I had no answer. I was still stuck on the part where she said she was a virgin.
Hope was thirty-one years old. How was she still a virgin? I thought about those suits. Edgar not letting her date. Choosing her college, her career. How long had he been planning this? What was he saving her for? I had to be his backup plan for Hope.
Unless Edgar Daniels had killed Prentice—or known he was going to die.
“Griffen!” Hope’s shout cut into my thoughts.
“Do you think Edgar killed Prentice?” I asked before she could get a word in.
Silence. I glanced at Hope to find her staring out the window, lost in thought. “Maybe,” she said eventually. “He couldn’t have done it personally. He was out of town on a business trip. The Sheriff has already verified his alibi. But he could have paid for it, I guess.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“I don’t know what to think. He must have interviewed Peggy as soon as he found out Prentice was dead. None of this makes sense.”
I waited for her to address the baby issue. I wasn’t going to tell her what Edgar had said about me having a target on my back. It didn’t matter. A baby wasn’t going to happen.
Sex was definitely going to happen. When Hope was ready. But children? No fucking way. We were not having a child to appease my dead father and Edgar Daniels. The will tied us together for five years. A child would bind us for a lifetime.
They’d stolen too much of Hope’s future. I wouldn’t take more than that by getting her pregnant just to save my own ass.
I waited for Hope to say something. Anything. It seemed her mini-rant after we got in the car would be it. No more profanity, no more anger or frustration. She sat beside me in silence, staring out the window, lost in thoughts she didn’t share.
When I didn’t think I could take the quiet any longer, I dared to ask, “Hope, are you okay?”
Weirdly, she answered with, “Why are we here? I thought we were going to breakfast.”
I looked up to see the granite and iron gates of Heartstone Manor rising in front of us, imposing and forbidding. I’d forgotten about breakfast. After the bizarre meeting with Edgar and Hope’s outburst, I’d apparently forgotten everything. I’d driven by rote, passing over roads I’d once known like the back of my own hand, and found myself at the last place I wanted to be.
Heartstone Manor.
Home.
Chapter Twelve
Hope
Griffen stopped the car in front of the gate and got out, staring at the entrance to Heartstone Manor, face blank. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else. I couldn’t blame him.
I’d been handling things pretty well up until we’d walked into Uncle Edgar’s office and I’d seen that woman sitting behind my desk.
I could deal with marrying Griffen to save the town, with giving up my apartment, changing my job, but at the sight of that woman behind my desk, I fell apart. I’m sure it wasn’t her fault. She seemed clueless. Peggy whatever-her-name-was had no idea what she was in for. Uncle Edgar wasn’t exactly a treat as a boss.
I couldn’t get my head around what had happened. Fired? How could Uncle Edgar fire me? Bad enough that he’d handed me over to the Sawyers like chattel in a feudal marriage contract.
But to tell Griffen to get me pregnant? To dismiss me as if my only use was as a broodmare?
Uncle Edgar wasn’t affectionate, but I’d always believed he loved me, if just a little. Now I wasn’t so sure. Had I just been an investment? A useful tool? But how was pawning me off on the Sawyers useful?
I’d said it before. None of this made sense.
I didn’t want to think about it anymore. This was my reality. A temporary marriage to Griffen. Moving into Heartstone Manor. I could spend the rest of my life trying to work out Edgar and Prentice’s motives and still come up blank.
I wouldn’t think about the hurt. The abandonment.
I couldn’t consider that I was suddenly adrift in the world, cast off by my only family and tethered to a man who didn’t want me. The weight of it threatened to crush me.
Griffen didn’t look like he felt much better than I did. He stood in front of his sleek Maserati, hands hanging loosely at his sides, staring at the open gate as if he’d never seen it before. I got out to join him.
“Do you mind getting breakfast later?” he asked distantly after the thunk of my door closing had faded.
At the idea of food, my stomach turned over in protest. “That’s fine. We might as well go in. Since we’re here.”
Neither of us made a move. It had been fifteen years since Griffen had been driven from this place. I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be back. I remembered the feel of his arm around my waist as I’d faced Uncle Edgar. Solid and strong, his support had been exactly what I’d needed as I felt my world crumbling beneath me.