“I will do it nevertheless,” he said, handing her back into his carriage. “And for tonight you are Miss Kent, my sister.”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. But what can it mean? Matthew did not have Daniel bury Hobson because he wanted to bring him home. But this is home, and the burial was not here.”
“I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation,” he said, taking her hand in his again. “I shall discover what it is tomorrow. Are you hungry? And don’t say no. I am, and I hate eating alone.”
“A little,” she said. She smiled quickly at him. “Oh, not very.But what can be the meaning of it? Have we come all this way for nothing? Is this business never to have an ending?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “For the rest of this evening you are going to sit and watch me eat, and eat a little yourself, and tell me all about your early childhood. I entertained you this afternoon before we both fell asleep. Now it is your turn.”
“There is not much to tell,” she said. “My parents died when I was eight. I cannot remember a great deal.”
“More than you think, I will wager,” he said. “Here we are. I hope this inn offers somewhat better accommodation than the one in your village. And better food too.”
They were given small rooms next to each other. There was nothing fancy about either one, but the inn did boast a private parlor, which the duke engaged for the evening. There were about a dozen men in the public taproom.
She should feel embarrassed, Fleur thought. She was alone during the darkness of the evening with the Duke of Ridgeway. They were to sleep in adjoining rooms in a village inn. They had been alone together all day, their hands clasped for most of the time. And she had woken up at some time late in the afternoon with her head on his shoulder.
She had removed it carefully, hoping that he was asleep too and would not know. But he had been quietly looking out of the window. Her hand had still been in his. And he had turned his head to smile at her. She had smiled back a little shamefaced but not nearly as confused as she might have expected to be.
It was almost as if, she thought, when they had left Heron House they had also left behind them the world and normal life and normal propriety. Almost as if they had made a tacit and mutual agreement to live these two days as if they were the only two days left in life.
And in a way they were. By the next night they would be back at Heron House. The morning after, he would leave and she would never see or hear from him again.
Two days seemed very little time.
No, there was no time for embarrassment or awkwardness between them. There was only the rest of that evening and the next day.
They sat a long time over their dinner. And she discovered that he had been quite right. When she started talking about her childhood, she found that she remembered incidents and feelings she had not thought of for years.
“I suppose,” she said at last, “that I should be thankful for those eight years. Many children do not have even that long a time of love and security. I have been in the habit of thinking that I had a rather hard lot. It does me good to remember.”
“Fleur,” he said, his dark eyes smiling at her, “youhavehad a hard lot. But you are a strong person, a survivor. I hope that one day you will find a happiness you have never even dreamed possible.”
“I will settle for contentment,” she said. And she told him her plans.
“The children will be fortunate,” he said. “I know you are a good teacher and care for children, Fleur. And I would guess that Miss Booth is well-liked too. And what about the Reverened Daniel Booth?”
“What about him?” she asked warily.
“You were to marry him,” he said. “You loved him, didn’t you?”
“I thought I did,” she said. “He was kind to me at a time when I did not know much kindness. And he is a handsome man.”
“You don’t love him now?” he asked.
“I think he is too good for me,” she said. “He can see a clear distinction between right and wrong, and he will stick by what he believes to be right no matter what. I can see too many shades of gray. I would not make a good clergyman’s wife.”
“Has he asked you again?”
“Yes,” she said. “I said no.” She hesitated. “I told him everything. Except your name.”
“Yes,” he said, “you would tell him. And he did not repeat his offer?”
“I had already refused,” she said.
“He cannot love you, Fleur,” he said. “He is not worthy of you. If I were in his place, I would fight for the rest of a lifetime to get you to change your mind. And I would honor you the more for your courage and your honesty.”
She repositioned the spoon in her saucer. “A clergyman is not worthy of a whore?” she said. “Are we living in a topsy-turvy world?”
