She could breathe easy.
But before she drew a single breath, Jonathan’s gaze returned with redoubled tenderness. Her heart leapt into her throat—and this time, her fears were borne out.
“I was not so afflicted as I should have been,” he said in a tone filled with unmistakable meaning. “For any momentary distraction could not but give way, and very soon, to thoughts of you.”
Seven
CLAIRE’S FACE must have betrayed the question roaring in her mind—Then why the dickens did you not come back?—since Jonathan answered as if she’d spoken aloud.
“I wanted to come back. I would have come in an instant had I any hope of winning you over. But I knew all hope must be in vain.”
Claire found that she was holding her breath. “How did you know?”
He raised a brow. “You told me so yourself. Wretched as I’ve been—difficult as it was to stay away—I was never so far beyond honor as to consider forcing my attentions upon a woman who had declined them. Have you forgot what you said to me in the carriage sweep? I have not.”
Nor had she.
Those words would be burned into her brain until her dying day, for she’d had ample time to rehearse them while Jonathan rushed about making all the arrangements for his departure. And as they’d parted ways in the snow-covered sweep, she’d delivered her speech with a quiet ferocity that had satisfied her pride—if nothing else.
“Should you go,” she’d told him, “you’re not to come back here. Not ever. Nor may you write to me, seek me out, or approach me in public. I never want to see you again.”
His eyes had pleaded with her. “You know I must go.”
“You’re choosing to go. You’re choosing her. And by the time you’ve seen your mistake, it will be too late. I’ll be lost to you forever. So make your choice now…and live with the consequences.”
Though tears had run down her cheeks, she’d held his gaze and refused to wipe them away. Let him see what his betrayal was doing to her. Let him—a man who abhorred nothing so much as the sense of having injured or imposed upon another—see all her naked grief and know he was the cause.
His face was contorted with guilt and remorse, and she wasn’t sorry for it. All she’d wanted in that moment was to hurt him as much as he was hurting her.
And she’d rather thought she was succeeding. He’d looked like she felt: as if his heart were cleaving in two. He’d even looked, for just a moment, as though he might change his mind.
But then an ear-splitting wail had commanded his attention. He’d glanced over his shoulder. Behind him was the chaise, and in the chaise was his mother: bent over, hands hiding her face, sobs racking her body.
He’d made his choice. He’d gone to her.
And Claire was left standing in the snow, an icy wind stinging her wet cheeks.
Now, when she spoke again, that iciness infused her voice. “Why are you here?”
He looked taken aback at the sudden change in her countenance—and perplexed as to how he should respond.
No matter; Claire hadn’t finished yet. “You said you would never force your way in against my wishes. You said you held out no hope of winning me over. Yet here you are at my home…against my wishes…trying to win me over.” She climbed to her feet. “Why did you come?”
He was silent a moment, appearing to consider the question. “I always did hope—without any right to hope—that I might hear some hint of your softening toward me. That’s why I kept Noah abreast of my travels.”
“Noah?” Astonishment made Claire seize the table for balance. “He knew where you were? All year?”
“Of course.” Jonathan frowned. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“Why should he tell me?” She could hear her voice rising, tinged with hysteria. “I’m sure he couldn’t be bothered. He’s never given a moment’s thought to anyone but himself, after all!”
Jonathan looked as if he would defend his friend, but then thought better of it. “I’m so sorry, Claire,” he said instead, his eyes piercing her with their sincerity. “I thought you knew where I was—or at the very least, could obtain the knowledge should you want it. I didn’t mean to fall off the face of the earth, if that’s how it felt to you.”
“Of course not!” Her voice rose even higher. “What in the perfectly ordinary circumstance of your vanishing for an entire year, with nary a word of your whereabouts to anybody save my stupid brother, could have possibly made me feel that way?”
She detected a flicker of frustration. “I was only trying to respect your wishes. You said you never wanted to see or hear from me again. I did what you asked.”
“No, you didn’t!” she burst out. “I asked you to choose me!”
