‘You don’t need to apologise again. What you did was…hurtful, and I can’t pretend that I’m not upset, but I also appreciate the fact that you came straight back from Ireland when you heard about my accident.’
‘I still wish—’
‘So do I.’ She turned around, cutting the words off. ‘And I hope that some day we can put it behind us and be the way we used to be, but not yet.’
‘I understand.’ Amabel bowed her head.
‘I wanted to give you these too.’ Florence reached into her cloak and pulled out the bundle of letters she’d found in her saddlebag.
‘Oh!’ Amabel seized hold of them gratefully. ‘Thank you. I know it probably seems ridiculous, but they mean so much to me.’
‘How did you ever receive them?’
‘One of the maids at Grosvenor Square was susceptible to bribery.’ Amabel lifted a shoulder. ‘She’s the one who let me in to see you after the ball.’
‘I see.’ Florence managed a small smile. ‘And they’re not ridiculous. I read a few of them when I didn’t know who they were from and they show how much you and Major Vaughan love each other. I suppose that’s why I can understand what you did… You wanted to be with the man you loved.’
‘Yes.’ Amabel blinked a few times, as if she was trying not to cry again. ‘What about you and the marquess? Is your marriage so terrible? Is he as bad as he seemed?’
‘No.’ She shook her head quickly. ‘He’s not bad at all. We actually came to care for each other, but I need to think and I can’t do it here.’
‘And he’s just letting you go?’ Amabel sounded surprised.
‘Yes.’
‘Then he really isn’t the man I thought he was. He told my father he wanted an heir as soon as possible. I think if he could, he would have added it to the marriage contract: an heir nine months after the wedding night.’
‘That sounds about right.’ Florence’s lips twisted. ‘It’s on his list of instructions.’
‘His what?’
‘Nothing.’ She took a deep breath and then held a hand out. ‘In any case, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye and good luck.’
‘Thank you.’ Amabel clutched at her fingers. ‘Florence…please say you don’t hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you.’ She pursed her brow, as it occurred to her that maybe Amabel was just as much a victim of her parents as Leo was of his father. They’d both been raised with such high expectations, maybe it wasn’t their fault they’d both behaved badly because of it. ‘Now I’d better go.’ She turned for the door. ‘Just be happy with your major, Amabel. Then, whatever else happens, all of this will have been worthwhile.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three weeks, five days, six hours and…Leo glanced at the clock on the mantel…twelve minutes.
He dropped his pen onto his desk and rubbed a hand over his face. Apparently there was no point even trying to do his accounts today, since he’d been staring at the same page for approximately forty minutes now. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d bothered. He’d done the same thing yesterday, and the day before. Thank goodness his enthusiastic new steward, Macauley, had settled in so well or the estate would be in a complete mess by now.
Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and walked across to the window. The day was grey and overcast, just as it had been for the past three weeks. Or had it? He frowned. Maybe it had only seemed that way.
Things actually hadn’t been so bad to begin with. In an attempt to distract himself from missing Florence, he’d launched into several new projects, but gradually his spirits had sunk so low it was an effort to get out of bed every morning. His carriage had returned, with confirmation that she’d reached her parents’ house safely, but there had been no word, no letter, no sign that she was ever coming back.
He’d written her letters, thirteen in total, all of which he’d deposited in the fireplace, since they were either dry reports about cattle behaviour or passionate pleas for forgiveness,neither of which were quite what he wished to convey. Surely there had to be some romantic middle ground between cows and begging? If he could only find the words, therightwords…maybe he could truly convince her he’d changed?
He looked around at the sound of a commotion in the hall. He could hear the sound of voices, along with doors opening and closing, and running footsteps. His heart lifted, right up until his study door opened and two boys came charging into the room, closely followed by his sister, carrying a toddler in her arms.
‘Patrick! Anthony!’ Cassie’s face was flushed. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, I know you’ve been cooped up in a carriage for three days, but stop running around like you’re in the park. Put. That. Figurine. Down!’
‘Cassie.’ Leo lifted his brows. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘I should imagine that’s an understatement.’ George was the last to appear. ‘We’ve come to visit, by the way. I apologise in advance.’
‘Nonsense.’ Cassie approached his desk. ‘Leo’s invited us plenty of times.’
