It is time, my sister. Time for you to move on with your life, to let me go—and in the going, know that you have my blessing.
Bending, Amelia laid a bouquet of white roses—save one—on Colin’s grave…right next to the yellow yarrow no doubt laid by Mrs. O. A small smile trembled on her lips. By God’s great mercy, his body rested here instead of lodging forever beneath dark waters. His big frame had caught on a rock where the Avon opened into an estuary before spilling out to sea. Mr. Peckwood, however, had not been found, nor likely ever would be. A soul lost in darkness, if ever there was one.
She pressed her hand to the soil, breathing in the raw earthiness. “You are—and ever will be—greatly loved, my brother.”
Rising, she trapped a sob behind tight lips, then sidestepped to the next grave. Grass already grew here. The stone was already carved with Grafton Balfour’s name. She balanced the last rose atop the black granite and retreated a step.
“Though I cannot truthfully say I greatly loved you, Father, I freely confess that I forgive you.” She bowed her head. “And may God grant me forgiveness, as well, for all the years I spent running from you instead of towards you. Who knows what might have changed between us if I had.”
“Amelia.”
At the sound of her name, she turned.
Graham strode across the small graveyard. Sunlight draped a righteous mantle over his shoulders like some sort of avenging angel garbed for glory. As he drew close, the scent of his sagey soap blended with the fresh August morn. His hair was still damp, with a delightful bit of curl near his earlobes. He needed a trim, and yet somehow, to do so seemed wrong. The devil-may-care length suited him, and despite the unconventionality of the style, it pleased her. She smiled. Oh how far she’d fallen from clinging to perfection.
The green flecks in his eyes were brilliant today. Flashing like gems. Highlighting the browns to a glowing amber, especially as he smiled down at her. “Betsey said I might find you here.”
“And so you have.”
The longer he silently stared at her, the faster her pulse raced. Highly inappropriate here in this place of solemn rest, yet she could no more control its pace than she could the late summer breeze. Graham had called on her every day since Colin’s death, asking after her welfare, sharing what he’d read in his mother’s Bible. Always, he caused the same heart-fluttering effect whenever he stood so close.
“I cannot say I am surprised to find you here, for I know you sorely miss your brother.” He shifted his gaze to Colin’s grave. “I miss him as well. He was a good man.”
“As are you, Doctor.”
“I hope your opinion remains the same after you hear me out.”
She frowned, the jarring call of a nearby curlew as offsetting as his words. “Sounds a bit ominous.”
“I hope not.” A small chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he loosened his cravat quite savagely, almost as if he couldn’t breathe. What could possibly have the usually cool-and-calm doctor in such a state?
“This isn’t a very fitting place for me to say what I must.” He dropped his hand and drummed his fingers against his trousers. “But then again, perhaps it is.”
“How cryptic of you. May I?” She pointed at his cravat, where the tail of the fabric had broken free from the confines of his waistcoat and dangled wild.
He glanced down at the offense, then with a sharp nod, lifted his chin so she could straighten it out.
“I am making quite the muddle of this,” he murmured. Red rose up his neck, lodging in his ears.
She hid a smile. “Graham, we are friends. Anything you have to say will do nothing to change that.” With a final pat to the cloth, she retreated a step. “There. All is right now.”
“I sincerely hope so.” He stared at the sky for a moment, then after a deep inhale, he faced her. “I have come to tell you I am leaving, Amelia. That I will no longer call on you daily. There is no future for me in Bristol as a surgeon, not with my name tainted by my association with Peckwood.”
It was true. Mr. Peckwood’s deeds, the patients he’d maimed at the asylum and the swirling rumours of corpses he’d illegally purchased, had all been aired quite thoroughly in the papers. Not to mention the public knowledge that he’d been responsible for Colin’s madness. It would be impossible for Graham to distance himself from such a disgrace without leaving the city. Still…
She gripped handfuls of her skirt. Was she to lose another loved one so soon? For she did love this man. Almost painfully so. A fresh tide of tears welled, but she swallowed them. Deep. And continued swallowing until all the emotion balled up into a hard stone in her belly.
Graham had been the only reason she’d stayed at Balfour House this long. But now? Well, without him, maybe it was time for her to take Nemo and Betsey to London. Try to pick up the pieces of what had been her life. Mrs. Kirwin was recovered enough to manage an empty town house. Completely empty. Just like Amelia’s heart.
“Where will you go?” The question slipped out forlorn, like the pleading of a little girl.
“Well, being I have a tidy sum, what with recouping in full the partnership money I’d given to Peckwood and with the inheritance I received from my mother…” A strange light gleamed in his eyes. Not amber. Not green. Something entirely mysterious. “I was thinking I might like to see Cairo before I settle in one place and open a practice of my own.”
She sucked in a breath.Cairo?The word was a splinter, sharp and jagged, one she took great care not to touch. Of all the places in all the world, he had to name the one city that could cut so deep?
In a single step, he closed the distance between them and collected both her hands in his, giving her a little squeeze of…what? Encouragement? Strength? Comfort lest she collapse?
His gaze bored into hers. “I thought my bride would enjoy such a trip.”
