He proceeded to remove his cloak anyway. “I do not want you to be cold, Leah,” he insisted, trying to put the cloak on her shoulders.
She shrugged the offending item off, passing it back to Jonathan. “I have no need of it. I am warm enough.”
“I will not take it.” He moved a half step backward, folding his arms behind his back. “I mean nothing by this, Leah. Truly, I just want you to be warm, and there is snow coming. Can you not smell it?”
Exhaling her exasperation, Leah dropped the cloak onto the ground. “Leave me be, Jonathan. I do not want your cloak, and I do not want your company. Nor do I want any gossip, for my chaperone is inside. You should not be approaching me at all.”
You will be pleased to hear about these developments,her heart whispered, imagining what Nathaniel would say if he was standing beside her. But, of course, Jonathan would not have approached at all if Nathaniel was there. Nathaniel was the deterrent, painfully absent because she had chosen to push him away for her own sake.
“As you wish, but I shall leave that cloak on the ground until you are finished enjoying the terrace, just in case you feel a chill.” Jonathan edged further down the terrace though still close enough to conduct a civil conversation. “I did not get the opportunity to say it at the botanical gardens, but I am sorry, Leah.”
Leah’s head twisted, her eyes narrowing. “Sorry for what?”
If this was what Jonathan thought “not upsetting her” meant, he had sorely misunderstood. Evidently, he had not realized it meant that he was not supposed to speak to her ever again, even in a kindly fashion. However, if she simply ignored him, she knew he would gain some satisfaction from her silence, thinking she had become weak again.
“I am sorry for all of it,” he said, after a moment or two.
Leah sniffed. “That hardly narrows it down, Jonathan.”
“I am sorry for the way that I treated you. I am sorry for my bad behavior. I am sorry that I have made society miserable for you these past three years,” he replied evenly with no hint of insincerity. “I did it to lessen my shame, believing that if I could make you into a genuine embarrassment, I would somehow feel absolved of my guilt.”
Leah stared at him in disbelief. “Goodness, some truth at last. Harsh truths, too. How noble of you.”
“But you never became a genuine embarrassment, Leah,” he continued, undeterred. “Even that night before our wedding, you were not an embarrassment. You were young, and you were nervous, and you imbibed too much. We have all done it, yet I turned it into something it was not. I heard you, and I hear you now—I accept your declaration of love, three years late. I accept the declaration of love you made that night.”
“I made no declaration of love,” she spat back. “I said that I was not afraid of the future, though I was petrified. I said I would do my duty, though I dearly did not wish to. I made no mention of love. I might have been inebriated from the terror of being bound to you forever, but I remember that much!”
Jonathan smirked. “That still sounds like a declaration of love to me. I should have relished it, however foolish, instead of shunning it.”
“I beg your pardon?” For a moment, she wondered if she had succumbed to a terrible fever after all and was in the midst of delirium. That was the only explanation she could think of to rationalize what she was hearing.
“What I am saying is, I made a grave mistake,” he said, his shoulders sagging. “If I could turn back the clock, I would have been there at the church. That is why I have been so unkind to you since that day. I regretted it almost immediately, and I knew I could not win you back, so I punished you twice over formymistake.”
Leah rolled her eyes, so angry that she once again wished Nathaniel was there, so he could punch Jonathan again for her. “Whatareyou saying? Do you think I believe a word of that? You are trying to be nice because Nathaniel gave you a warning, and that warning must have scared you.”
“No, that warning gave me clarity,” Jonathan insisted, glancing shyly in her direction. “It forced me to think on all the awful things I have done, and I realized that, if nothing else, I owe you honesty at last.”
Bracing her hands against the low stone wall, she frowned at her former betrothed, seeking some semblance of mockery or jest in his expression. She found none, just a somber sorrow that poured more confusion into her already swirling brain.
“Very well. I accept your apology,” she said curtly. “It is all in the past, so let us keep it there where it belongs. Consider our bygones, bygones. And with that said, please leave me be and take your cloak with you.”
She picked his cloak up off the ground and stretched her arm out, waiting for him to take it.
He walked toward her, approaching as if he meant to take the cloak and do as she had asked. But as his hand clasped the thick, black wool, his other hand snaked up and curled around hers, gripping it tightly. Even through her silk gloves, she could feel how clammy and unpleasant his palm was, imagining she could feel the sheen of cold sweat seeping through the fabric. It was nothing like the tender, welcome touch of Nathaniel.
She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held on. “Release me,” she hissed quietly, aware of the other guests on the terrace. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but she could not risk being wrong. “See, you have not changed at all. Even now, you are trying to play silly games.”
“No, I swear it,” Jonathan urged, shaking his head in earnest. “I just wanted to hold your hand and thank you for your forgiveness.”
Leah glared at him. “I did not say you were forgiven. I said I accepted your apology; it is not quite the same thing.” She chinned toward the ballroom. “Go to your wife and be nice to her instead of playing the jester out here where you are not wanted. Indeed,sheis the one who made the grave mistake, and she is also the one who deserves an apology.”
“I am sorry.” Jonathan let go of her hand, pulling his cloak to his chest. “I honestly meant no harm, but I am only just beginning to learn how to be a better man. I suppose I am still making mistakes.”
Leah did not believe a word, and did not trust his intentions, as she turned her back on him. After all, the Jonathan she knew would never have apologized so quickly, if ever. “Leave me be. I will not ask a third time.”
“Of course,” Jonathan murmured. “Apologies.”
Leah expelled a breath, only to realize that Jonathan hadnotleft. He was watching her from the doorway. “Are you truly going to make me ask a third time?” she said, gripping the low wall.
