He was smiling at her. “I am glad you have a good friend to be close to you,” he said.
“Miriam?” she said. “I have other friends in the village too, Adam. Or acquaintances who will be friends as soon as I am living among them and no longer at the house. Don’t worry about me. I will be happy.”
“Will you?” He was looking sideways into her face, a mere few inches from his own.
“Yes,” she said. “The pain will be intense for a while. I knowit and expect it. But it will fade. I don’t intend to pine away. I intend to live. I have had my little glimpse of paradise, which is more than many people have in a lifetime. Now I will go back to living.”
“Pamela was upset when I left,” he said. “I have not always been unselfish where she is concerned. I have left her far too often. I am looking forward to getting back to her.”
“Yes,” she said, “and so you should be. She is worth living for, Adam.”
The carriage rumbled over the wooden bridge that would take them into the village. Fleur closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his shoulder. His hand tightened again over hers.
“Oh, God,” she said.
“Courage.” His cheek came to rest against the top of her head. “If I had a choice between feeling this pain and not doing so, Fleur, I would choose the pain because without it there would never have been you.”
“I am greedy.” She took a deep and audible breath. “I want the pain gone and I want you, Adam. I don’t know if I am strong enough to do this.”
His hold on her hand was painful. “You want me to take you somewhere where we can be together occasionally, then?” he asked.
“Once a year? Twice a year?” Her eyes were still closed. “Heaven to look forward to twice a year?”
“It could be more often if you were close,” he said.
“A cozy cottage near Willoughby?” She was smiling. “And your visits to look forward to frequently. And never having to say good-bye. And children perhaps. Yours and mine. Would they be dark or red-haired, do you think?” Her voice disappeared into a thin thread.
“If it is what you want,” he said, “I will give you that life.”
“No,” she said. “We are just talking of dreams, Adam. With a little temptation mixed in. Neither of us would be able to accept it as reality.”
The carriage was turning from the main roadway to wind up the long driveway to Heron House.
“When we get there,” she said, “don’t come into the house with me, Adam. Just drive away.”
“Yes,” he said.
They said no more, but just sat as they were. She wanted him to take her into his arms and hoped he would not. She would not be able to bear it if he did. She would begin thinking that dreams could be made reality.
One more bend in the driveway and they would be through the gateway and on the straight axis with the house. Two more minutes at the longest.
“I’ll not be able to say anything,” she whispered. “Just leave.”
“I love you,” he said. “For all of my life and forever and eternity. I love you, Fleur.”
She nodded and turned her head to press her face briefly into his shoulder.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
Two people were coming down the steps of the house as the carriage drew up before it. Miriam and Daniel, Fleur saw.
“Isabella!” Miriam cried as Ned Driscoll opened the carriage door and let down the steps. “We have just ridden over to see if you were home yet. We expected you yesterday. Oh, good afternoon, your grace.” She curtsied hurriedly.
The Reverend Booth reached up a hand to help her down. “Isabella,” he said, watching the duke climb out behind her, “did you not take a maid? Why did you not do so?”
“Did you find Hobson’s grave?” Miriam asked. “And is your mind now set at rest, Isabella? Word was circulating in the village yesterday that there are no longer any charges against you, that the death was an accident and the supposed theft a misunderstanding. It is all over, the whole ghastly business. Is it not, Daniel?”
“Miss Bradshaw,” a quiet voice said from behind Fleur, “I will be taking my leave.”
