Percy stood sharply. “Apologies, Brother. I believe there is somewhere that I need to be, and it is not here.” He brushed an anxious hand through his hair. “But please, do stay here for a while. I will return as soon as I can but… yes, I really do need to be elsewhere. Immediately.”
“I will be waiting to hear the news, whether it be good or bad,” Norman promised, rising to his feet.
Percy flashed him a grin. “Wish me luck.”
“I shall pray for it.”
Steeling his resolve, Percy ran for the drawing room door and sprinted into the entrance hall, where Max and Dickie had commandeered the bottom steps of the staircase.
“Sinclair? What is the matter?” Max asked, jumping up.
Percy paused, breathing hard. “We need to go back to Westyork. Right this minute.”
“Westyork? Whatever for?” Dickie arched an eyebrow, but something about his expression suggested he already knew the reason.
Pushing away the fear that surged for the longest and dearest friendship he had ever had, Percy looked toward Max. “I will explain. I promise, I will explain, but at this moment, I need to leave. Either you can come with me, or you can stay here with my brother. Whatever your decision, make it quickly.”
He rushed out, racing with all his might toward the carriage that had been abandoned halfway up the drive. After all, love made people do foolish things, and he was ready to do the most foolish thing of all—bear his heart to the woman he loved.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
“Sinclair, you are making me quite nervous,” Max protested, gripping the squabs as the carriage charged through the shadowed country roads.
Percy had asked the driver to ensure the horses went at their fastest pace, and the driver was not disappointing. It was akin to being caught in a most violent storm, the three men within the carriage being tossed and thrown around every corner, barely able to hold themselves in their seats.
“I am making myself quite nervous,” Percy shouted above the din of the carriage wheels clattering. “What a rare and glorious feeling!”
Dickie cried out in delight. “Dear Percy has come alive, Max! Do not spoil it for him with your endlessly dull questions! Let us all just enjoy this wild ride!”
“But I fear we shall notsurvivethis wild ride!” Max bellowed. “What is the reason for such haste?”
Percy did not reply, his entire body alight with a shivery, electric sensation that he could not begin to explain. For most of his life, he had been quiet and restrained, wearing a mask among society out of fear that someone might see him as his father had seen him: a weak, pathetic disgrace. The only times he was able to be himself were with Anna and her brothers, and even then, he had never been more vulnerable than with her.Justher.
He had thought it was the croquet ball to the head that had made him tell her his story, but he was beginning to think that the croquet ball had actually knocked some sense into him. It had made him see that Anna was the one person he could trust with anything, who would be entirely honest. And he trusted that she would be just as honest when he gave his confession. Good or bad, he would not be afraid anymore. Heneededto tell her, regardless of her answer.
And if it cannot be you, then it will be no one.For there was no one who could replace such a rare woman. No one who could even come close.
Just then, the carriage veered sharply, and a panicked shout went up from the driver’s bench. Nervous nickers sounded from the horses, as the carriage began to list precariously to the left.
“Blast it, Sinclair!” Max cursed, scrambling for the door.
He was about to open it when, by some miracle, the carriage righted itself. The horses trotted on for a few more paces before the driver called them to a relieved halt.
“There’s a carriage in the road!” the driver explained. “Just came to a sudden standstill! Spooked the horses! It’s a mite dark out here, but I think it’s one of ours!”
Percy’s eyes flew wide. “One of ours?”
“Aye, I think it’s the one left behind,” the driver replied. “It’s not one of our drivers, but I’d know that carriage anywhere.”
Percy lunged for the door, spilling out onto the road and almost losing his balance. Bracing against the side of the carriage until his legs felt less shaky, he squinted into the gloom ahead. Sure enough, it was the second carriage. The one he had put Anna into, meaning to kiss her goodbye for the last time.
How can it be here?
His question was answered a moment later as the door to that carriage swung open, and Anna burst out of it like a woman possessed. Wild-eyed, hair flying out behind her, her dress torn and muddied, she came toward Percy with all the fire and fury of a vengeful spirit.
“How dare you!” she roared, jabbing a bony finger at him. “How dare you leave me behind! Do you have any idea what I have had to endure to get to this… this… miserable place? I have had to dig a carriage out of the mud! I have been thrown this way and that like a ragdoll! I have had a horse eat my bonnet!”
For reasons entirely unknown to him, and most unwise, Percy laughed. He laughed so hard that his ribs ached, and he could not breathe, half leaning against the side of the carriage. It was the laughter of someone so relieved, so grateful, so astounded by the vision of wild beauty in front of them that they could not help it.
