Not in the least. “I know exactly how that feels,” Greg said, surprising himself by saying those words aloud. But it was true. That was exactly how he felt about Marina. Exactly. He missed who he’d thought she was, but if he could’ve had just one last conversation with her, knowing who she truly was…well, he felt confident he could have moved past her long before now. “You haven’t thought about finding your mother?”
“To what end? So she can spin lie after lie about how much she loved all of us?” Bella shook her head. “She still left us, Greg. And I know why. She hated Grandfather’s domineering nature, but she had a choice. And she chose to leave us behind. Finding her won’t change that and it won’t change the fact that she isn’t the mother I needed when I needed her.”
And she didn’t even sound sad about that. Just very matter-of-fact as though she’d given the situation a great amount of thought and decided her mother wasn’t worth all the agony and grief in the end. Greg released a sigh he hadn’t known he was holding. Was it possible he could ever reach that same place in his life? That his history with Marina could be washed away like pebbles into the ocean?
“Is that how you want to sit?” she asked, looking back at him, her brow lifted in question.
Leaning back against his sister’s settee, feeling sorry for himself? “Not quite the most regal position, is it?”
She laughed as she shook her head. “But you do look comfortable. There’s no reason you have to look regal or stiff.”
“Think how disappointed Cordie will be if I don’t have a smug expression,” he said.
And that only made her laugh harder. “I would never call you smug.”
“And that, my dear, is why you’re my favorite fiancée.”
Chapter 14
After a blue blobof paint had landed on her dress the day before, Bella had been certain to bring her smock with her to Clayworth House today. She strode into the countess’ sitting room and found Greg already there, in the corner, looking over her canvas.
“This looks nothing like me,” he said at her entrance.
The man was not artistic, she reminded herself. “Not yet.” Bella narrowed her eyes on him. “But you’re not supposed to look at it until I’m finished, Greg.” It was just a mess of colors and shapes at this point. It wouldn’t look like anything to anyone except for her.
He flashed her a smile that made her knees slightly weak. “Can’t blame me for being curious.”
No, but she could blame him for making her belly flip. How did he do that? And on so regular a basis?
“Phoebe says you ride. Any chance you could be talked into going to the park today instead of painting?”
“Instead of painting?” she echoed.
“Well, for just an hour or so.” He flashed her that grin again. “One’s muscles get stiff sitting in the same spot for hours on end.”
When he smiled at her like that, it would be difficult to deny him anything.
“I just bought an Andalusian this week,” he continued. “I’m anxious to take her for a ride, but if you’d rather not…”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I’m happy to go for a ride. I’m not dressed for it, but—”
He winced slightly. “Of course not. It was a foolish suggestion.”
“Well, you have your new Andalusian. I can see—”
“Tomorrow,” Greg said with a nod. “We’ll go riding tomorrow. How’s that?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. “You’re sure you don’t mind sitting in the same spot today?”
“I’ll muddle through.” He winked at her. Then he started toward the settee to resume his spot from the day before.
“Oh!” Bella lifted up her smock in her hand. “Would you mind tying this around me?”
“Of course not,” he agreed with a nod.
Bella slipped the smock over her head and Greg came up behind her, grasping the sash in his hands. “You smell wonderful,” he said near her ear, making a shiver race across her skin.
Goodness. Was someone nearby who needed to be convinced of their betrothal? She glanced over her shoulder at him, so very close, close enough for him to kiss her again if he was of a mind to do so. Bella swallowed a bit nervously before muttering, “Sweet pea oil in my bath.”