“You don’t think so?”
“No. He loved her, and he was devastated by her betrayal. I don’t deny it precipitated his decline, but it wasn’t what caused his death. He died because he gave up, my lord.”
“What did he give up, Juliet?” But he already knew. James Templeton had become a recluse after his wife’s disgrace.
“Everything. He cast all his friends aside, and fled London for our home in Buckinghamshire. He confined himself to our property, at first, but over time, he grew increasingly reluctant to leave Hambleden House itself. By the time he died, it had been six months since he’d set foot outdoors.”
Ah, so that’s what this was. Her sudden appearance in his study, her strange insistence on discussing her father…this was a cautionary tale, a warning not to let the same thing happen to him. “You’ve been speaking with Lord Barnaby, haven’t you?”
“Your cousin is concerned for you, Lord Cross. He’s afraid you’ll be unhappy if you remain at Steeple Cross alone.”
“Alone, with two dozen servants, Miss Templeton? Lord Barnaby has exaggerated the situation. He has visions of me barring the front door and retreating to my study, never to emerge again, but I can assure you I don’t intend to become a recluse.”
What was the word Barnaby had used? Hermit.
“No oneintends to become a recluse, my lord.” She gave him a sad smile. “It happens by degrees, and so gradually one doesn’t notice it until it’s too late.”
“It won’t happen tome.”
He wouldn’t venture back into town anytime soon, but that was nothing new. He’d always despised town, and avoided it as much as possible. He didn’t intend to entertain, either, but he’d see Barnaby and Lady Cora, and Melrose, of course.
When the weather permitted it. Steeple Cross was rather isolated, and the Oxfordshire weather could be harsh, with snow and ice rendering the roads impassable.
But that was only during the winter months—
“You can’t imagine how painful it is to watch a loved one deteriorate as my father did, Lord Cross.” Her voice was soft. “To see him so broken, such a pale shadow of his former self. People aren’t meant to be alone, to be cut off from everyone who—”
“Whichpeople, Juliet?”
She jumped, her eyes going wide.
Damn it, he hadn’t meant to raise his voice to her, but with every word she said the hard, tight knot in his chest pulled tighter, and he couldn’t bear to hear any more. “I beg your pardon. I’m sorry for your family, but what was true for your father might not be true for another man.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I mean that some peoplearemeant to be alone.” His father, for one.
“What are you saying, my lord?” She paused, her throat working. “Do you mean you consideryourselfto be one of those people?”
Did he? He’d been certain of it, once, but it was no longer as black and white as it had been. Perhaps Barnaby was right, and he wasn’t as much like his father as he’d always supposed, but what if…
What if Barnaby was wrong? What if he gave in to the demands of his heart, and brought Juliet to Steeple Cross, or to his seat in Kent, and it turned out Barnaby waswrong? That hewasthe sort of man who ruined people, just like his father had been?
“Yes. I’ve never liked people much.” And for the most part, they’d returned the favor. “I’m not a tolerant man, Juliet, nor a particularly kind one.”
A heavy silence fell between them then, stretching until it had pulled into a fine, gossamer thread, but like a spiderweb, it refused to snap. It kept pulling tighter, thinner, taking his nerves with it until they were screaming in protest.
“Is that what you think?” She whispered at last.
He swallowed, shrugged.
“Then you don’t see yourself as I see you.” She rose to her feet, and made her way to the door. “I see you, Miles. I have from the start.”
He should let her go—let her walk out, and put an end to this agony, but…
Not yet.Not yet. “Wait, Juliet.”
She paused at the door, her back to him still.
