The pale northern sky was clear, and the wind had dropped to near zero. The sea was calm and the ebbing tide should render the causeway passable within two hours or so. Bob and Jamie would be back soon; she refused to consider the alternative. The chores and a leisurely breakfast kept her tolerably composed until finally, blessedly, the men returned with the doctor.
Alex was still sleeping soundly. The doctor took a poke or two at his side but saw no reason to wake him when he was so obviously recovering. The nursing staff withdrew to the kitchen, where Christa announced her intention of returning to the Orchard to allay Annabelle’s fears. Willson would escort her back and return with a carriage that could bring his lordship home when he had recovered sufficiently to travel.
They left quickly, before the tide could start to cover the causeway again. The weather was bitter cold but clear, and the scouring winds had blown enough snow from the roads so that travel was possible.
The long ride home gave Christa ample opportunity to firm her resolve. She must leave the Kingsley household before Alex returned. Her clarity of mind would not survive another offer of marriage for she was sure that Alex’s sense of duty was much stronger than her good sense. But if she accepted him, she was sure they would both end up regretting it.
Christa sighed, her breath making a white cloud in front of her as the horse between her legs lifted its head at the nearness of its stable. Logic was the very devil, she decided; without it, she might have married Alex in the hope that he would grow to love her. But she remembered the haut monde too well to believe in such a miracle happening. The contempt of his own class, the loss of his career, and the suffering of his sister and brother would weigh too heavily. She would cherish her memories of him and move on with her life.
* * *
At the Orchard, Annabelle was overwhelmed with relief at the news of Alex’s recovery and was barely restrained from returning in the carriage with Willson. Sybil was also pleased. If her viscount was going to kill himself rescuing servants, better he did it after she was safely Lady Kingsley.
Christa found a letter waiting from her cousin Suzanne de Savery, announcing that she and her Henry had decided not to wait till summer to marry. The letter gave her an idea, and in the evening, she told Annabelle that there was a family emergency—she was vague about what kind—and she must depart immediately.
Annabelle was shocked and unhappy. “I knew that you would be leaving, but I had not thought it would be so soon.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Annabelle. One of my cousins needs me and I must go as soon as possible.” Christa’s voice was firm, because family was an inarguable reason for a change of plans.
Annabelle sighed. “Everyone is throwing problems at you. I hope your cousin’s situation improves soon. Though I know you will not come back to me.”
“No, Miss Annabelle. I am sorry.”
Annabelle had been lying on a sofa in her room. She stood now and went to her dressing table and fumbled in her drawer. Turning, she offered Christa a handful of gold coins.
Christa gasped. “Twenty pounds! I can’t accept this.”
Annabelle was brisk. “Of course, you can. You have served me and my family far beyond the limits of duty. I’m only sorry that I have no more money here.” She stepped forward then to give her maid a good-bye hug. With a catch in her voice she said, “I’ll miss you.”
Christa felt a lump in her own throat. “I shall miss you, too. All of you.” With a slightly crooked smile she said, “I will write down the recipe for the pale rouge before I go.” She thought a moment, then said, “The chambermaid, Maggie, in London. I think she would make you a good abigail.”
“I’ll write and ask if she would like the position. If so, perhaps she can come down by coach. It will give us time to become accustomed to each other before the Season begins.”
Annabelle was proud of how matter-of-fact she sounded. She was fighting down a sense of betrayal that Christa was leaving, even though she knew it was selfish. Christa had her own life to live and picking up the pieces after various Kingsley dilemmas must have been tedious.
Christa gave one last elfin smile. “You will do very well, Annabelle.” Then she slipped away.
Christa went to the library to write down the directions for making the cosmetic. It gave her a good excuse to be busy with pen and paper, and she knew she must leave a note for Alex. It took a long time to write, and she carefully burned the false starts. She had no desire that anyone in the household guess what had happened.
She sealed the note, scratching the initial C in the wax, then left it in Alex’s desk, where he would find it quickly after his return. A small pale object on the desk caught her eye. When Christa discovered that it was the sea-polished pebble she had given him the first night he had kissed her, she nearly wept. Love was a watery emotion, she decided with disgust.
* * *
Alex awoke with a delightful sense of well-being. It was late afternoon, and he could see Fiske moving around in the kitchen. The valet brought in food when he saw his master stirring. “How are you feeling, my lord?”
“Wonderful. Where is Christa?”
If the valet was surprised at the question, he didn’t show it. “She and Willson went back to the estate. Miss Annabelle had been poorly, and Christa didn’t want to leave her alone too long, and everyone there has been worrying about you.”
Alex sighed regretfully. It would be days now until he saw her again. But there was no help for it, so he tucked into his soup, pleased to see that he had been promoted to broth with barley, onions, and beef in it.
The doctor had recommended Lord Kingsley not be moved for at least a week, and in deference to his judgment, Alex waited four whole days before heading home. He was still infuriatingly weak, and there was pain in his side, but he could walk on his own if he was judicious about it. He was amazed when he remembered the passionate interlude with Christa; it was obvious that making love was not bound by normal physical restrictions.
As soon as Alex reached the Orchard, he went to his sister’s room. Annabelle had not expected him so soon, and she hurled herself into his arms with an enthusiasm that almost landed them both on the floor. He sat down rather quickly. After the initial babble of greeting had subsided, he asked, “Where’s Christa?”
Annabelle looked surprised. “You didn’t know? She has left us. There was a family emergency of some sort. She took the coach back to London the day after her return from Stornaway.”
“What!” Alex exploded.
