David’s clenched hands and jaw slowly softened after we made the turn. I spent most of the time looking out the window, especiallywhen we were in view of Tate Hall. It was probably the last time I would see it. I might come and visit the Mortensens when funds allowed it, but I didn’t think I would have the courage to walk anywhere near Tate Hall. Especially not after David married, which he was certain to do in the future.
We arrived back at the cottage after saying only a few sentences to each other. David alighted the carriage, turned, and held out his hand to me. I took it, and he helped me down. My feet landed on the ground, and we both turned toward the front door. His hand was still warm in mine, and he showed no signs of releasing me. We stared at the door. The moment we crossed into the cottage and sat with Mama, our short charade would be over. Neither of us moved.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a blustering movement. I looked up to see a smattering of snow falling from the sky. A few large flakes drifted to the ground, then a few more. I held out my free hand to catch one, but the second it hit the warmth of my glove, it melted.
So beautiful and so short-lived.
Just like our engagement.
David’s grip on my hand tightened, and he pulled me off the path leading to the front door. “You can’t go in yet,” he said.
“But I must.”
“No.” He was firm. “At the risk of sounding like Mr. Green, once again—” He glanced at Mama’s coat. “You owe me one thing.”
If he told me we hadn’t met our quota on kissing, I didn’t know what I would do. I held firm in the belief that kissing him once hadn’t been a mistake, but to do so twice? How would I ever leave him?
“What is it?” I asked, uncertain I could say no if he asked me. Uncertain if I wanted to say no at all.
“A dance.” He motioned with his free hand toward the path that led to the rear of the cottage, away from the eyes of the footmanand where Mama was unlikely to see us through a window. “The last thing on our list.”
“You said we should skip over that one. And Mama already knows we aren’t engaged. We don’t need to convince anyone of anything anymore.”
David’s eyes were serious. “I convinced everyone the moment they walked into the drawing room and found you in my arms. That list has never been about anyone else but us, and I want to finish it.”
He motioned with his hand again. I sighed and allowed my feet to take a few steps in that direction. He pulled me gently forward until we reached the back garden. With a quick glance, David strode behind a large beech tree, placing it between us and the view of the house before he stopped and turned to me. “Will you dance with me, Anna? Please? One waltz, perhaps two. Then we can officially dissolve our engagement.”
I took a steadying breath. Dancing in David’s arms was going to be the sweetest pain, second only to kissing him. But I couldn’t say no. Mama and I would be isolated again in Lincolnshire. After receiving my inheritance, I could try to find love, but with a broken engagement and not enough funds for a Season, I couldn’t count on ever having another chance to be this close to a man. He’d shown me what it was like to be loved by him, and even though none of it had been real, I didn’t think I’d ever be satisfied with anything less. No one but David would ever be enough.
I wanted more memories. I was greedy for them. David was my one chance to fill a jar of tender moments, and I wanted his arms around me one last time before I closed the lid. “We don’t have any music.” My protest was weak—a protest I meant for him to overcome.
His mouth slowly slid into a grin, and he took an unfaltering step toward me. “I’ve heard the music you make. I think we will manage without it.”
I gave him a look of mock indignation. The world shifted, and I found myself back in our comfortable place of jesting and pretending. This dance didn’t have to be painful. I wouldn’t allow it to be. David had been drawn to me as a boy because, he claimed, I’d been a bright spot in his otherwise unhappy childhood. I would dance with him and be brilliant so when he looked back on this time of ours together, he could feel the same way again. “This from the man who needed reminding of the words toPolly Put the Kettle On.”
He lifted my hand toward his shoulder with a question in his eyes. I nodded, and he let my hand fall onto the warmth of his coat. “This from the woman who thanked me multiple times for the rock I gave her but never for the flowers.”
An edge of sun broke through the clouds, and snowflakes burst into bright spots of light. David put his hand on my shoulder blade, and even through Mama’s thick coat, I was immediately warmer under his touch. “I didn’t mean to disparage your voice earlier,” he said. “Your voice is what I will miss the most. I would actually love it if you sang for us.”
I blinked and saw David as he’d been eight years ago—a scrawny boy holding his dying hound. He hadn’t cared then that I couldn’t carry a tune, and he wouldn’t care now. “I don’t know any waltzes with words.”
“Then perhaps you could hum?”
I nodded and began humming one of Chopin’s waltzes, at least to the best of my abilities. I was stiff in my first few notes, but when David exhaled deeply, as if he’d released all his worries out into the world, I let my worries slide away as well. The hand at my back tugged me closer, and I sank into his arms.
Torture was a strange beast.
I let my years of dancing instruction slip away. David wasn’t following the precise movements of a man who had spent his adolescence preparing to lead women out onto a ballroom floor anyway.Whether that was because he hadn’t been trained or he was simply throwing his training out the window, I neither knew nor cared. His hand slid lower on my back, and he tightened his hold on me. I closed my eyes, allowing all the air in my lungs to escape, then dropped my head onto his shoulder.
During my one Season, I’d danced polkas and waltzes as well as a few country dances, but no one had ever dared hold me this close. This wasn’t a dance; it was an embrace. A farewell. One made only slightly more appropriate by being hidden within a waltz.
As he completed a turn, the weight of his chin settled on my temple, and I missed one of the notes in my song. I couldn’t even remember what the next note should be. A steady hum from David’s throat picked up where I’d faltered, and the song came rushing back to me. We finished the last few strains together, our voices softening and slowing as we neared the end.
When we ran out of notes, David stopped dancing, but he didn’t release me.
With no song to hum and no steps to worry about, my mind went back to the place I had tried so hard to avoid.
This was farewell.
