Dawdling, she prepared for bed, washing up, brushing her hair, dressing in the robe he’d bought her. She went to the windowseat and snuggled on the cushion. She stared out across the park, praying the roads would convey him home safely.
An eternity passed before boot steps sounded off in the distance. She sagged with relief and pressed her fingers to the cool glass of the window. Peering out at the stars, she whispered frantic wishes: that he was hale and unharmed, that he wouldn’t hurt her when their affair was concluded, that she would survive in the world as it would be after he departed forever.
He came closer and closer, and with each stride, her fears lessened. Why had she so calmly accepted that there was no future for them?
She was an optimist who tackled problems and vowed to fix them. Why was she so willing to concede a bad end? Why should she automatically assume that they would separate?
Yes, he was an earl and far above her in station, but he hadn’t always been. Until the prior year, he’d been an orphan whose sole prospect was his rank in the army. A stroke of fate had elevated him, but deep inside, he was an ordinary man.
They could wed. They could build a life together at Stafford.
Suddenly, her pulse was racing with excitement, and she told herself that she would do whatever he asked to bring about the finale she craved.
He stopped at her door, but didn’t enter. For the longest while, he hovered in the hall, as if debating whether to come in. He tarried until she grew afraid that he’d keep on, so she clambered to the floor, hurried over, and spun the knob herself.
They gazed at each other, not speaking, a thousand words swirling between them that couldn’t be voiced aloud. His color was high, his hair tousled by the wind. Masculine smells of horses and cold night air wafted from his clothes.
There was a bleakness in his eyes that made them especially blue. The cocky, conceited soldier had vanished, replaced by a troubled, weary soul.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Nodding, he stepped into the room and enfolded her in his arms. He crushed her to his chest, holding her as if he might never release her.
“I missed you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“When I learned that you’d left the estate, that you were riding around in the dark, I was so worried.”
“You should never fret about me. I’m always fine. I always land on my feet.”
He drew away and took her hands in his. They stood, swaying, like besotted adolescents.
“Where did you go?” she asked.
“Nowhere in particular.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just have a lot on my mind. I had to clear it.”
“Have you cleared it?”
“More or less.”
“Tell me what vexes you. Maybe I can help.”
“You vex me.”
“I hope in a good way?”
“Yes, in a very good way.”
He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on a nearby chair, then he walked to her bedchamber, leading her behind him. He lay down on the bed and stretched out, and he pulled her down with him. She nestled at his side, as he studied the ceiling, lost in thought.
His distress was palpable, but he didn’t seem able to discuss what was bothering him. Apparently, she would have to begin any conversation.
“What are you thinking about?” she inquired.
“You.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. “What about me?”
He traced a finger across her bottom lip. “I’m glad we met.”
“So am I.”
“I’ll always be glad.”
“I will be too.”
His tone had her heart racing again, but not with elation. He was assessing her as if memorizing her features, as if cataloguing them for later reflection.
“I have to return to London soon,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I never intended to be here this long. I’m due back with my regiment.”
“Will you travel to Stafford occasionally in the future?”
There was a lengthy pause, then he said, “I will as often as I can.”
“Will we still be”—she struggled to find the correct word—“friends?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about me and my sisters? What will become of us?”
Another protracted pause ensued, and ultimately, he asked, “Would you ever consider coming to London with me?”
“To London?” She laughed and shook her head. “No. Why couldn’t you stay at Stafford with me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. It’s very, very simple.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “When you first arrived at the estate, you had misgivings, but they’re fading. You’re changing; you’re starting to enjoy your ownership.”
“I suppose I am.”
“I don’t want you to go away.” She tossed the dice, risking all. “I want you to remain here. With me.”
“You’d like that, would you?”
“You would too. Please don’t deny it. You’ve never had a home of your own. This could be your home. We could marry, and we would be so happy.”
He chuckled, but sadly. “You have such a high opinion of me.”
“You deserve it! You’re wonderful, but you spend all your time trying to be awful. I see the special man hiding beneath all the bluster. You could be that man for me. I know you could.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. You could muster out of the army. You could come home. To Stafford. To me.”
“What would I do with you?” He smiled. “I’m not used to living around a female. You’d drive me insane with all your chatter.”
“You like me a tad more than you care to admit.”
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You could be right about that.”
“Is it because you’re an earl now? Is that it? You’re too far above me?”
“Gad, no. You’re very fine, too fine for the likes of me.”
She received some solace from the compliment. “Then what is it? Why are you so disconcerted?”
“I shouldn’t have visited you tonight, but I couldn’t keep myself away.”
“Of course you should have visited. If you don’t belong here with me, where do
