‘She plays the pianoforte with remarkable accomplishment, you know. Lovely to hear music at Marshgrave once more,’ offered Reeves.
Rawden frowned. She had not owned to any skill when he had asked her.
‘I often find her curled up on the chaise in the library with her head in a dusty book? God knows why. I often wonder where she goes in her head.’
‘Away from Marshgrave and her cruel husband,’thought Rawden.
‘You should be here,’ said Reeves.
‘I had business, as you well know.’
‘And is that business settled?’
‘Yes. I paid her off. She will not trouble me again.’ Reeves’ eyes met his. ‘It was a bad business, Reeves, and not well done on my part.’
‘These things never are. But here, you have a marriage and a wife. This is not some sordid entanglement with a woman who knows what she will get out of it. This is permanent.’
Rawden shook his head. ‘It is an illusion. This life was to have been William’s. I stand in a dead man’s shoes. I lie with a dead man’s sweetheart and demand she loves and obeys me. All that I have, I have stolen from another. How can I ever forgive myself for that?’
‘He is gone. You have to let him go.’
‘I cannot forget William.’
‘I am not talking about William,’ snarled Reeves. ‘I am talking about your father, the man who put his poison into your soul, and made you feel unworthy all your life. You must cut out his influence and open your heart to happiness. You are the lucky one.’
‘How so? How am I lucky, Reeves?’
‘You did not earn a French musket ball at Waterloo as did so many poor souls who fell beside you. Get on and live your life, for William’s sake and hers, if not yours. We’ll all be mouldering in our graves soon enough, so there’s no time to waste in looking backwards.’
‘What a miserable old soul you are, Reeves.’
‘Then we are two peas in a pod, Earl Voss,’ said Reeves.
‘Save for one thing. Women find me charming, whereas you seem to repel them with your glowering countenance,’ said Rawden, softening his words with a smile.
‘Do I now?’
‘Has that not always been the case?’
Reeves stood up stiffly. ‘It was not always the case. In my prime, when I was hopeful and foolhardy, I knew the meaning of true love.’
‘You astonish me.’
‘There’s many things about me you don’t know, and it is best we leave it that way.’
Rawden clapped the old man on the back. ‘I agree. Now, I suppose I must follow your advice, seek out my bride, and try to be a better husband.’
‘Aye, and you know I don’t need to talk you into it, either. Be off with you.’
‘You really are the most insolent servant a man ever had, Reeves.’
‘Thank you, Master.’
Rawden walked briskly back towards Marshgrave and soon spied Grace, cutting a forlorn figure standing at the water’s edge and staring off into the horizon, the wind flattening her skirt to her slender legs. The thought of them wrapped around his back made Rawden pick up his pace.
The crunch of his boot on the shingle had her whirling around. Grace looked unutterably fair - her cheeks rosy from the bite of the wind, her nose too, and the sunset turning her hair to fire and setting a light in those wide, pretty eyes. Her mouth fell open in surprise, but she did not smile at him.
‘I am back,’ he declared pointlessly, a little tongue-tied at her beauty and cool demeanour.
