“Let’s go home,” he said, with a rough exhalation. “Do you need to pack?”
“There are a few things I should grab. I’ll worry about the rest later. You can come in if you want.”
He looked up at the sun beaming from the clear blue sky. Clyde couldn’t have died on a prettier spring day.
“I think I’ll wait out here,” he said.
I pushed open the door and glanced around the front hall, my mind momentarily blanking. Technically, everything in this house was mine now. I didn’t want any of it. What I wanted was never to have to see or think about it again.
I forced myself to walk up the stairs to my room—the small sitting room that held my desk and bookcase and a large closet full of clothes. I’d had to sleep with Clyde in the master bedroom, of course.
A rush of urgency swept over me. I grabbed a large hobo-style purse and started shoving the few items I did actually want to keep—the items I’d brought from home in the first place—into it. A few pieces of jewelry that’d belonged to my mother. Three favorite novels. A scarf, a pair of black kitten heels that never pinched my feet, the laptop with its methodically scrubbed history. The two dresses that’d survived Clyde’s purges.
I paused and stared at the outfits stuffed into the rest of the closet. The clothes Clyde had bought for me, that he’d insisted I wear. Low cut on top, high on the bottom, covering as little flesh as possible at all times. Silk and satin and a maid uniform that was way too “dirty” to be used for cleaning.
A different emotion gripped me, fierce and forceful enough to make my jaw clench.
I marched down to the kitchen, found a garbage bag, and strode back to my room. Then I yanked dresses and tops and lingerie off the hangers in savage abandon. I stuffed everything I could into the garbage bag, slung the purse over my shoulder, and hauled the rest of the stash down the stairs.
Ezra raised his eyebrows when I dragged the garbage bag through the doorway. I gave him a tight little smile.
“When we get back to the mansion, I’m burning all of this in the backyard.”
My brother let out a low chuckle. “I’ll bring you some lighter fluid to get it started.”
He helped me toss the garbage bag into the trunk. As I got into the car, the familiar smooth amber scent of the cologne the Noble men favored wrapped around me. Dad had worn it too.
My throat constricted, and I found myself hugging the purse to my chest. Ezra had said we were going “home,” but the Noble mansion didn’t exactly feel like home anymore. It was where I’d grown up, sure, but it was also where my father had bartered me off within weeks of my eighteenth birthday.
But he was gone too, and there were other familiar faces I’d be looking forward to seeing there.
“How are Roland and Wylder?” I asked as Ezra got in beside me.
My brother had a damn good poker face too. I only noticed the tick of his jaw and the momentary tightening of his hands at the mention of my nephews because I knew him so well—and because being observant had been the key to my survival.
“Roland left,” he said brusquely, starting the engine. “Wylder’s had to step up. He’s… getting there.”
I blinked at him, unable to hide my shock. “Left? When? What happened?”
“He decided he didn’t want any part of the family anymore,” Ezra said. “Took the funds he could get his hands on and vanished, about a year after you got married.” He paused. “I forgot you didn’t know. You have a lot to catch up on.”
I’d noticed Roland’s absence at Dad’s funeral, but I’d been too distracted to make a thing out of it—and had known better than to pry about Noble business while Clyde was hovering over me. It’d never occurred to me something this extreme had happened.
Ezra’s tone told me that he didn’t have anything else to say on the specific subject of his elder son. Suddenly the signs of aging made even more sense. How hard had it hit him to lose the son he’d put so much energy into shaping in his image?
A year after my marriage. Roland would have been eighteen. He’d seen the life ahead of him… and run.
I could have done the same, couldn’t I? I’d been facing a hell of a lot worse fate than he had. To a lot of people, he’d thrown away an honor. I strained my mind for any memory that might have clued me in to the fact that he’d been fracturing under the pressure, but he’d gotten pretty distant from me in the last few years before Clyde. I’d assumed he was just focused on finding his place in the business. It appeared he’d actually been focused on finding his wayoutof it.
Obviously Ezra and Dad hadn’t been able to track him down. I’d assumed there wasn’t any point in me running, that it’d only make things worse. But then, I’d only had a few days to prepare between finding out about my marriage and being escorted into the church. I’d had a lot less access to our holdings than Roland would have had.
And maybe some part of me had believed that it’d have been beneath me as a Noble to run away, no matter what I was facing. Dad had managed to drill that much pride into me, whether it was to my benefit or not.
The engine purred as Ezra pulled onto the road and headed toward the highway. He glanced over at me. “You’ll be under my authority now. I’ll have plenty of work for you, but beyond that, your time will be yours. Nothing like Hoffman is ever going to happen again.”
He meant the statement to be reassuring, but I had the impression of a vise tightening around me. I couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t asked how I was or whether I was okay. What I mightwantto do with my life from here. He simply assumed he knew best.
He’d never been exactly warm. Dad hadn’t let him be. And now, with Roland gone and the greater responsibilities of leadership resting on Ezra’s shoulders, he’d hardened even more.
WasI free, or was I simply moving from one cage to another?