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The pups went with him, though, and he did the same walk he’d taken with Cara, down to the woods and then across the park to look at the house.
How lucky you are to live in such a place, she’d said.
He could hear her voice perfectly, could see her expression. Many people had praised the house, many expressed admiration, but from her it was different. The way she’d said ithad touched him. She wasn’t being materialistic or envious. She wasn’t trying to make him feel uncomfortable. She was simply paying respect to a house that had been in his family virtually forever.
But it wasn’t just the house she’d respected. She’d respected all of them—him, Frederick, Emma, Dorothy, as well as Trimble and Booth and Johnson. Cara had been genuine and open, friendly, kind, attentive.
No, she wasn’t from his world, and no, she didn’t understand the pressure he felt to support an ancient house, a half dozen Tudor cottages, hundreds of acres of park, woods, and meadows, but she understood how important Langley Park was to his family, past, present, and future. While she was in the house, it came alive, warm, welcoming, happy.
She made the house feel happy. She’d made him feel happy. And she’d somehow, miraculously, managed to make him realize how special it all was.
He’d chased her away, but even with her gone, she’d left him aware of things he hadn’t felt in years, if ever.
That he was indeed lucky. Lucky to be who he was, lucky to be responsible for so many memories, and such a rich history and heritage.
For the first time in forever, he could see how he belonged, and what he wanted. He wanted to fill the house with children, and raise them at Langley Park, and teach them to ride, and make sure they had the best education possible, but more importantly, he wanted them to feel loved. He wanted them to love Christmas as much as Cara did. And he wanted them playing games before the fire…
He wanted a future of Christmases like he’d just had. With Cara. He wanted Cara.
Grief filled him and the awareness of what he’d lost. It didn’t have to end this way. He could have made different choices.He could have handled the conversation so much differently. Instead, he’d frozen her out, played the indignation card, treated her as a stranger, as someone unable to understand who and what he was.
Alec was ashamed and embarrassed.
He’d handled things badly because he’d panicked. She was cracking the ice around his heart with one smile after another, melting his reserve, making him feel and need.
But needing had always ended badly, needing meant he’d hurt. Realizing he was in danger of being open, and vulnerable, it meant he was vulnerable to pain, so he pushed her away.
But love shouldn’t make one fearful, or angry, or weak. That wasn’t the work of love. Love healed. Love gave hope. Love gave life.
He of all people knew that risk and reward were impossibly intertwined. There was always risk in investing, just as there was risk in investing in people. People were not sure things. People were mortal, flawed, and frail. But people could also be impossibly brave, and brave people didn’t shrink from duty or from love.
He’d done his duty by the family. Wasn’t it time he allowed himself to love? He’d loved once. He could love again.
Wednesday evening after a very lonely dinner in the dining room, Alec drove to Uncle Frederick’s. His uncle was pleased to see him, and invited him in and made them some tea. He even found a tin of biscuits for them to share.
“Now what brings you here, Alec?” his uncle asked as they sat in the kitchen with their tea, since the dark blue Aga kept the old kitchen very comfortable in winter.
“I could use some advice, Uncle Frederick. I know I don’t come to you often, but I could use some of your wisdom.”
Frederick dunked his biscuit in his tea. “You’re not in financial straits, are you?”
“No.” Alec almost smiled, which would have been the first smile in days. “The Sherbournes are in good shape.”
“You’ll be inheriting my estate, you know.”
They’d talked about this a number of times, and Alec nodded reassuringly. “I’m good at managing money, sir. I will not disappoint you.”
“So what do you need? If it’s about love—”
“It is, Uncle Frederick.”
“You’ve fallen in love with Cara, haven’t you?”
Alec stirred, unsettled. “Was it that obvious?”
“You were just very happy. We were all glad to see you so. Your Madeleine was a wonderful girl, but she didn’t make you laugh like this, or smile, or sing.” Frederick gave him a piercing look. “You sang on Christmas. Remember that?”
Alec flushed. “I do.”
