Because I Can (Montgomery Manor) Page 3

  “Are you sure that’s what you said before?”

  Georgia didn’t lose her wide and slightly crazed smile. “Absolutely.”

  Though she couldn’t quite say why, she didn’t want Monty to know she’d served his girlfriend in a menial capacity. It was one thing to look at him and feel her own lack of worth, but it was another to have that belief reflected back at her. She was always on the lookout for ways to feel more equal to him, not less—it was why she kind of liked that he was such a clod in the conversation department. It leveled the playing field. The Bore and the Beast had a much better chance of success than that other silly story.

  Ashleigh thanked her again for the shoe repair and turned to go into the house, and even Georgia had to admire the way she walked, a film vixen right down to the sway of her hips.

  She tried to give a little sway herself, but there was gutter goo under her boot and she almost lost her footing. With a sigh, she hopped up the ladder and made her way back to the garden shed roof instead.

  At least she had a pretty good view of the grounds from here. She might never own a place like Montgomery Manor, with its sixty sprawling acres and enough room to stretch her legs, but she did get to visit whenever she felt like it.

  It was a lot like having your Girl Card revoked but retaining the body parts, now that she thought about it. She might not get to be an active member of the club, but at least she got to stop by from time to time.

  Some days, that was even enough.

  Chapter Two

  “There’s no need to announce me. The last time I checked, there weren’t any emergency escape routes in there, so he’s trapped whether he likes it or not.”

  Monty’s grip on the phone tightened at the sound of the light, melodic voice outside his door, startled to find himself scanning for an alternate exit despite Ashleigh’s assertion that none existed. If his office hadn’t been located on the fourth floor, he might have actually jumped out the window.

  “Hey, Thomas—can I call you back?” Even though he looked forward to these conversations every week with an enthusiasm he’d have been ashamed to admit to out loud, he held the phone away from his ear, as if Thomas might somehow be able to feel his sudden recoil of horror. “Something has just, ah, come up.”

  “Uh-oh. Everything cool?”

  “Um, yes. Cool. The coolest.”

  Thomas laughed, the same way he always did whenever Monty tried to sound more age-appropriate. Working with teenagers—even levelheaded ones—was a constant reminder of how painfully old he was. “No problem, Mr. Montgomery. I know you’re busy, and I’ve got classes. The last grant application isn’t due for a few weeks anyway.”

  Monty nodded before he hung up, even though Thomas couldn’t see him. It was the most he could manage as Ashleigh’s voice once again worked its way through the door. “I’ll take full blame for barging my way in. No—don’t get up. I insist.”

  As if Katie, whose desk was stationed outside the suite of rooms where he and his father kept their offices, could have stopped her. Few people were able to withstand the force of Ashleigh Bridgerton when she had her mind set on something.

  He certainly never had been.

  “Well, Monty?” Ashleigh was, as always, a vision in business casual. He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he shifted out of work mode, but he suspected it was long enough that he should have spoken up. “Aren’t you at least going to say hello?”

  He didn’t particularly want to, but corporeal restrictions made it impossible for him to retreat into the woodwork as he’d have preferred, so he gave in. “Hello.”

  She laughed as though he’d made a hilarious joke, and for a moment, he got caught up in remembering what it was like. To feel he was witty and worth getting to know. To enter a room confident that one person, at least, was happy to see him.

  It was a mistake, letting his guard down like that. Ashleigh sensed his momentary weakness, and he found himself being embraced and air-kissed before he had time to blink.

  “God, Monty. You look more fantastic than I remember.” Her arms around him made a sweeping perusal of his torso, and he let her continue much longer than a gentleman should have. It was easy to get caught up in remembering what that was like too. “You also feel more fantastic than I remember. You’ve been working out.”

  I’m a ten, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “How is it fair that men get better-looking as they age, but we women slowly decay before society’s eyes?” She shook her hair and arched a brow. “That was an easy segue for you to tell me how wrong I am, and that I’ve never looked better. There’s no hurry. I’ll wait.”

  He had to smile. There was no denying that the past twelve months had been good to her. She’d been beautiful when he knew her before, always pulled-together and dressed to impress, and none of that had changed in the interim. She was lean and elegant, dressed in a business suit that probably came straight from Paris. Her hair was swept neatly to one side, the wide set of her lips parted in an enticing smile. And if there were a few tiny wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, they only added to her appeal, forced a man to recognize that she was real and had lived—and that both these things were to her advantage.

  She was, in a word, perfect. Perfect for him, perfect for his family, perfect for the cattle brand of a gate out front.

  “It’s good to see you again, Ashleigh,” he finally said. He didn’t see the point in indulging either one of them in pointing out her more obvious attributes. Ashleigh had always known her own worth. “Come in. Sit down.”

  “Thank you. I intend to.”

  He waited until she had arranged herself in the seat opposite his desk before settling in his own chair, unable to miss how nicely she blended in here, this room full of his favorite books and paintings, a room he’d refused to let anyone touch since he’d taken it over at the age of sixteen. The furniture was worn, the book spines were broken, and the coating of dust drove the family housekeeper crazy, but this was one of the few places on the Montgomery Manor grounds where he felt truly at ease. There was comfort in knowing that the one woman with whom he’d ever felt at ease fit in too.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Ashleigh asked.

  He could hardly tell her about the swirl of longing and regret currently taking up residence in his gut, so he settled for a tight smile. “I was just wondering what it is that brings you all this way.”

  She laughed again, flashing him her neat rows of teeth. “God, I forgot how much fun it is talking to you.”

  “And by fun, you of course mean painful?”

  “By fun, I mean if I want anything personal, I’ll have to dig in and pry it out of you syllable by syllable.”

  “I’m not sure what it is you want to hear.” Surely not an outpouring of affection. She’d been the one to break up with him, her sentiments of a year ago not as forgiving of his reticence. He harbored very distinct, very clear memories of that day. She’d said talking to him was like looking for a foothold in a sheet of black ice.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “Why don’t we start with pleasantries?” She shifted so that she leaned over the desk, her expression eager, her favorite jasmine scent stronger. “What have you been up to this past year? I heard Jake got married. I was sorry to miss the wedding.”

  “Yes, it was a nice service.” A bit of a media circus, if you asked him, but no one had. Since it seemed Ashleigh wanted more from him, he added, “I like his wife quite a lot. She’s been good for settling him down.”

  “There, now. That was something. Details and an opinion and everything.”

  “I believe your brother was present, yes? He came to represent your family in your absence.”

  Her eyes narrowed in a familiar warning, and an equally familiar constriction in his chest reminded him that not all of the memories
he shared with this woman were pleasant ones. “No one was representing anyone. My brother came because he likes Jake and wanted to share in his big day. It was a celebration, not a business arrangement.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “No, it wasn’t. To you, all social gatherings have to be part of a master plan or you consider them a waste of your time.”

  That was because they usually were a waste of his time, and nothing he was able to say or do would convince this woman—or anyone, really—otherwise. He didn’t enjoy himself at parties, and the vast majority of people didn’t enjoy having him there either. Most maxed out after two attempts at conversation, then studiously avoided him from there on out. He’d once caught a woman hiding behind a potted ficus so she wouldn’t have to go in to dinner with him.

  It had seemed more unfair than painful at the time. He was too big to use a plant as a shield.

  Because he spent enough of his time working with figures to appreciate that a zero percent return on his investment was a clear sign he was better off staying home, that was what he did from there on out. Stayed home. Kept company with a fern. Everyone was happier that way.

  As this was an argument he and Ashleigh had shared countless times in the past, he didn’t bother reiterating it now. There was no reason to.

  “Some people enjoy the company of others,” she said pointedly. “It makes them happy.”

  “I understand that.”

  “I’m not so sure you do.” Her eyes narrowed again, but she stifled the emotion with a shake of her head. “Since we’re on the topic of weddings, I might as well tell you what I came here for.”

  She reached across his desk and held her hand out, palm up. Those long, elegant fingers had once held so much of him, but he found it difficult to initiate the contact she so clearly sought now. He extended his hand so slowly he barely moved at all.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me first, Monty.” She squeezed, and it felt as if she were applying the pressure to his heart rather than his hand. “I always thought you were going to be the one for me—you know that—and breaking up with you last summer was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.”

  He didn’t know that, and he wasn’t at all sure he cared to hear more.

  “It took me a long time and a lot of soul-searching to get over you, but I finally did it. And a lot of that is thanks to the man I met in Nepal.”

  “You went to Nepal?”

  She ignored him. “His name is Martin, and we’re getting married.”

  Monty jerked his hand back and dropped it into his lap so she wouldn’t see the way it shook. Nepal. Martin. Married. He recognized the words, but they seemed to be making little impression on his brain.

  “Did you hear me? I said I’m getting married.”

  “Of course. Of course I heard you.” He must have taken longer to process her news than he realized, and to cover his discomfiture, he got to his feet with a start. The only thing he could think right now was that he needed time and space—a moment of privacy to gather his thoughts. Why were there always people around when he least wanted them? “Congratulations, Ashleigh. I wish you both well.”

  “Sit down, Monty.”

  “I’m very busy—”

  “Sit down.”

  He remained standing. Ashleigh didn’t get to tell him what to do anymore. He’d done what he was supposed to where she was concerned—loved her, cared for her, made room for her in his life to the best of his ability—and it hadn’t mattered in the end. None of it was enough to overcome the tedium so deeply rooted in his personality he suspected it arose from his soul.

  “Fine.” She sighed and rose. “We’ll do this your way. I didn’t come here to be cruel or to rub my happiness in your face, but the wedding is next month, and I didn’t want you to find out when the invitation arrives. You deserve better from me.”

  “Thank you,” he said tightly, hoping it would be the last word on the subject.

  It wasn’t.

  “That was supposed to be us,” she said softly.

  “But it’s not,” he returned. “You said no.”

  And there it was. Words he barely allowed himself to think, let alone say. He’d asked this woman to be his wife. He’d gotten down on one knee and said the words that never came easily to him. Love. Adoration. A desire to share his life and his heart with her.

  But she’d walked away. The price of his love had been lifelong companionship with Drudgery John—and it had been too high of a price for her to pay.

  “Surely you see by now that we’d have been terrible together,” she said. He could tell she wanted to take his hand again, but he kept them pinned firmly behind his back. “The look on your face when I walked through this door was evidence of that. You’d have welcomed Medusa with more enthusiasm.”

  That was untrue and unfair, and they both knew it. He hated snakes.

  Her expression softened. “You’re such a good man, Monty. You’re the best man I know.”

  Not good enough, he didn’t say.

  “But for the love of all that is holy, you have got to learn to let go sometimes,” she said.

  “I did let you go.”

  “Not me. Yourself.” She gestured around her, skimming over the familiar objects, the windows overlooking the grounds of a home that would one day belong to him. His things. His place. “There’s an entire world beyond these four walls. Things to do that aren’t related to work or the Montgomery legacy. When was the last time you did something for no other reason than to have fun?”

  Was that a trick question? He worked fifty hours a week running the Montgomery Foundation. At least thirty more helping his father with his hotels. He barely had time to eat, let alone play.

  “I can’t regret the time I spend helping others.” A lot of lives had been changed for the better because of his commitment to these four walls, boys and girls like Thomas offered a chance to say “I’ve got classes” without hesitation. Maybe it made him a proud man to claim those successes as his own, but those successes were often the only things that kept him going.

  “No one is asking you to.” Ashleigh lifted her hands in a motion of despair. “And that’s why I couldn’t agree to marry you. Not then, and not now, not even if you fell to your knees and begged me. I didn’t want to have to martyr myself to your duties in order to be with you. With Martin, there’s no question I come first.”

  He had the feeling he was supposed to offer his congratulations again, but he wasn’t sure how.

  “I wish you realized how hard it was for me to walk away like I did,” she said. “I think there will always be a part of me that never stops loving you.”

  “I’m happy for you, Ashleigh.” His voice felt raspy, dry, the words so long stifled they fought against the air. “I mean that.”

  “You don’t. You want to call your security guard and have him forcibly remove me.” She gave a watery laugh. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed at the news.”

  She came in for another hug, and he had no choice but to give it. He felt stiff and awkward, unsure where to put his hands. In another lifetime, he might have buried one in her hair and allowed the other to fall gently to her waist, held her until the rest of the world fell away, if only for a few minutes.

  But that lifetime was over. She’d come to hand-deliver the message, just in case he didn’t get it the first time around. Ashleigh had always been very thorough.

  “Your family is getting an invitation, of course, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to come.” She pulled away and straightened her skirt, a slight swipe of her fingers under her eyes the only indication she was anything but in control of herself. “It would be great if you did, but I understand if it’s too much.”

  He nodded. He had a strong suspicion he’d be working t
hat day.

  She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, pausing long enough to look back at him. “Oh! I almost forgot. One of the women who works here—Holly something?—was really nice about fixing my shoe on the way in. She found me stranded in the front drive and literally swooped to my rescue. I swear, your family always has the best luck with staff.”

  It wasn’t luck so much as his father’s exceptional skill in finding and hiring people, but Monty accepted the compliment as it was intended. “Are you sure it was Holly? She’s not much of a one for swooping.”

  “Well, that’s what she told me, but I thought she said a different name the first time. She was strange, dressed kind of like an escapee mechanic or something. A person fitting that description does work here, right?”

  He smiled, his mind immediately flying to Georgia and the almost texturized laugh from this morning he couldn’t seem to shake. Escapee mechanic sounded about right. “That was probably the handywoman my dad hires to help out a few days a week. Did she have a hammer strapped to her waist?”

  “Among other barbaric things. I wonder why she lied about her name.”

  “Maybe you heard her wrong.”

  “Maybe.” Ashleigh tilted her head at the open door. “I should get going. I’ve got an appointment, and I know you have work you’d rather be doing right now. It was good to see you again, Monty.”

  He wanted to return the sentiment, but it would have been too much of a stretch, so he settled for a nod. It was inadequate, as so many of his responses were, but some things would never change.

  “And try to have some fun for once, okay? It’s not healthy to live the way you do.”

  Now he really didn’t trust himself to speak, so he merely watched as Ashleigh let herself out. He wished he could attribute the feelings taking over to the wedding news, but that would have been a lie. While the pangs of heartache were present, heavy where they settled in his chest, the reality was that he’d now been called boring by a grand total of four women.

  Four separate, vibrant, interesting women who would rather do anything than face a prolonged amount of time in his company. Four separate, vibrant, interesting women who looked at him in the space of one morning and saw little more than a block of wood.