Secrets (34 page)

“You deserve it. Of course, I'm not going to withhold your inheritance, either.”

Regina hugged him again. “Of course! I knew you would come around. Thank you, Father. Not just for the money Slade needs, but for trusting me to do the right thing.”

 

They arrived home at midnight, having left the gala in full swing. Regina's spirits had lifted. Her father had come around, so much sooner than she had thought he would. She was elated. Now she truly felt like celebrating. But when she tried to take Slade's hand, he would not let her.

When they were alone in their bedroom he withdrew, walking away from her to face the night-darkened window. Regina decided that now was not the time to discuss her father or her inheritance. But it was definitely the time to discuss their relationship. “Slade, can we talk?”

He turned slowly. His face was grim. “Yes, let's talk.”

She went still. “Why do I have the feeling that you're going to say something I don't want to hear?”

“You know me well.”

“Slade, I don't know you half as well as I long to.”

He took a breath. “This isn't easy. I don't want to hurt you. You may not believe this, but I have thought this out at great length.” He seemed incapable of continuing.

She was terrified. For she knew, instinctively, what was coming. “No.”

“Regina, this was a mistake from the very beginning.”

“No,” she managed, “no, don't start, it was not a mistake—I love you!”

He flinched. “Regina, we cannot go on like this. I cannot go on like this.”

She cried out.

“It would be best if you moved back to your uncle's tomorrow,” he said firmly, striding to the door. “Tonight I'll sleep in the study.” He paused. “I'm sorry.”

“No.” She finally found her voice, although it was high and desperate. “Don't be absurd. I love you. We have been having a few bad days, that's all, I—”

He gripped the doorknob, his knuckles white. “It's too late. I filed for a divorce today.”

O
ne month later, Slade locked up the house on Gough Street. He was finally returning to Miramar. It had taken him a month to dispose of his affairs for Charles and to find a replacement and acquaint that gentleman with his responsibilities. Not only had he locked up the house which he had rented for so many years, but he was handing the keys back over to the landlord. There were too many memories there now and he didn't plan on ever returning. But even so, he knew the memories would haunt him for a lifetime.

Regina had left him. She had left him the night of the gala, shortly after he had told her that he had filed for a divorce. That was a night he would never forget, one he wished he could forget. For when her shock had subsided, there was fury—so much fury.

“How dare you forsake our vows!” she screamed. A second later she had thrown a vase at him. Any temper she had ever had she had always controlled with ladylike rigor, but now she cast all such considerations aside.

He flinched, shocked at the display but saying nothing because there wasn't much more he could possibly say.

“You are nothing but a coward, Slade Delanza, turn
ing tail at the slightest sign of trouble! And you are also a fool, because we could be happy, we could be so very happy, if you would only let us!” She was sobbing. “But I don't have enough strength for the two of us, not anymore. Goddamn you!”

She had rushed away, running down the stairs, stumbling on the skirts of her ball gown. Slade found himself racing after her, torn in two, desperately wanting to call her back. But she was already fleeing through the front door, without pausing even for a coat, and disappearing into the night.

Slade wanted to go after her. He'd wanted to shout the truth at her, that he loved her with all of his heart. He was ready, so ready, to forget his resolve. But images of that evening danced in his head, images of her in her couture gown with her fabulous pearls, waltzing in the arms of bankers and politicians, flitting through the crowd, a beautiful and perfect social butterfly. He did not call her back. He did not go after her. It was better this way for her, for she was returning to the life she had been born to; soon she would marry her duke. And it was better for him. It didn't feel better—his head ached and his heart hurt—but the pain would be so much worse years from now, when she walked out on him.

Pocketing the key, Slade stared up at the empty, shuttered house. God, a month had gone by but the pain was still so raw. He felt as if he were bleeding inside. Would he ever get over it? Would he ever get over her?

He walked down the front steps, his vision suspiciously blurry, to the hired carriage waiting on the street. Slade saw that Kim had already loaded their bags. Usually Kim was hopping with excitement when embarking on a trip with Slade, but not today. He had been uncharacteristically somber ever since Regina had left. Slade had not been able to hide his torment from the little boy, no matter how hard he had tried. And Kim was such a source of comfort, dogging his steps and rushing to do his bidding as if fetching the newspaper might end Slade's misery and bring light into the darkness of his life. Slade didn't know how he would
have survived the past weeks without Kim underfoot and without his clever little ploys, all aimed at making Slade smile. And Kim had made him smile, more than once, despite it all.

But Kim was more upset than Slade had guessed, because one night Slade found him crying in his bed. Slade was stricken with guilt for distressing the child who was like a son to him. But Kim confessed that he missed “missee wife” also. Slade had cried then too, but secretly, so that Kim would not see.

Now he managed a mostly cheerful smile for Kim's benefit as he approached. “Okay, pal,” he said. “We've got one stop to make, to say our good-byes to Charles and Xandria, and we're on our way.”

Kim returned his smile hesitantly. “Tonight we be at Mi'a'ma'?”

Slade slid his hand into the boy's cap of silky black hair. “You bet.” He lifted him into the carriage, jumping up himself. “Tonight we'll be at Miramar.” He signaled the driver and they were off.

Slade tensed. They were going east on California Street, and coming into view was the D'Archands' home. There was no reason for him to tense up, because she was not there and he was well aware of it. Too late, he wished he had told the driver to take a different route.

His hand slid into the pocket of his suit jacket. His fingers slid over a letter so worn it was falling to pieces. He had read it a thousand times, he would read it a thousand more. It was, of course, from his wife.

The note had arrived four days after he had told her he was divorcing her and she had left his house. Upon reading it, he had been stricken. He had almost given in to his impulses and run to her uncle's and asked her to come back. Of course, he was stronger than that. He was more like James than he had ever thought; he was selfless and noble after all.

He knew she had returned to England with her parents and that they were no longer in the city. She had gone home.

But even while he knew she had returned to England, he brooded about the fact that she had never gone forward with his motion for a divorce. Technically they were still married even if they were separated by a vast ocean. She had signed the note
your wife, Regina
, a blatant reminder of the fact. What did it mean? It bothered him. It bothered him because secretly he could not help clinging to that fact, as if it were some sort of lifeline.

He told himself to be logical. She had left the city furious with him, furious and hurt. There had not been time for her to solicit lawyers and legal advice and to deal with the paperwork and bureaucracy necessary to finalize a divorce. Every day he expected an inquiry from her lawyers in London. No inquiry came.

He brooded, too, upon the rest of her use of language in the brief letter. Why hadn't she said that he would one day
return
home? She had said he would one day
come
home, as if he would be coming to their home, or as if he would be coming home to her. She had also spoken of his needing courage to do so, when her last parting words had been to accuse him of being a coward. It did not make sense. It almost made him think the impossible. He refused to succumb to fantasies. She had gone home to England to marry her duke—she was not at Miramar, waiting for him with patience, devotion, and love. But if such a fantasy were true, he knew he would not be able to send her away a second time.

But it wasn't true; he was a lovesick fool, and the more he indulged in daydreams, the worse it got. He had to try and forget her, but that was like asking the sun and the moon and the stars to disappear.

God, how he missed her.

 

Charles and Xandria knew he was coming and they were waiting for him. Edward was with them. Slade was not surprised. Despite his own desolation, he was aware
that his brother was keeping company with Xandria. There was at least a ten-year difference between them, and Slade could not fathom what was going on in Xandria's mind. But where once he might have judged her, he had no more judgments to make. He hoped that Edward's friendship might make Xandria realize that it was time for her to find a man to seriously love, and to marry.

Charles was somber; Xandria was teary-eyed and sniffled into a handkerchief. “I'm not crying because I'm selfish,” Xandria said, hugging Slade. “But of course I will miss you. I'm crying because I am glad that you are finally going home where you belong.”

“
Touché
,” Edward said emphatically.

Slade stepped back from Xandria. “I feel I owe it to Regina.”

The others were startled into silence.

Slade reddened. “The one thing she couldn't stand was my fighting with Rick. Call it her legacy if you will. But I am going home, and Rick and I are going to settle things once and for all.”

Charles stepped forward. “It's about time, Slade. Try not to judge your father too harshly. Remember, even fathers make mistakes.”

Slade grimaced. “It won't be easy, but I am really going to try.”

Charles embraced him. “There's nothing you can't do when you put your mind to it. You are as determined as you are smart. The next time I see you I fully expect your differences with Rick to be a thing of the past.”

Slade wasn't quite as hopeful as Charles. “Well, we'll see. Charles, I want to thank you again for the loan. You can't have any idea how much it means to me.” He meant it. He was no longer thinking of selling the Henessy place to generate more cash. Regina had loved it. He recalled all too well how adamant she had been against his selling it. That was her legacy to him, too.

Edward accompanied him to the railroad station. They left Xandria and Charles waving farewell on the street. Slade looked at his brother, seated beside him in the
carriage. “Why do I get the feeling you have something on your mind?”

“Because I do. When are you going to get smart and go after her?”

Slade tensed.

“You love her. It's obvious. Don't be stupid and stubborn. I don't know what happened or why she left you, but go after her.”

“Don't get involved in this,” Slade warned.

“But I
am
involved, up to my eyeballs.”

He looked at his brother very carefully. “What does that mean?”

“I knew all along who she really was.”

Slade stared, shocked.

Edward touched his arm. “I didn't tell you because I knew that you needed her. You need her. Admit it. At least admit the truth.”

“All right!” Slade was furious. “I do need her, but she doesn't need me. Does that satisfy you?”

“No! That woman is in love with you, you jackass, and she has been from the word go!”

“Leave it alone.”

“No. I won't. I didn't tell you who she was because I wanted the two of you to marry and find each other and find happiness. But you had to push her away. Don't you understand?” Edward cried. “After ten years, I thought to atone for my sins, I thought I'd finally be free of the guilt!”

“Atone for your sins? Be free of the guilt? What guilt?”

“I've never forgiven myself for causing you to run away in the first place.”

Slade was slack-jawed.

“I chased you away from Miramar. After that night, you never came back. When Regina appeared in our lives, with you now Rick's heir, it seemed that finally you were going to return to us. She seemed like a gift from fate. For me, holding my silence about her secret was a way of making up for all those years you were so unhappy.”

“You goddammed fool,” Slade cried. “My running away had nothing to do with you! I can't believe you've been blaming yourself all these years!” He was horrified.

Edward held up a hand. “Logic has nothing to do with the feelings a small boy has. Anyway, it doesn't matter.
You
matter. You deserve to be happy; you need her. Go after her, dammit. Find her and bring her back to Miramar so you can be happy and I can feel I've paid for my mistakes.”

“You sonofabitch,” Slade said, deeply distressed. “
It wasn't your fault
. Somehow you have to believe that. And—I am going home, and it's for good. But as far as Regina is concerned, know this. She's happy now, and that's more important to me than my own happiness. It would have never worked, Ed.”

“God,” Edward said, “you
are
a fool. Maybe I'll have to take matters into my own hands—again.”

“Don't you dare,” Slade said tersely.

Edward raised his hands in mock defeat. But there was no sign of submission in his eyes.

 

Slade had wired ahead to Templeton so that when he arrived at Miramar with Kim it would not be a surprise. But Slade had not expected his father to walk out of the house to greet him as he jumped down from the buckboard. Rick was smiling, albeit somewhat cautiously.

Once, and it seemed like so long ago, Slade had thought he would finally come home with Regina at his side as his wife. She wasn't at his side but he felt her presence as if she were close by. Heartache, never far from the surface, swept through him. He nodded at his father. “I didn't think I'd rate a personal greeting.”

Rick hesitated. “You do.”

Slade gaped. Then his eyes narrowed. “You get knocked on the head recently or something?”

“Not exactly,” Rick said wryly. “Although a little birdie's been chirping in my ears for some time now. It's a miracle I haven't gone deaf.”

Slade had no idea what his father was talking about.
They each grabbed a bag and walked into the courtyard, Kim running ahead to explore after receiving a nod from Slade. Despite the failure of his marriage, Slade couldn't help feeling a thrill to be back home. Miramar was in his blood, he could never be replete without it.

Just outside the doors to his room, Slade said, “Do you think we'll have early rains this year?”

“I don't know. The weather has been strange. The late-spring rain, the flood, that summer storm.” Rick paused, and Slade knew his father, too, was thinking about James. “Don't think we can take a chance. We'll round up the herds and bring them down before the end of the month.”

Slade agreed. Then he said, knowing that he was triggering the confrontation they must have, “But I won't be helping.”

“Why the hell not?”

“'Cause I'm going to be clearing land. In fact, tomorrow I'll be going back to town to put up help-wanted posters. I'm going to hire a dozen men. I figure I've got a month left as long as the bad weather doesn't set in early. I want to be ready to plant as much acreage as possible early in the spring.”

Rick threw down Slade's bag. “You still have that crazy damn idea! Over my dead body!”