“As to the wedded bliss part, I could likely support a wife, but not in any grand style. Family coffers aren’t especially deep. I’ve some in trust but would rather earn my keep if I can.” He looked down, toeing the soil around a clump of irises. “Plus, there’s the matter of never having met anyone I’d want to marry. Even if I did, I could hardly drag some poor girl out of her London townhouse to traipse around after me out here. Life in the desert isn’t for everyone.”
Onora stared out across the water, watching as a nightbird raised its wings and flew off to the opposite bank. “It shall be for me.”
Several beats of silence followed, before he spoke again. “Endure a full archaeological season before you make up your mind. It might be different now you’re, well…ah…you’re no longer a child.” Mr. Balfour pushed one hand roughly through his hair. “I ought to be getting back. It’s late. You, too. Ought to…ah…be in bed.Yourbed.”
“I wish you weren’t leaving!” There it was, tumbling out. “I don’t mean right now; naturally, you need your sleep.” She swallowed. “I do feel safer, knowing you’re close by. The other night when you came to help us, what were you doing really, in the library? Were you…?” She was too self-conscious to spell it out, but he saved her the trouble.
“There with the intention of looking out for you? Perhaps. That snake was unfortunate, but I doubt you’ll be troubled again.”
She wasn’t so sure herself but held her tongue. Part of her was pleased he’d been secretly watching over her; the other was worried as to why he felt it necessary.
“You ought to know how to use a gun,” he said suddenly. “I’ll show you if you like. Never know when it’ll prove useful.”
“I don’t think Seton would approve.”She knew for sure he wouldn’t.
“Do you love him?” Mr. Balfour moved to face her.
She was taken aback—by how close he was standing, and by the question.
“You’re too good for him, you know.”
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say.” She laughed nervously.
His eyes flashed…with displeasure or exasperation, she wasn’t sure. Then, his expression closed. “I won’t keep on at you about it. You’re capable of making up your own mind.”
“Mr. Balfour! Jack!” Onora grabbed his arm, imploring him to look at her, to see something of what she was feeling.
She couldn’t say the words: that she wished they’d met long ago. Six months ago, even, before she was so far down this road with Seton that she couldn’t see a way back.
It would be so easy to love you.
If only he would put his arms around her, making her feel safe and chosen.
Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure whySeton wanted her. He did cast certain looks at her now and then, which made her believe that he desired her, but he was just as often critical of how she presented herself. And yet Seton had pursued her, of all the women he might have taken. Her father had been delighted with the proposal, had trusted Lord Seton with Onora’s future happiness.
Her father: what would he say if he could see her now?
Abruptly, she released Mr. Balfour’s arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t be here, talking to you like this.”
Alone with you.
Wanting you to hold me.
Wanting you to want me.
Carrying on would bring humiliation, or some action on her part so awkward he’d never be able to think of her without embarrassment.
He’s going to leave, and this will be nothing but a distant memory. He’ll forgetyou, and that’s as it should be.
You should forget him too.
Except that she knew she wouldn’t. She’d never forget Jack Balfour.
She refused to look back as he called after her.
CHAPTER 13
It was over breakfast the next morning that the telegram arrived, brought to the table by one of Seton’s manservants.
