Glittering Promises Read Online Free PDF Page B

see—” I began.
    “Everyone simply hush before any more damage is done,” he said, glowering at me and then up at the much taller young men. “Gentlemen, take a step apart. Now.”
    Andrew and Will took a last long, challenging look at each other, then dropped their hands and straightened their shirts and coats, never relinquishing their gazes.
    My father looked at Vivian. “I take it this was a lover’s quarrel? Nothing you two can’t patch up?”
    I sucked in my breath, finding it difficult to believe. Did he truly intend to ignore what was clearly so wrong between Andrew and Vivian? To what end? Simply because the patriarchs always thought the two of them would marry, unite the families? For appearances?
    Vivian still stared at our father, and I could see her soften, give in.
    “Viv,” I began, hoping to encourage her to do what was right. What was in her heart and—
    “No, Cora,” she said, pulling her shoulders back and wiping her nose with a handkerchief. She gave her head a little shake and forced a smile. “It’s as Father says. A lover’s quarrel gotten out of hand. I’m terribly sorry, everyone,” she said, looking around. “This is most humiliating. I’ve made such an awful mess, breaking all those panes of glass…” She took Andrew’s arm, and he stiffened as if he loathed her touch … but he seemed as trapped as she in playing the expected part in the familial drama.
    “Come, let us leave them to patch things up,” my father said, lifting his hands and shooing us all from the room. Numbly, I turned and walked out to the hallway, waiting for him. But my father didn’t look at me as he turned toward the stairs, probably intent on going to the salon and fetching himself a drink. I glanced toward Antonio, wondering if I had imagined what I’d heard, but all he did was give me a tiny rueful shrug.
    There was only one man who could put a stop to this charade, this madness. I turned and hurried after my father, ignoring Lil’s whispered warning to leave him be, that he wasn’t in any mood for further discourse.
    He was turning into the salon when I reached the bottom of the stairs, and I rushed in after him, pausing at the doorway to see him unstop a crystal decanter and pour a small glass half full. He took a sip, staring out a window that looked over a tiny garden.
    “She doesn’t love him, you know,” I said quietly, walking toward him. He didn’t startle. He’d known I was there, or expected me.
    “She loves him enough. She’s always loved him.”
    “Not as she ought a husband. Nor should she. He’s a brute.”
    That brought him partially around. “Stay out of this, Cora. It is not your affair.”
    “Father, Will and Pascal had to break down the door. And did you see the bruises on her arms?”
    He blew out a quick breath and turned back to the window, taking another sip, holding it in his mouth a moment before swallowing. “Andrew Morgan is…passionate. Spirited. He feels things…intensely. Always has. Even as a little boy. I can remember his face, beet red, furious because another child had gotten a finer toy top than he had received that very day from the mercantile.”
    He seemed amused by this memory. I looked around the room, wondering where Mr. Morgan was. I wished he were here. Perhaps if he’d been here, seen what transpired, he might’ve taken my side on this. Or at least seen the need for a private word with Andrew. I sighed and gathered myself. This was up to me.
    “Has it ever occurred to you that Andrew is angry because he feels forced into this marriage?” I asked quietly. “I truly believe they care for each other. But over the course of this tour, Andrew has become more the dutiful beau than any sort of man in love.” I knew I was right. The differences between Will and Andrew were marked.
    My father leaned against the desk and stared at me mutely for a moment, looking confused at such a thought, then angry. “Any man would consider himself beyond