Chapter Twenty
Afraid he would make matters worse if he tried to talk his way out of the debacle he’d created in the Griffins’ parlor, Fitz left Gigi in her friend’s capable hands and returned to his room in the Waldorf-Astoria. He’d done what he could to ensure Brian’s silence.
There would be plenty of time to repair the damage. He would seek out Gigi and discuss their next step later tonight or first thing in the morning.
For now, Fitz needed to think. To do that properly, he needed privacy.
He slammed the door behind him with a bang and yanked open the top drawer of the small writing desk.
With swift flicks of his wrist, he laid out several sheets of paper on the desk and began reviewing the notes he’d scribbled after each consultation with the medical experts.
Now, with his future at stake, Fitz searched for something, anything, to give him hope. He’d asked each of the doctors if his father’s condition was hereditary. None had been definitive in their answer, but not a single one of the four had ruled out the possibility, either.
The last of the four physicians had been the most optimistic. The man had at least three patients with symptoms similar to Calvin Fitzpatrick’s who were also the first in their families to contract the brain disease.
Fitz continued searching for evidence that would allow him to go forth with the plan formulating in his mind. He would need to return to Boston immediately. The sooner he left New York, the sooner he could return and make things right with Gigi.
His future happiness hinged on incomplete medical research. He’d made risky investments before. Was this just another leap of faith?
He shut his eyes and prayed. Lord, show me the way. Give me a spark of hope, just one; that’s all I need.
He reviewed his notes on brain diseases again, losing himself in the process, managing to focus for fifteen uninterrupted minutes before his thoughts wandered back to the parlor in Luke’s town house.
And to the moment he’d all but declared Gigi as his fiancée.
What had he been thinking? Telling Brian Chesterfield that he and Gigi were engaged? He’d added to her family’s lie, embellishing a shared past that had only been real for him.
Why hadn’t Gigi stopped him? If only she’d said something. Her silence had sealed her doom.
Fitz wanted to claim her for his wife.
The tender kiss he’d pressed to her forehead had been out of reflex, not for show. And the look in her eyes when he’d pulled her close had not been revulsion, far from it. The way she’d stared up at him, with trust and gratitude and something more, had made him want to conquer the world, slay her every dragon, and keep her close by his side, forever. She’d made him believe.
Fitz would not saddle Gigi with a lifetime of misery for the sake of his own happiness.
Find a solution, he told himself.
He returned his attention to his notes, bending over to study them with squinted eyes. He wanted to make his words true, hence this desperate attempt to find some piece of surety that he could have a future with her. But there simply wasn’t enough research; there was no concrete proof that Fitz wouldn’t end up just like his father. The risk of contracting the brain disease would always loom on the horizon.
The prognosis was bleak. He felt a happy future with Gigi slipping away like water through splayed fingers.
Reading through his notes one more time, just one more time, he searched for something he’d missed. A tentative knock jolted him upright from the desk. His heart gave a few thick beats in his chest.
He crossed the sitting room and opened the door with a yank.
Gigi stood in the hallway, head high, spine erect, chin at a perfect ninety-degree angle with the floor.
At the sight of her, Fitz went hot all over. His brain was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t decipher the message. Gigi was the same woman she’d always been. Yet . . . not.
The last few hours in the company of her trusted friend had produced a remarkable transformation. Her cheeks had gained color. Her eyes sparkled.
The effect was devastating. Disconcerting.
Any words of greeting vanished from his mind.
“Are you going to just stand there staring at me?”
“Gigi, I . . .” His brain emptied. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I realize that. The look of horror gave you away. But I thought we should discuss how to proceed, now that we are, that is”—her lips curved in a sad smile—“now that Brian Chesterfield believes us engaged.”
“You’re right, of course. Come in.” He stepped aside to let her pass.
Her scent hit him, hard, tearing his resolve to shreds. Tell her how you feel. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She sighed. “You have put us in an impossible situation. The news of our engagement will surely reach our families.”
Would that be such a bad thing? Fitz didn’t have a definitive answer. “Brian will keep silent until after your sister’s wedding.”
“You can’t know that.”
“He doesn’t plan to return to Boston for months. And he’s not the kind to write home.”
She angled her head. “You know this for certain?”
“He told me after we left the town house together.” Fitz had followed the man out, and on the way to their individual hotels, he’d pumped Brian for information about his future plans.
“You trust his word?”
“Implicitly.”
Instead of calming, she seemed to grow more agitated.
Fitz hated seeing her upset. Especially knowing he was the cause.
“Don’t worry, Gigi.” He reached to her, took both her hands, and pulled her close. He wanted to kiss her. Mine. No other man could have her. The urge to claim her was primitive and nearly brought him to his knees.
He should not be touching her.
He’d done enough damage.
Reluctantly, he set her away from him. “I have a plan to make this right.”
“What sort of . . . plan?”
“A good one.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if I can believe you. You’re being awfully vague.”
“Hear me out. That’s all I ask.”
Seven seconds of silence passed. Fitz counted each one in his head.
At last, she relented. “All right. Tell me what you have in mind.”
Fitz took Gigi’s cloak and showed her to a chair beneath a pool of soft, golden light cast by a tall lamp. The setting was too intimate, too personal, with an inviting mood that put Gigi in mind of quiet nights at home with loved ones.
Oh, this is bad, she thought, staring up at Fitz’s lean, aristocratic face. His strong sculpted mouth was beautiful in the weak tendrils of lamplight. The tender expression in his remarkable green eyes called to her, making her want to believe he would take care of matters.
He smiled at her then, his eyes turning serious and full of intent.
Oh, Fitz.
She knew what that look meant.
He was going to propose to her, formally, for all the wrong reasons.
Why did he have to be so noble?
Why did he have to be so . . . good? Where was the distant, unfeeling man he’d been in the carriage yesterday? At least she knew what to expect with that particular Fitz. This one? She was at a loss. And her heart was too full of hope to think clearly.
Ever since he’d declared them engaged, Gigi’s mind had traveled down countless roads, all of them leading to the same destination. Marriage to Fitz. A houseful of children. Growing old together.
Gigi wasn’t sure they could be happy, though, at least not for any length of time. Fitz didn’t trust her with his secrets. He might be full of acceptance at the moment, but he would withdraw from her eventually. Especially once he’d fully reflected on the kind of woman he married. She was flawed and broken, ruined in every sense of the word. No amount of serving others would absolve her from her past. No amount of saying she was sorry could erase the harm she’d caused.
Worse still, they would always live in fear of discovery. Lies would have to keep the world from knowing what she’d done. Fitz would grow tired of keeping her secrets. And then he would grow to regret marrying her. Regret would turn into resentment. And . . . no.
Gigi couldn’t bear to watch him grow cold and detached again. For his sake, she should refuse his offer of marriage. She should give him no chance to ask the question. It was the one thing she could do for him.
And yet, she found herself saying, “Let’s hear your plan.”
“We tell our families we’re engaged.”
Something wonderful filled her heart. “Are you saying you want to marry me?”
“Forgive me.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I’m making a hash of this. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes reviewing a series of . . . calculations, and my mind is still half on the pages.”
His confession softened her guard, and Gigi found herself feeling a moment of deep affection for this man. How desperately she wanted to marry him.
“My father is much the same way.” She found the similarity endearing, which made her more than a little homesick and determined to mend all her relationships. “After a long day of reviewing contracts, my mother claims he is the worst conversationalist imaginable.”
“Then you understand.”
“Completely.” A horrible, awful spark of hope ignited. Perhaps they could be together. Perhaps Fitz wouldn’t grow to despise her. Perhaps they could make a go of marriage.
Stop lying to yourself, Gigi.
“I don’t think it’s wise to enter a pretend engagement,” she said, mostly for herself. “We both know what comes from lying.”
“Let me finish spelling out my plan.”
What more could he possibly have to say?
“We’ll keep the story simple and stick as close to the truth as possible.” He relaxed into a smile, the one she loved, the one he reserved just for her. “I came to meet you in New York and we fell in love.”
Those four words, we fell in love, touched the deepest chambers of her heart. A sob rose in her throat. She would remember this moment forever. She would tuck the memory in a quiet corner of her heart, along with images of Fitz looking at her with tenderness, affection. Love.
Hope tried to get the better of her. She ruthlessly battled it back. “You know that won’t be enough for my father.”
“We’ll tell him more, of course.” He smiled, though a hint of regret showed in his eyes. “I’ll admit that I’ve been searching for you since you disappeared, which happens to be the truth. Then, when I got word you were in New York, I came to fetch you and bring you home.”
Gigi pressed her fingertips to her temples and rubbed. “You are missing one key component in your story. What will we tell my father about the pearls?”
“I’ll leave that portion of the story up to you.” He gave her a sweet smile. She saw no judgment in him, only the solid support he’d shown when she’d admitted the truth, which somehow made her feel worse. “Whatever you decide to tell your father, I won’t contradict you.”
Oh, Fitz. “I won’t ask you to lie for me.”
But, of course, he would have to lie for her. He’d already done so with Brian Chesterfield.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. We’re in this together, Gigi. We stand as one.”
How long she’d waited for him to say those words, longer than she’d realized.
“I won’t abandon you.” The sincerity in his promise stole her breath. Gigi wasn’t sure she could love Fitz any more than she did at this moment.
Perhaps there was a chance for them after all.
“Of course, we won’t stay engaged for long.”
And there it was. The end of all hope.
She would not cry. She would not cry.
She. Would. Not. Cry.
“What reason will we give for our”—she choked back a sob—“change of mind?”
“Not our change of mind, yours.” He hit her with the full force of his stare. “We’ll say you broke off the engagement because I proved to be as coldhearted as everyone claims.”
She looked at him blankly, absently noting how the lighting in the room emphasized the nearly blue-black of his hair. “But it’s not true. When you let down your guard, you are kind and compassionate and—”
“I insist you walk away from this free and clear, Gigi. A fresh start, that’s what I wish for you.” His tone was both gentle and firm.
“Your reputation will suffer.”
“Hang my reputation.”
The monumental sacrifice he was willing to make on her behalf was staggering. “We must share the blame.”
“No, Gigi. You must be the injured party. I insist upon it.”
There he went, being noble again. Knowing that he would risk his reputation for hers gave her the courage to say, “If I refuse to go along with this plan of yours, what then?”
He said nothing.
“What if . . . what if I refuse to break things off?”
He closed his eyes and gave a slight shudder. “We cannot marry, Gigi.”
His tone brooked no argument. There was such finality in the words, as if he couldn’t think of a worse fate than linking his life with hers. But when he opened his eyes, she saw the flash of longing in their depths. It was the same emotion that shot through her.
Maybe, just maybe, he thought her worthy enough to marry.
Then why push her away? Again? She knew, of course. The answer was all too painfully clear. Still, she needed him to say the words. Gaining her feet, she held his gaze and asked, “Is your reluctance to be with me because of my past?”
She was in his arms before she finished speaking. He buried his face in her hair, murmuring her name over and over again. She clung to him with as much fervor.
“No, Gigi, never think that. Not even for a moment. You are brave and strong and I can’t think of anyone I admire more. You have endured hardships and have done more than survive. You have thrived. You have become a woman of honor and integrity. I am humbled to know you.”
The words she’d longed to hear, said with such sincerity. But also with such . . . regret. “Then why don’t you want to marry me?”
He set her away from him and moved to the center of the room, his arms stiff at his sides, his back ramrod straight. “Every man of your acquaintance will race to assure you that you deserve better than a life shackled to me.”
Why, oh why, had Fitz once again put up the invisible wall between them? She circled back to the beginning of their argument. “What if I don’t want to call off our engagement?”
There. She saw it again. The spark in his eyes that told her he wanted to take her as his wife. Or perhaps it was simply wishful thinking on her part.
Aware of the risk she was taking, she progressed across the room until she was within inches of him. Though he remained unmoving, she heard his breath catch. It was all the encouragement she needed.
“Admit it, Fitz. You care for me.”
Another shudder moved through him. “Of course I care for you. I have always cared.”
Most marriages in their world were based on far less.
“Would it be so bad, then, if we married?”
“It would be . . .” He swallowed. Shaking his head, he clamped his mouth shut and said nothing more. He looked absolutely miserable.
She saw the truth in his eyes. The love. Though he hadn’t said the words, Gigi knew that Christopher Nolan Fitzpatrick loved her.
There was no joy in the knowledge.
Finally, she knew what stood between them. If they had any chance of being together, Fitz must trust her, as she trusted him.
“Fitz.” His name came from low in her throat and sounded really quite wonderful, as if she’d been meant to say his name, just that way, all her life. “Tell me one thing I don’t know about you. Just one. Something no one else knows.”
He went still as a statue. “You know more than most.”
His vague response slammed into her like a punch. “You have a secret, something you’re not telling me.”
“You are very persistent.”
“Part of my charm.”
A shadow of a smile played across his lips.
Gigi responded in kind.
For that one moment, everything felt right between them, comfortable even, a solidarity that went beyond words.
But then . . .
Fitz’s brow creased. Somehow, Gigi knew the source of that look wasn’t her. She wanted him to . . . no, she needed him to share his burdens with her.
Without thinking too hard about what she was doing, she reached out to him. “Tell me what troubles you, Fitz.”
His eyes went dark and turbulent, then shuttered closed. When they opened again, Gigi saw the withdrawn man she’d left in Boston. “I’m merely worried about you. I put you in a tough spot this afternoon, and it’s tearing me apart.”
Just like that, the progress they’d made in the past few weeks was gone. But why? “Is it something to do with your family?”
A muscle shifted at his jawline. For a moment, she thought he would tell her the truth. Gigi waited, the world seeming to slow down and wait with her.
Fitz glanced at his desk, frowned.
She followed the direction of his gaze but saw only several slips of paper spread across the surface, a cup of writing utensils, and an inkpot.
He rolled his shoulders as if to relieve the weight there. “We were talking about our engagement.”
“You mean our fake engagement.”
His brow was furrowed once again, making him appear more confused than thoughtful. “The timing of our breakup will have to be carefully thought through.”
He wasn’t going to open up to her.
Gigi tried to shrug off her sorrow, but this moment was bigger than her, and she simply couldn’t find a way to get past the agony of losing Fitz. When she’d only just found him.
Pushed past her endurance, she gave up all pretense of control and glared at the confounding man. If she were wise, she would turn around and walk out the door. After, of course, she issued a dazzling set-down.
Or . . .
She could be a little more daring. She could tap into the woman she’d been long ago, the woman who knew how to attract a man’s interest—before one secret, scandalous act had changed her from the inside out.
“You are hiding something painful within your heart, Fitz. No, don’t deny it.” She drew even closer, giving him one last chance to confide. “Keeping it to yourself is hurting you. You need to unload your burdens with someone who cares. Let that someone be me.”
A single winged eyebrow lifted in surprise.
She gave him a soft smile. “You listened to me. It’s my turn to listen to you.”
Now both eyebrows rose.
It was a very intimidating look, dark, brooding, slightly dangerous. Most women would be cowed.
Gigi was not. This was Fitz. The man she loved. “Let me be the one you share your secret with. Let me be your helpmate.”
“I don’t have a secret.”
“Oh, but you do.” She placed her palm flat on his chest. The muscles beneath her hand were coiled tightly as a spring. “You told me so yourself, so it’s beneath both of us to argue otherwise.”
He looked so weary. Fatigued by whatever he kept buried in his heart. “Did you just accuse me of lying? Sally?”
Mutiny swept through her, making her bolder than she’d been in a very long time. “Don’t turn this back on me.”
It was his turn to glare.
“Go ahead. Stand there all silent and broody. But I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on with you, Fitz.” She poked him in the chest. “I mean it.”
“We’ve had this discussion before. I . . . cannot.”
“You mean, you will not.”
His expression didn’t change at the accusation.
“Please, Fitz, give me your trust.”
Making a sound deep in his throat, he moved to the small writing desk. He placed his hand over the stack of papers and took a long, rough pull of air.
Lifting his hand, he muttered something under his breath.
Gigi didn’t catch all of what he said, but she thought she might have heard perhaps it’s possible.
Not sure what he meant, she whispered his name. “Fitz?”
He drummed his fingers atop the stack. “I have to go to Boston.”
“You’re leaving? When?”
He drew in another careful breath. “Tonight.”
He couldn’t mean to . . .
“You’re going to speak to my father? Tonight?”
“Not your father. Mine.”
“But why?”
“I can’t—”
“—tell me. Yes, I know.” She bit back a sigh. “Will you return for opening night at the Summer Garden?”
For a span of three breaths, he said nothing, merely frowned down at the floor. “I will try.”
He looked back down at his desk, reached out, and stuffed the small stack of papers into an inner pocket of his suit jacket. His gaze shifted to Gigi. A moment’s hesitation, and then, in the next heartbeat, she was back in his arms. She didn’t know who’d moved first, her or him, but did it matter?
His lips pressed to hers tentatively, pulled away, pressed again. Fitz was telling her good-bye.
She thought she might be sick.
“I have to go.”
Her mouth went dry. Every muscle in her body tensed.
She’d just lost him, before she’d ever really won him. “You’ll want to pack. I’ll leave you to it.”
She walked to the door, reached for the handle, stopped when he called her name. “Gigi, wait.”
Her hand froze. Unable to find the courage to turn around and look at him, she pressed her forehead to the door.
Purposeful footsteps struck the floor as he approached. Closer. Closer. He reached around her, pressed his palm on the door as if to keep her from opening it, then quickly dropped his hand. “I prefer not to speak to your back.”
It was the desperation in his voice that had her turning. His expression was fierce, his eyes hot enough to burn. “Gigi, I vow I will do everything in my power to—”
She launched herself at him, all but burrowing when he pulled her close and called her his love. His love. Not a declaration, but close. Gigi had to struggle not to lose herself in the moment. “Don’t go.”
“I can’t stay.”
With those three words, all hope was gone. “Good-bye, Fitz.”