And this time when I moved to walk away, he let me pass.
Chapter Thirty
The next morning, Lady Winfieldstood on the drive. Her sorrowful expression brought me fresh pain.
“Your carriage is ready, Miss Kent,” Caldwell said when my trunk was stowed.
“Are you sure you wish to leave early?” Lady Winfield asked.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Thank you for having me as your guest this summer. I’m so grateful for your kindness and generosity.”
She gave me a warm embrace, and it felt like a final goodbye.
Caldwell helped me into the hired coach and shut the door.
The carriage jolted harshly down the drive, and I leaned forward in my seat, taking one last look at Summerhaven. It seemed impossible that I would never again see my most treasured place in the world. There would be no more morning rides on horseback, no more afternoons skipping rocks on the river. I would never listen to Damon play the pianoforte again, nor be challenged by him at chess.
I turned away from the window.
The coach wasn’t as comfortable or as well-sprung as the Winfields’ carriage, and it did not take long before my stomach tied in a knot. I wished for one of Damon’s ginger candies, Lady Winfield’s gentle voice, Ollie’s smile. If only I could hear Papa’s reassuring words or have one more embrace from Mama. Oh, how I longed for Mama.
But I was alone.
I’d lost everything.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sitting on the small baywindow seat of our London townhouse, I rested my head against the wood frame. The parlor was dark and damp and cold. Outside, rain pelted the window and trickled down the glass in dirty rivulets, and carriages carved deep scars into the muddy lane.
Since returning from the country nearly four weeks ago, London had been cloaked in perpetual shades of gray and black and brown, the rain torrential and unending.
I had not received word from anyone in the Jennings family or from Amelia. I did not expect I ever would. I could hardly blame them for hating me.
Ihated me.
In my selfish pursuit to win Ollie’s affection, I’d caused everyone so much anguish. Worse still, I’d believed my actions justified.
I’d told myself that I had to do whatever was necessary to turn Ollie’s head and convince him to marry me, not only because I loved him but also because I wanted to save him from a loveless marriage with Miss Digby. I believed her the worst sort of person, but I was no better, was I? We had both used people to get what we wanted. She used Ollie to get close to Damon, and I used Damon to get close to Ollie. We were one and the same, she and I.
In my anxious pursuit, I’d also hurt Amelia. It had not been my intention to betray her trust, but that hardly mattered. Time after time, she’d asked me if my feelings for Damon had changed, and I had not confided in her. I’d hurt her the same way her friend Rose had. Though I’d not meant to fall in love with Damon, I had. And I should have told Amelia the truth as soon as I knew it myself.
I deserved to be miserable.
But Amelia did not.
I moved to the escritoire situated in the corner of the room and pulled out a slip of paper, then set to work trimming my quill. I should have written this letter of apology as soon as I arrived home, but I had been too sad and ashamed and afraid.
My hand trembled as I dipped the quill into the inkwell, and then I painstakingly laid out my heart. Page after precious page, I detailed the entirety of what happened—how the ruse came to be, what happened during that time to change my heart, and finally, the mistakes I’d made in not disclosing everything to her sooner. I prayed my words would soften her feelings toward me so we could mend our friendship, though I did not expect it. I had not been a good friend to Amelia, and she was justified in her anger.
I folded and sealed the letter, then set it on the mail tray for Mrs. Potter to post. Sitting in the window seat again, I tucked my legs underneath me and stared outside at the falling rain.
***
Papa laid a blanket on my lap, startling me awake.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I did not mean to wake you.”
“It is quite all right.” I shifted in my seat, turning away from the window to face him.
