“Yes.” He moved to the horse’s side, no longer facing her, and tightened the cinch. “After yesterday’s excursion, I recognized how greatly improved I am.”
“A three-mile trip in a carriage can hardly compare to a ride halfway across England.”
“I shall manage.”
“I see.” She wanted to say more but didn’t know what. All along, since he’d first arrived, she’d known he couldn’t stay. Father hated him. Mr. Kensley was a threat to them, to their social standing, to the reputation that allowed them to walk in anyone’s presence with their heads held high.
If word of his illegitimacy was leaked, she would be ruined. Her hopes of a profitable match, one that would please Father, would be demolished.
She knew that. She understood. ’Twas best he should leave. The sooner, the better.
Yet when he turned back around and looked at her, the traitorous tears were back. What fun they’d had. Indeed, she could never go back to the library without remembering the rainy day they’d sat at the window and fingered pictures into the frosty glass, laughing at each other’s nonsense. How could she ever play chess again or take walks in the garden or drizzle the old and boring tapestry without him?
And the seashore. A knot grew in her throat, because the seashore would never be the same. “You are terrible.” She swung away—
He snatched her hand and tugged her back. “Terrible for what?”
She wanted to tell him this was not the time to grin, or to tease her, or to seem so easy in his manner. But she said only, “Terrible to leave without saying goodbye.”
“I have not yet left.”
“You would have.”
He shook his head. “I was coming to find you as soon as I prepared my horse. Did you think I would thank Mr. Abram for saving my life but not thank my sister?” He pecked a kiss on the top of her head. “Make certain you do sunshine and feel the seashore, hmm?”
“I shall never see you again.”
He turned back to his horse, mounted, then glanced down at her without quite meeting her eyes. “For everything, I thank you.”
“I am sorry.” She followed the horse a few steps. “That it must be this way. That Father is sending you away and—”
“Never mind all that.” He grinned once more, sunlight glinting around him, horse prancing in the gravel. “I should have rather had a sister these last weeks than never had one at all. God keep you safe, Miss Gresham.” Tipping his hat, he guided his horse toward the gate and rode away.
She watched until he disappeared. Loneliness ebbed through her as she wiped her eyes and ambled back inside the grandeur of the manor house. Strange, how quiet and empty everything already seemed. The polished marble floors, so clean not a footprint could be noticed. The somber-faced ancestors hanging on the walls. The soundless maids, bustling here and there, never glancing up. The breakfast room, where Father smiled at her and continued on with his cup of cocoa and his unwrinkled newspaper.
She’d never realized herself to be so alone until Mr. Kensley came and left. But she’d made Father a promise.
From this day forth, she would never see her brother again.
CHAPTER 8
For the third time today, William eased himself off Duke and hobbled to the edge of the road. He leaned against a mossy stone wall, hand on his thigh, exhaustion aching in his muscles. Only three days into his journey and he was beginning to wonder if he’d make it.
He plucked a few grass blades. Miss Gresham had been right. A short carriage ride was not quite comparable to a horse ride from Northumberland to Leicestershire.
Miss Gresham.He stayed on the name, amused by the way she’d angered at the thought of him leaving without a goodbye. Then tears had misted her eyes.
Tears forhim.
Hadn’t she cried when he’d been injured? When he’d been locked in the black room, teetering on the cutting edge of death? What made her care for him so?
She’d certainly not inherited her affectionate spirit from her father.
Two images loomed in William’s mind. One of his mother, trapped in the framed picture, beautiful and delicate and sad. Then Lord Gresham. Tall, broad, firm, unrelenting, powerful in both voice and look. They had loved each other?
Strange, that. He couldn’t reconcile the two images.
Or imagine himself a part of either of them.
