Page 59 of All My Broken Dreams

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not free to spend the evening the way I see fit?”

Deacon laughed. “Didn’t Penelope and Millicent explain the house rules to you? They do things the old way there. Dress for dinner, always use the correct fork, cloth napkins, classical music and four course meals with wine pairings. Everyone in attendance.”

“What if I want to grab a burger? I never would have agreed to move in if I’d known about that.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a choice.” He sat down beside her. “What else could you have done? You had no place to live. Mrs. Cameron told me she asked you to move out.”

“I could’ve gone back to New York. I still have some of my father’s money left. It’s not a lot, but it’d be enough for me to live on until I got my life figured out.”

“You can’t study at Locksley Hall from New York. You have the Stewart estate. You’re rich. If life at Dugald Croft gets to be too much, you can pack up and move anywhere you like.”

“It’s not that easy. The Stewart estate is in the hands of the solicitor. He’s going to hire a manager to take over. I’m not sure when I’ll see a penny of that money. I couldn’t understand half the stuff they gave me to sign. Casey said he’d help me.”

He leaned back and folded his hands over his chest. “Do you like Casey?”

She peered at him. “Are you asking because you’re genuinely interested or because Alastair is expecting a full report.”

Deacon’s eyes clouded. “That’s all done with. I told Alastair I’m finished with that business. He’s not the monsterpeople think he is. He doesn’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

“I wish I could believe that. He’s forcing you to send me home tonight.”

He gazed at her. “No, he’s not. I won’t go against him, Robbie. I won’t grieve him with disobedience anymore than you would grieve your father if he was alive today.”

Robbie thought this over. “Alastair has a son and he treats him like garbage. I can’t respect him for that reason alone. You asked me if I liked Casey and I do. I like what I have seen of him so far. He’s more sensitive than his father realizes. Alastair is horrible to him. It’s almost like he hates him at times.”

“Alastair doted on Harry. He was his first born son, the bastard he had with his lost love, Sarah Stewart. Casey is the despised runt; the legitimate offspring of a hated marriage. It’s not my cousin’s fault he’s unloved. If Harry hadn’t come along, Casey might have had a chance. I’m glad you like him. It makes it easier, knowing that you like him.”

Robbie leaned her head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t make it easier for me. Liking him doesn’t change anything. I still want to see you. In the lecture hall, when I was in the middle of the panic attack, you came up the stairs toward me. And as soon as I saw you, I knew I was safe. I think that no matter what Alastair wants, he can’t make me care less for you than I do for Casey.”

“It’s six o’clock,” Deacon said roughly. “Time enough to get you home.”

“No, I’m not going. I don’t want to. Don’t send me away.”

He made a noise of impatience. “Don’t send you away? And when I do as you ask, what then? One day, you’ll see me mopping the floor and you’ll walk right past me. You hate Alastair for being what he is and I love him for it. He’s never struck me like my father did, or made me feel worthless in frontof a bunch of intellectuals. You did that, Robbie. Alastair has never claimed to like me only to ridicule me a few days later.”

Tears burned. She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Stop it. I hate myself for that night. I hate what I said to you. But you’ve hurt me too, Deacon. I believed you. I trusted you and you used me. I spent a year of my life locked in my apartment, protecting myself against being used, being lied to, being betrayed. You nearly sent me back there.”

He took her hands to pull her to her feet. “Then I guess we’re even,” he conceded wearily. “Go on. There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll make up the bed and give you something to sleep in. I’ll send Alastair a message that you’re spending the night.”

He got the duvet and pillows out of the cabinet.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No, but I can’t argue with you anymore. Go on.”

She did as he asked, being too tired and wrung out to talk anymore. Brushing her teeth and splashing hot water on her face was done without thinking, but she knew that every step they were taking tonight was building toward something that they wouldn’t be strong enough to resist.

Robbie dried her face on a towel, meeting her reflection in the mirror. “Do you think if we’d met in a normal way, you would have wanted to go out with me?”

“I think if we didn’t have such fucked up lives, we wouldn’t have met at all.”

The room was dark when she came out of the bathroom, except for the twinkling Christmas lights on the tree and the glowing fire. The bed was made up with an eiderdown duvet and a tartan blanket. Crisp white pillows were stacked against the backrest.

Deacon stood at the window staring at the falling snow. He was still fully dressed.

“I thought you were going to give me something to wear.”

He turned to face her and she knew something was wrong.

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