here, with us.”
“That’s what he meant,” Thea said, half to herself. She frowned. “You obviously don’t feel that way.”
“I think the curse can be broken. After all, father lived many years and had three children.” He dropped his gaze to his gloved hand resting on his leg. “And I want children, Thea. I want what you have. I hunger for it. I don’t know if my overwhelming desire for a child is part of the curse or what, and it has created a rift between Harry and me.”
Thea shook her head. “Did not your father pass away only a few years ago? He must have been of a ripe age.”
“He was sixty-one.”
“That is a respectable age to die, Lyon, and I mean no disrespect to his memory,” she hastened to add lest he think her callous. “After all, your father had three children. Could it not mean that he has already defeated the demon of the curse?”
Neal lifted his head toward her, his expression bleak. “I wish it were so. Can you not imagine the hell of living a loveless life?” He paused and then asked, “Do you not wonder why I quit meeting you so abruptly that summer? Thea, our friendship is my fondest memory. I would not have ignored you the way I did if this curse was a hoax.”
He leaned back into his corner of the coach. “My father learned of our meetings and came from London to talk to me. He explained the danger of the curse.”
“But we were friends, Neal. Nothing more.”
“Do you believe that, Thea? That it was nothing more?”
She frowned. “We were so young.”
“Yes, we were.” He turned his gaze away from her. Studied the passing scenery out the window.
“And you never questioned him?” she asked, uncertain if she was glad to finally know the reason for her friend’s defection—or angry.
“I did not. Sometimes when one hears truth, one recognizes it. I knew immediately what he was saying was true.”
Anger trumped gladness.
“You tossed aside our friendship over the silliness of this curse?”She moved to reach for the coach door. How dare he confess to her. How dare he have treated her so callously years ago. The confines of the coach were suddenly too restrictive. She needed space. She needed to stomp around and have a fit.
Neal grabbed her hand and brought her around before she could open the door. “I had to, Thea. It was necessary.”
“You didn’t send a word to me that you weren’t going to be there,” she said. “You just didn’t appear ever again. You could have said something. You could have sent a message or come to my father’s house and explained—”
“I could not. Thea, don’t you understand? My father feared our friendship.”
“Why? Because he thought we were going to fall in love and you would die?” she said, throwing the words at him.
“Yes. And he was right to fear it. I could have fallen in love with you. Can’t you understand that? I was in danger of doing so.”
It took several moments for the import of his words to sink into her brain.
And when they did, she was shocked.
She pulled back and he let her go. “We were just friends,” she whispered.
Neal retreated to his side of the coach. “Then why are you so angry?”
She remembered so much of that summer, but for her it had been friendship ... or so she’d believed.
