Chapter 76 A Pack OF Cards
The sound of Annabel's door clicking reverberated in the quiet hallway as Carson left her room.
There was a heavy icy knot of guilt and frustration in his stomach that felt like lead. He wanted to make amends, give an explanation and apologize but she wouldn't allow it.
Any angry outburst had been less effective than her reserved quiet manner. He was unable to get past the shield.
A faint mutter of voices interrupted him as he passed his mother's room. With the door slightly open a small amount of light was leaking into the hallway.
After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his ear against the chilly wood.
A lighter more melodic tone that he hadn't heard in years was heard after his mother's piercing authoritative voice.
“...Oh she's doing just fine, Holly.” Victoria added with a sickly sweet tone that Carson knew was a warning sign. “Just until she settles in again, she will be staying with us for a week. We're overjoyed to see her again.”
His mother's words were followed by a clear and bright woman's laugh.
That sound was familiar and it used to give him a twinge of regret in his heart. Bridget’s mother . He knew that laugh wherever he went.
A stab of bitterness twisted in his stomach. Bridget's parents were talking with his mother.
His blood froze at the mere notion.
Victoria's voice trailed off to a conspiratorial whisper as she said “Yes well its not exactly the same as two years ago now is it? Carson has a minor issue with his…maid….Really it's a silly little thing. But we'll handle it.”
Carson's mouth tightened. He wanted to storm into the room, fling open the door and demand an explanation.
He wished to tell his mother to stop using other people as pawns in her game. He wanted to let her know that Annabel was a person and not a problem.
Someone he was concerned about. His hand was just inches from the doorknob as he stood there motionless.
Anger and embarrassment were racing through his head. He was unable to confront them. Not right now. Not while his rage was roiling inside of him.
He walked down the hall to his own room avoiding the door. He didn't stop. He didn't turn around. Until he reached the security of his own room, he simply kept walking.
With a low moan from the hinges, he pushed the door open filling the quiet room. When he slammed the door behind him, the mansion reverberated with a loud thud.
With his head in his hands he sagged on the edge of his bed. A strong debilitating weight of self-loathing swept over him.
Annabel felt like a maid thanks to him. He had permitted her to be degraded by his mother. He had observed the event from where he stood.
The shame rose in his throat, hot and burning. He was aware that Bridget was the object of his mother's attempts to win him back.
She had been teasing it for months so he was aware of it. Perhaps even more so than his own Bridget's family was old money.
They shared the same world, exclusive clubs and philanthropic boards. On paper they were a perfect match. However his engagement to Bridget had been a business deal rather than a romantic one and it had been a courteous sterile affair.
Although he had never loved her he had respected her. She vanished without a trace two years ago after that.
After the police had looked for her and the news had gone crazy the media gradually moved on.
After selling their house, her parents moved out because they were too devastated to stay. In his own way he had grieved her and moved on with his life.
It had never occurred to him that she would come back. His mother was handling the situation with the joy of a well-played game now that she was here.
His mom had a method for achieving her goals. She had dedicated her life to projecting an air of elegance and sophistication but in private she was ruthless making her a master manipulator.
Although he had always known it, he had never experienced her full power until now. A sigh of sheer frustration escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.
He was supposed to tell Annabel about all of this but she would think he was lying.
How could he tell her that he was once engaged to the woman who had called him darling in front of her that she was back in his life and that his mother was already planning to get them back together?
She would think that he never took her seriously. Bridget wasn't who he wanted. Annabel was his desire.
It was the first time he had ever felt this way about someone. He had never experienced such a strong sense of attachment or an overwhelming urge to cherish and defend someone.
Actually he had never had the feeling that he was falling in love. It had been a quiet cozy kind of affection with Bridget.
It was a beautiful, dangerous and reckless thing that burned in his veins when he was with Annabel.
His pacing was restless as he stood up. With jerky, uncoordinated movements he went to his desk and took out a bottle of whiskey.
His amber liquid glistened in the light as he poured it into a glass. The burn in his throat served as a momentary diversion from the pain in his chest as he gulped it down.
A man caught between two worlds, he felt alienated in his own home. The world of Annabel is one of vulnerability and genuineness while the world of his mother and Bridget is one of expectations and appearances.
He was being ripped to pieces because he had a foot in both. He felt a great sense of hopelessness as he gazed at the empty glass in his hand. He had to let her know. He'd better.
He had to make sure his happiness wasn't ruined by his mother's schemes.Annabel needed to realize that she wasn't a problem that needed to be fixed. She was the woman he desired.
He longed to return to her room, knock on the door and implore her to open it for him. He knew she wouldn't though.
He had given her the bricks and she had constructed a wall. He felt a hot, stinging tear fall down his cheek. He was a moron, a coward
The only thing that mattered to the man was about to be taken away. A sharp crack sounded in the quiet room as he slammed the glass down on the desk.
But how could he defeat a ghost from his past that had unexpectedly reappeared? How could he defeat his own mother, the woman who had reared him and who held his future in her hands?