She raised her eyebrows. “You sound like an officer about to issue orders to your men. What are they, sir?”
“When we arrive there,” he said, “you are going to have to revert to being the widowed Mrs. McKay, and I am going to have to be Major Sir Benedict Harper, friend of the late Captain Matthew McKay, escorting you as a result of that deathbed promise I made him. But you must have a maid, you know, to add some semblance of propriety to our having traveled so far together.”
Her eyebrows stayed elevated while he frowned in thought. “She accompanied you as far as Tenby,” he said, “but flatly refused to go one step farther from England or even to stay there. You will have been forced to send her on her way back to England by stage the very day we call upon your solicitor. You will need an instant replacement, of course, even before you move into your cottage. And you are going to need one or two other servants, I daresay—a housekeeper, a cook, or perhaps someone who can serve in both capacities, especially if the cottage is small. Perhaps a handyman. A companion.”
“You do not need to concern yourself with those details,Major Harper,” she said, her back to the window now as she gazed steadily at him. “I shall manage. And I daresay Mr. Rhys will be willing to advise me.”
He smiled apologetically. “I will worry.”
“Why?” she asked him. “Because I am a woman?”
“Because everything here will be new and strange to you,” he said. “Because you will be alone.”
“And because I am a woman.”
He did not contradict her. But it was not just that. It was something hedid, organizing people and events, managing them. Or, rather, it was something hehad donewhen he was an officer. It was something he enjoyed, something he missed, though he might, of course, have taken over the running of his own estate three years ago or any time since then.
“This feels like goodbye,” she said softly.
“I believe you will be happy in this part of the world,” he said. “You already seem to have a certain sense of belonging.”
“I do.” Yet there seemed to be a sadness in her eyes.
This feels like goodbye.
Yes, she would settle here, provided the cottage was habitable. She would surely have some neighbors and would make friends, and after a decent time she would meet a worthy Welshman and marry and have children. She would be happy. And she would be free forever of the pernicious influence of Heathmoor and the rest of her in-laws.
And he would never know about any of it.
It would not matter, though. He would soon forget about her, as she would forget about him.
It just seemed at this moment that he never could.
14
They reached Tenby early one afternoon on a cool, blustery day with white clouds scudding across a blue sky. It was a pretty, hilly town built above high cliffs, with views of the sea from a number of the front streets. They took rooms at a hotel at the top of the town and proceeded downhill to the chambers of Rhys and Llywellyn, their coachman having inquired about the direction while they were securing their rooms.
Mr. Llywellyn was not in, they were told, but Mr. Rhys would be pleased to see them if they cared to wait for a few minutes until he was free.
Samantha felt as fearful as if she had just stepped into the rooms of a tooth drawer. Much—perhaps the whole of the rest of her life—depended upon what happened in the next little while. If the cottage was not a viable home, then she did not know what she would do. If it was, then Ben would very soon be leaving.
She had tried not to think of that, and so of course she had been able to think of little else. She would miss him. Well,of courseshe would. But that simple realization did not begin to account for the deep pit of emptiness she sensed would be awaiting her when she watched his carriage drive away without her—forever.
She doubted she would see him again.
It was a gloomy thought to add to the dreariness of the fact that she was wearing her blacks again after swearing she never would. She wasnotwearing the veil over her face, however.
Mr. Rhys, a short, neatly dressed, white-haired man, who looked as if he surely ought to have retired years ago, came out of his room no longer than three minutes after they had sat down, his face wreathed in smiles. He extended his right hand to Samantha.
“Mrs. McKay?” he said. “Well, thisisa welcome surprise. And Major Sir Benedict Harper? How do you do, sir?”
He shook them both heartily by the hand and ushered them into his office after instructing his clerk to bring in a pot of tea. He directed them to two chairs and took his place behind a large desk in a chair slightly higher than theirs, Samantha noticed with some amusement.
“I cannot say you resemble Miss Bevan, your great-aunt, Mrs. McKay,” he said to Samantha. “I believe, however, that you do have a bit of the look of Miss Gwynneth Bevan, her niece, your mother. She was just a girl when I saw her last, but she showed promise of being a great beauty. I am delighted you have come in person. Miss Bevan’s cottage, now yours, of course, has been unoccupied for a number of years, and I have been wondering lately if you had any new instructions for me. It is a year since I last heard from the Reverend Saul, your brother, who wrote as usual on your behalf. I would have been writing again soon, but this is so much better.”
Samantha frowned. John had been conducting business with Mr. Rhyson her behalf? He had certainly not sent on any letter but that one not long after their father’s death. Had he taken her silence on that occasion as permission to run her affairs for her?
“Is the cottage habitable, Mr. Rhys?” She felt as if she had been holding her breath ever since she arrived here.
