He blew out a breath. “It will make things more difficult. Father’s not wrong about that. And like I already said, when I look at the Amoses, I’m not sure good things are headed their way. But... well, let’s just say I’ve met Jameson before. I don’t think you’d be happy with him, and I don’t think you would have been happy with Richard either. So as much as I want you to return to Washington, DC, and marry someone who will make my life easier, I can’t resent you for wanting happiness, not when I want the same thing myself.”
He nodded toward the journal in her arms. “And I hope Amos can get the journal published for you. It’s the least you deserve after Richard took all the credit for the others.”
Her throat was suddenly too thick to speak. But she didn’t need to, because Heath moved close and caught her in a hug.
It felt stiff and awkward, not nearly as warm or comforting as hugging any of the Amoses. But at least her brother was trying.
“Write to me at the Department of the Interior.” He released her and took a step back. “I’d like to stay in contact, and Father won’t see the letters there.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing this might well be the last time she’d ever speak to her brother in person.
Then she made her way down the stairs, staving off tears for a few seconds more as she turned her back on the only life she’d ever known.
* * *
Mikhail bathedas soon as he got back to the house. His family might not have said anything about how badly he stank, but he had no intentions of proposing to a woman while he smelled of mud and mold and an unvented outhouse.
But he was impatient enough to see Bryony that he didn’t take time to warm the water, which meant it was a rather quick bath in frigid water that was barely warmer than the ocean.
The trouble was, as soon as he was dressed and ready to face the woman he loved, she was nowhere to be found. Not in the parlor. Not in her room. Not in Alexei’s study. And apparently not in the kitchen either.
“She left,” Inessa told him as she pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven. “She was here only for a minute or two after court, and then she rushed out.”
“Where did she go?” He stalked from one side of the kitchen to the other, then turned and paced back the other direction.
His sister shrugged. “She didn’t say, and it didn’t seem like my place to ask.
“Well, you should have.”
She rolled her eyes. “Heaven save me from ever acting like a fool if I fall in love.”
“I’m not acting like a fool.”
“No? Then why are you prancing around the kitchen upset that I didn’t interrogate our guest before she went for a walk?”
“Because I need to know where to find her.” He threw his hands into the air.
“I would try the Caldwells.”
He came to a halt. “Why would she go there?” He’d assumed she’d gone to one of the beaches surrounding the town to think, and he’d been hoping Inessa could at least point him in a general direction.
“Because she spent all weekend writing and rewriting a letter for her father, and she had one with her when she left. I’m assuming it was the same letter. That, and she looked worried.”
“And you couldn’t have told me that five minutes ago?” He strode toward the back door.
“You weren’t in the kitchen five minutes ago,” she tossed over her shoulder.
He slammed the door behind him with a growl and rushed up the street, never mind he’d forgotten to grab a coat. He didn’t feel the wind as it lashed through town or even the sprinkle of rain on top of his head. The only thing he felt was his heart about to beat through his chest.
Why hadn’t Bryony waited for him if she wanted to give her father a letter? Surely she knew that he’d gladly have escorted her.
Not that the Caldwells’ butler would have let him into the house, but he still could have waited on the porch while...
Oof!He stopped in his tracks, the wind rushing out of his lungs as he looked down at the person who’d just rounded a corner and plowed into him.
“I’m sorry, I?—”
“Bryony?”
