He picked up his wine glass and drank, tasting nothing, remembering the rage that had burned inside him. “I got an acceptance from Oxford University years earlier than I should have,” Anger inside him, hot all this time, leapt up again. He stopped abruptly, gritting his teeth, hating the memory of how vulnerable he’d been “It still didn’t matter. And that’s when I realized how little I mattered to him. To either of them.”
Anna’s fingers abruptly dug into his knee, an expression of pain and sorrow flickering over her features. But again, she didn’t speak, leaving him space to talk.
“So I stopped,” he went on, taking another sip of wine. “And then I set about making sure that the world knew who I was, that I was alive and Vincent was dead. And that everyone would have to deal with it.”
Which was what he’d done. He’d made the world acknowledge him, forced it to notice that he existed, and notice it had. Every woman he bedded and every company he helped make a success made him more real. Anna didn’t speak, but he could see the gleam of tears in her eyes, and instantly his heart contracted.
“I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s not what”
“No.” She shook her head. “Keep going. It doesn’t matter. I’m just sad for you and that’s okay.”
Had anyone felt sad for him? Had anyone beyond his Aunt Diana noticed the lonely, ignored little boy he’d once been? Who should have been loved and adored by his parents? Or maybe they saw the truth? That there was nothing in him to love? The cold wound through him, a creeping frost tugging at the edges of his existence, wanting to pull him apart, so he stared hard at her, stared into her eyes, feeling reality harden around him, anchoring him.
“Dad didn’t leave me an inheritance,” Cedric said. “He left me a final test. He knew I would never planned to marry and settle down, never have a son. That’s what he wanted for Vincent, not me. This was his way of denying me, because he always denied me.” Cedric gritted his teeth. “Did you know that you were intended for Vincent? That’s why I chose you, Anna. It wasn’t because you were intended for me. You were intended for my brother all along, and I have the inheritance because my father didn’t have a choice,”
_______________
Clearly Cedric had said it expecting some kind of response, though what kind of response he thought he would get, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He’d chosen her initially because of that agreement between her father and his, and it was that agreement that was important, not for whom she’d originally been intended.
So she only lifted a shoulder and, holding his tortured gaze, said, “So?”
Cedric laughed, a cracked sound devoid of humor. “So? That’s all you have to say?”
His face had that taut look to it again, anger burning in his eyes, but now she knew what lay beneath that anger. A raw and agonizing wound. Just as she herself had been rejected by her father, he was a boy who’d never been accepted for himself. Who’d had someone else take his place and then had been rejected because he wasn’t that person and could never be that person.
A boy who’d been hurt and hurt deeply by the people who were supposed to have loved him. She could see the pain that caused, it was there in his eyes, though he tried to cover it with rage. He’d tried to be what they wanted and then, when that hadn’t worked, he’d tried to be himself, and that hadn’t worked either. It was all such a terrible situation. And that angered Anna.
His parents had been selfish. They’d had a caring little boy right in front of them. A little boy who only wanted to love them, and yet they’d been too mired to notice. So they’d ignored him. It hurt her. It caused her actual, physical pain. Because she knew what it was to be ignored by the only people who were supposed to accept you without question. Who were supposed to love you unreservedly.
To know that the person that you were wasn’t acceptable and that trying to be someone else was your only option.
Her father hadn’t much liked the child she was, it was true, but at least he hadn’t shut her out as completely as Cedric’s parents had. At least he’d acknowledged her existence. There was a lump in her throat that got worse and worse as Cedric stared at her. And what he was expecting her to do at this news, she didn’t know. Perhaps show disgust that he’d married her? That he’d taken his brother’s intended? Tell him that she’d rather have married his brother?
“What do you want me to say?” She fought to keep her voice level. She could feel the tension in his muscles beneath her hands; he’d relaxed as he’d told her about his parents, but now he’d tensed again.
“Aren’t you appalled at my temerity?” His deep, rich voice had a sharp edge to it, a bitterness that cut like a knife. “Disgusted by how I deceived you?”
“You didn’t deceive me. Perhaps if I’d ever met your brother I might think differently, but I never met him. And I have no feelings about him whatsoever.”
“What a pity.” The words took on a serrated edge. “You would have loved him. I hear he was a god among men.”
She took a breath, staring at the anger in his eyes, hearing the bitter note in his voice. And with a sudden lurch, she realized something: his parents weren’t the only issue. Cedric hadn’t let go of his dead brother. Because what was all of this but sibling rivalry? Wanting his dead brother’s intended wife. Wanting his house. His inheritance. Wanting the love that should have been his and that had been denied him. Her heart squeezed tight in her chest and before she could stop herself she said,
“Let him go, Cedric,”
He went very still and she felt the shift in his body, the tension becoming taut as a wound spring. His fingers had gone white around the stem of his glass, the way they’d gone white around the door handle not moments before. His eyes burned like a gas flame, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life.