“Ah, that’s a pity. For the sake o’ ten minutes. But time and tide, as they say. Good day to you, guv.” The man stuck his pipe between his teeth, touched his cap, and headed off.
Ambrose continued to gaze at the departing ship, his mind willing it to return, knowing it was impossible.Ten minutes. Ten bloody minutes! Lydia, please forgive me.
A gull screeched overhead, a mocking sound that served to intensify the icy flow of regret coursing through Ambrose’s veins. “Christ help me,” he mumbled again and turned to rest his forehead against the horse’s damp neck, closing his eyes against the scalding threat of tears. “What have I done?”
“Milord?”
Ambrose straightened at the sound of his driver’s voice and looked once more toward the departing ships as he collected himself. He sniffed, cleared his throat, and surreptitiously wiped an errant tear from his cheek. “You did well, Hulme,” he said, without turning and with as much matter-of-factness he couldmuster. Not easy, since it felt as though someone had plowed a fist into his stomach and thrust a blade through his heart. “I appreciate the effort, but it would appear…” He cleared his throat again. “It would appear we’re too late.”
“Milord,” Hulme repeated, the emphasis in his voice causing Ambrose to glance at him. The fellow smiled briefly and then gestured by pointing his chin. Frowning, Ambrose followed the implied direction to see several men, partially obscured in the haze, busy unloading cargo from a ship moored nearby. He didn’t see the relevance and opened his mouth to say so. But then a figure moving past the men caught his eye. A solitary woman trailing a slow path through the mist, head bent, hair loosely tied back, a bag of some sort cradled against her chest. She appeared to be lost in thought. Bereft, somehow.
Ambrose let go of the horse’s mane and took a tentative step forward as a fragile spark of hope flared. It couldn’t be Lydia, could it? Yet the silhouette, the way she walked. The golden hair. It looked like her. Hardly daring to believe, Ambrose threw a questioning glance back at Hulme, seeking affirmation.
“Reckon the young lady must’ve changed her mind about leaving, milord,” Hulme said with a smile and a shrug. As if in agreement, a gull, perched on a nearby capstan, parted with an emphatic chorus of shrieks, startling Ambrose. The bird’s ungainly racket seemingly snared the attention of the young woman as well, who lifted her head. As if colliding with an invisible object, she halted when her gaze settled squarely on Ambrose.
And erased all his doubt.
“You didn’t leave,” Ambrose muttered, tears welling once more. “You’re here, Lydia. You’re still here.”
Did he dare believe it was because she still loved him? Aching with apprehension, he moved toward her. She, in response, also moved, but veered slightly away from him, her stride slowerthan before, her expression as yet unreadable. Ambrose hoped he imagined the reluctance in her step, though he could hardly blame her for it. After the way he’d treated her, he should be throwing himself at her feet and begging forgiveness.
As if realizing she couldn’t escape the inevitable, Lydia paused, glanced heavenward for a moment, and then turned to look at Ambrose once more, her expression, if anything, disdainful. Ambrose continued to approach and halted a stride away, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He inclined his head. “Miss Page.”
“Lord Pendlewood.” The contempt in her voice matched her cold expression. She dropped into a low curtsy, an exaggerated gesture of respect that felt more like a slap in the face. Ambrose clenched his jaw.What to say?
“Um, I suppose you must be wondering what I’m doing here,” he said, cringing inwardly the moment the ridiculous words tumbled from his lips.
“I could not begin to guess.” Lydia’s chin lifted slightly. “Trying to make sense of your atrocious behavior is not, unfortunately, something I excel at. Whatever your design, I shall leave you to it and bid you a good day. I am eager to get home.”
She went to move past him.
“No, please wait.” Ambrose put his hand out, not quite touching her. “I must speak with you. It is why I’m here.”
“There is nothing to be said,” she replied, and kept walking.
“But there is, Miss Page.” Ambrose caught up and fell into stride beside her. “I wish to explain and to apologize for my recent behavior.”
She laughed, but kept her eyes forward. “I’m not interested in hearing you.”
“And I cannot blame you for that,” he replied. “You probably hate me. God knows, I hate myself, hate what I’ve done. Mytreatment of you has been abysmal. Shameful in the extreme. I owe you a thousand apologies and even that would not be enough. The truth is, I made a terrible mistake. A colossal error in judgment. You see, I believed you’d been less than honest with me, but I recently discovered I was wrong. It was a misunderstanding on my part and I deeply regret it. I am beyond sorry.”
She gave him a brief, sideways glance. “Please leave me be. I have no desire to listen to your fabricated excuses.”
“They are not fabri…” Ambrose’s raised voice faltered as did his stride.Damn it to hell.Being argumentative served no purpose. But, if she refused to hear him, how could he even begin to repair the damage he’d done? He silently cursed his inability to express how he truly felt, until Bessie Dove-Lyon’s voice whispered in his ear.
“To hell with decorum. You must speak from the heart.”
“No, Lydia,” he replied, catching up with her once more. “I will not leave you be. I cannot, because I love you, damn it. I have loved you since that moonlit night in the garden. There is a reason for my atrocious behavior, if you’ll only give me a chance to ex—”
“Youloveme?” Lydia halted and spun around, eyes flashing, lip curled, teeth bared. It was a manifestation of fury, alarming, yet strangely stimulating. “What is the vile, wretched thing that beats beneath those ribs of yours? It cannot be a real heart, for a real heart would not allow you to treat me as you have. Declaring me to be yourunderlingand carelessly casting me aside as if I had never existed in your life, as if all that took place between us meantnothing. And now you have the audacity to mock my intelligence by telling me youloveme? How dare you! Do you take me for a complete fool? Hear me well, Lord Pendlewood. You can take your false declarations of love, and… andshovethem. I want nothing more to do with—”
“I saw you, Lydia!” Ambrose jerked his head to where the ships were departing. “I saw you withhimin the little park at the end of your street. That is what started all this. If you doubt me, it was on the morning of Friday, May 28th, close to noon. Believe me, that day, the memory of it, clear in every detail, has burned itself into my brain. I watched him pluck a flower and give it to you. I watched him hold you and kiss you, all without any sign of resistance or rebuke on your part. I stood on the other side of that blasted hedge with a marriage license and an engagement ring in my pocket, and watched you sharing intimacies with another man. And I swear before God, Lydia, it broke me. Shattered whatever this… this vile, wretched thing is that beats beneath my ribs. I trusted you absolutely. Without question! I was so sure of us, so certain I’d found my countess. And then, in less than a minute, everything that had taken place between us suddenly meant nothing, and all I could do was walk away. Yes, I cast you aside as if you never existed in my life, because at that moment, I believed you no longer did and likely never had.”
Lydia, chest rising and falling, stared at him, an expression of bewilderment on her face. “What are you… what are you saying? I don’t understand. You were still in Nottingham when Bertie…” She shook her head. “Amarriagelicense?”
“I left Nottingham a couple of days early,” he replied, and then groaned. “Because I missed you, Lydia. And yes, my intent was to propose marriage. It was meant to be a surprise, but the surprise was mine when I saw you with him. No, not surprise. Shock. Profound shock. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
Lydia gasped. “For Heaven’s sake, Ambrose, why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
