Page 49 of A Convenient Fiction

She flashed him one of her all-too-perceptive looks as she anchored the final pin into her hair.

“And I’m not afraid of the sea,” he added. “I merely prefer to stay out of it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Awake less than ten minutes and you already presume to lecture me?”

“I’m not lecturing you. If I was, it certainly wouldn’t be on the topic of sea bathing.”

His brows lifted in enquiry.

A faint flush of color rose in Laura’s cheeks. “Why do you wish to marry Henrietta? Is it purely because of her fortune?”

The question took him off his guard. He endeavored not to show it. “Do you think her entirely devoid of charm?”

“No. I think she’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful lady in Surrey.”

He almost laughed. She could say that, when she was sitting in front of him, looking like an enchanted princess come to life? His water nymph. The lady who haunted his dreams—who was, even now, threatening to upend all of his carefully laid plans. “Not the most beautiful, surely.”

She didn’t react to the compliment. No doubt she thought it was as false as all the rest of him. “I also know her to be generous,” she said. “And quite accomplished. Far more so than I am.”

“In other words, she can play and sing and embroider the requisite number of seat cushions.”

“Don’t mock.”

“I’m not mocking. Only acknowledging that I recognize her personal attributes—”

“Her many personal attributes.”

“Recognize them and discount them. For my purposes, they mean nothing.” He hesitated before admitting, “It’s the estate I’m after.”

“Edgington Park?” Laura’s brow furrowed. “It is grand, but nothing very special, I shouldn’t think. Does it hold a particular attraction for you?”

“It’s not the park itself—not the architecture of the house, nor the design of the gardens. It’s the property. The land.”

“The farm, do you mean? The crops, and the livestock?”

“Not only that. It’s the history of the place. The way it links people together. Anchors them to something tangible and real.”

She paused, seeming to consider. “I expect some people do feel anchored to the land. Especially if it’s been passed down from one generation to the next—and if it forms the bulk of their livelihood.”

“It’s not the wealth it generates. Not entirely. It’s something more than that.” He tried to explain, however poorly. “Land is the only thing that gives a man a sense of connection. Of meaning. Unless he has it, he never truly belongs anywhere.”

“Is that what you’re searching for? A sense of belonging?”

A lump formed in his throat. She made it sound so simple. As if he might have found it anywhere. “I suppose I am.”

Something in her expression softened. “You don’t want land, Alex. What you’re looking for is a family.”

Her words pierced him to his soul. He recoiled when she uttered them, his gaze jerking away from hers. He felt, for one stark instant, as if she’d knocked the breath out of him. As if she’d opened all of the shades in a darkened room, exposing him to the brutal light of day.

“Don’t you have a family?” she asked. “I know your parents died of the cholera—”

“They didn’t die,” he said.

Only three short words, but he felt the power of them as surely as he’d felt the power of hers. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he confessed it. An error in judgment that could put all of his plans at risk.

She fell quiet for the space of a heartbeat. “Didn’t they?”