You’re being ridiculous, she told herself as she rode across the coastal path a little faster than was sensible for the terrain. The wind whipped her cloak’s hood back, the salt in the air stinging her eyes, but she breathed it in, relishing the freedom.
"He’s a friend, nothing more. Nothing they said changes anything."
She wished her sister were there. While her pretty younger sibling often stole the limelight, she was also Constance’s best friend, and always had comforting words and a dose of confidence to give in difficult times.
And yet Constance wasn’t sure she could admit to anyone that she had been foolish enough to think the Earl might be attracted to her; that she had even wondered whether marriage between them was a real possibility. She could think herself a fool, but she did not wish others to do so.
She had visited the ruins of the castle before, but that didn’t make them any less spectacular.
With the backdrop of the sea behind them, and the sun beating down upon her, the sight was breathtaking.
She wandered the perimeter, running her fingertips across the ancient stones, imagining the people who had once lived there, the life they would have led. It was such a shame that it had fallen into ruin rather than being preserved like other local castles, and yet still she appreciated its beauty.
She sat for a while, admiring the view that the inhabitants would once have had when the castle was standing. As with all of Northumberland’s castles, it was built to keep watch over the border, and from here you could see for miles across land and sea.
She found herself turning in the direction she thought Gracewood lay, searching for it on the horizon. What was Ezra doing? Would she see him again? Or would he think her rude for having left the ball without saying a word?
She had been upset by what the women had said – she was still upset, if truth be told – but she had accepted the truth she had always known. And she didn’t see that it meant she and Ezra could not be friends.
She just wanted to see him.
As if she had conjured him, she turned to find him walking along the coastal path in just his shirt and breeches, the sleeves billowing a little in the breeze.
What was he doing here? Was he looking for her? But how could he have known…?
She was afraid he would walk right past the castle, for he seemed intent on his path, and yet she was not brave enough to call out to him. She watched him stride along, mesmerised by his strong, lean figure as he made quick work of the path, looking determined. Where was he going? This was a long way from his castle, and it was such a warm day.
And then, when she thought he would disappear over the hill and never know she was there, he suddenly turned his head sharply, and their eyes met.
She gasped at the force of the feeling that shot through her. And then he smiled broadly and immediately walked towards her, his clean-shaven face full of joy.
She was smiling too – she could feel it, and she could not control it. There was something about him that simply cheered her soul.
"What a surprise to see you here!" he called out when he was close enough to be heard.
"Well, you know how I love castles," she said with a smile.
"Of course – although this one, as fine as it is, I do not think is quite up to Gracewood’s standards. Could do with a roof, you know?"
She giggled in spite of herself.
"I looked for you at the Assembly Rooms."
Constance bit her lip. She had told herself she wasn’t being rude, that he wouldn’t notice she was gone. Clearly, she had been wrong in that.
"We went home earlier than planned," she began, feeling a wave of sadness that they had not had that second dance she had been so looking forward to, and at the same time reminding herself that he was only being polite. She did not want to let her heart run away with her again. "I felt a little under the weather."
Ezra frowned. "I am sorry to hear that. I trust you are fully recovered now?"
"I’m much better, thank you," Constance said, finding it harder to lie about her fake illness to him than she had done to her grandmother, although she didn’t really know why. And it wasn’t really a lie. She had felt unwell – sick to the stomach by the words of the women who did not know she was listening.
"Did you enjoy the ball?" she asked, feeling like she ought to move the conversation forwards.
"I did…and I saw an old friend in the card room, so that was pleasant. I confess, I left not long after I realised you had gone. I’m not sure any of the other ladies would be as forgiving about my atrophied dancing skills as you."
He laughed, and she felt herself blushing in spite of herself. He shouldn’t be able to make the blood rise to her cheeks so easily, and yet he could. Fairly effortlessly, she was sure.
"Your dancing has very much improved since that first time," she said, then wondered if that was rude, acknowledging that his dancing had not been up to snuff when they had first danced. "I mean to say—"
