Florence sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with air as she stood on top of the hill that marked the northern limit of her parents’ land, on a boulder that might once have been part of the ancient Roman wall, gazing out over mile upon mile of verdant farmland and forest, towards the lowlands of Scotland. This was exactly what she’d needed. This hill, this view, this sense of isolation and peace, even this boulder; these were the things she’d missed so terribly during those first miserable weeks of her marriage. Coming back had been good for her, a balm for her soul as well as her bruised heart, although, ironically, now she was here she found herself missing the rolling pastures and jagged coastline of Dorset instead, as if she was torn between two places at once.
She also wished that she’d worn more than a woollen spencer over her dress because the wind was a great deal stronger than she’d anticipated, with a biting edge that meant she probably ought to leave soon or she’d catch a chill. Autumn was definitely in the air. In a few short weeks, the green landscape would have faded entirely to muted brown, but for just a little while longer she wanted to stand here and breathe it all in.
She twisted around, looking south this time. From this vantage point she could see a scattering of villages, as well as the Wadlows’ large manor house and her parents’ farm. There was a rider coming from that direction, she noticed. Thomasprobably, her second oldest brother, going to visit Miss Ogden, the vivacious daughter of the local doctor, just as he’d done twice already that week. Something told her there was going to be another wedding in the family before the year was out.
She heaved a bittersweet sigh at the thought. As happy as she was for them, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous too. It must be nice to be courted, to enjoy the first flush of uncomplicated, innocent romance. Nothing about her relationship with Leo had been uncomplicated, and as for innocent…but there was no point looking back any more. That was the conclusion she’d come to after a month of soul-searching. She’d spent enough time being angry and dwelling on the past. Now she simply had to decide on her future, whether to forgive or simply give up.
Now, at last, she thought she knew the answer.
As if in reply to her decision, a particularly strong gust of wind buffeted her so hard, she almost tumbled backwards off the boulder. Meanwhile, her bonnet made a bid for freedom, tearing loose of its ribbons and blowing off down the hill.
She took the hint and ran back towards the farmhouse after it. Her parents’ cook had been baking when she’d left, meaning there would probably be something hot and delicious waiting in the kitchen. Maybe she would take a tea tray up to the parlour, where her mother and Hannah, her sister-in-law, were no doubt still busily sewing baby clothes, just as they had been when she’d left. Maybe she’d stay and make a pair of booties herself.
Life with her family was back to the way it always had been, although there had been some uncomfortable moments when she’d first arrived, stepping down from her carriage to find them all standing in an awkward-looking receiving line. They’d greeted her with trepidation, avoiding eye contact and making stiff half-bows and curtseys, as if they hadn’t known how to behave, but after a couple of days her brothers had started totease her again, and by the end of the first week any shows of deference had been abandoned. Now everyone accepted that she was still their sister and daughter as well as a marchioness, and she felt completely at home again. She’d also shared the story of her marriage with her parents and, to her immense relief, they hadn’t told her it was her duty to go back to her husband, or asked her how long she intended to stay. They’d simply given her her old room back and let her work out the answers herself.
She hooked her skirts over one arm, picking up speed as she charged down the hill, sending a flock of sheep scattering around her. Bother! Her bonnet was caught in the rushes of a small stream, now far too soggy to wear, though thankfully it was only a ten-minute walk back to the farmhouse. She scooped it up, dangling the ribbons from her fingers as she started along the track that ran through the middle of the valley, surprised to see the horse and rider coming towards her. That was odd, since the village was in the opposite direction. Did Thomas want her to accompany him? Although, looking closer, she didn’t recognise the horse. And it didn’t look like Thomas or any of her other brothers either. It looked like…
‘Leo?’ She stopped in the centre of the track, opening and closing her eyes a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. When she’d left Rainton, she’d wondered how she would feel when she saw him again and now she knew. Her heart was leaping so high, it was halfway up her throat. Unfortunately, she was also conscious of being dressed in one of her oldest gowns, with mud around the hem and her hair loose and knotted from the wind. As usual, she looked nothing like a marchioness, although, at this precise moment, he didn’t particularly look like a marquess either. Quite the opposite: he looked positively dishevelled, his greatcoat creased and travel-stained, his boots caked in dirt and his face dusty. If she hadn’tspent so much time thinking about him over the past month, she might not even have recognised him.
‘Florence…’ He dismounted before his horse had even come to a halt and strode towards her, dark eyes blazing.
‘What are you doing here?’ She felt a pang of alarm. ‘Have you come to take me back?’
‘No.’ He stopped abruptly, a hurt expression crossing over his face. ‘Not unless you want to come.’
‘Oh… Sorry.’ She gave him an apologetic look. ‘You just looked so purposeful.’ She peered closer. ‘And exhausted. Are you all right?’
‘I’ve been riding for five days.’
‘You came all this way on horseback?’ She gasped. ‘Alone?’
‘I brought one of the grooms with me, but I left him at the local inn.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry I came without sending a message ahead, but once I made up my mind, I wanted to get here as soon as possible. Your parents said you were out walking.’
She tensed. ‘You’ve met my parents?’
‘I have. They were very courteous.’ He removed his hat, so that his dark hair tumbled forward over his forehead. It was longer than before, she noticed, and in desperate need of a comb. ‘I also met four of your brothers, at least three of whom I think wanted to attack me.’ He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, as if he thought they might be in pursuit. ‘You were right, they are very large.’
She put a hand to her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’
‘Thank you.’ He dipped his head and then reached into his greatcoat, pulling out two pieces of torn paper and holding them out to her. ‘This is the reason I came. You said you needed proof that I’ve changed.’
She held on to his gaze for a moment before looking down and inhaling sharply. ‘Your father’s letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘You tore it up?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t…’ She swallowed. ‘You didn’t have to do this.’
‘Yes, I did. And this.’ He took the paper back and tore it again, into fragments this time, then turned and strode away up the hill.
‘Where are you going?’ Florence shouted after him, too stunned to move.
‘To let it go!’ he shouted back, reaching the top and throwing the pieces high into the air. As she watched, the wind caught them, tossing and whipping them around in a spiralling motion for a few seconds as if it were playing with them before blowing them up and away over the fields.
‘I can’t believe you just did that.’ She gaped incredulously as he came back down.
