“Busy busy. So, this little trip is like a good getaway.”
Their gazes teased, then she broke away, looking up like she could capture a falling star.
Impossible to catch herself.
It was his job now to support her and help her reach for whatever she wanted. That was a new mission he could grasp if she would accept him.
“My lord, never seen so many lights in a night sky.”
“There were many the night we met. Remember, Cecilia?”
“Can’t quite forget. It was the warmest I’ve been in forever. You could see Cepheus in the sky. Tonight, I see Orion.”
“You saved me that night. I will always be grateful.”
She stopped in front of him. “Guess you sort of saved me. I could’ve been wed to Gladstone. I could’ve been Helena.” She bit her lip. “I would rather have suffered than my little sister.”
He rubbed her arms and pulled her closer. “No thinking of him tonight. Let us save that for tomorrow’s mission planning.”
“Do you ever think about becoming the duke, the new Tramel?”
“Haven’t thought of much but you.”
She stroked his arm. “Felton, I didn’t want you angry.”
“Do I want my father to die? No. Do I want to be around him? No. Do I want to lose you to him? Never.”
Cecilia jerked away and headed in the opposite direction.
“Stop running. Please.”
With her back to him, she did, planting her slippers into the gravel. “I’m not running. I’m walking. I like to walk.”
He paced to her and caught her hand. “Cecilia, you’ve been gone a long time. Much of that time was at Warwick. I don’t want Tramel to come between us anymore, but I don’t know how he won’t.”
Her head dropped forward, then she spun to him.
“I spent three months at Warwick. Tramel was wonderful, so caring. When you and the girls didn’t come for Christmas, the duke and I spent the season together. It was magical, the food, the walks along the grounds, the cliffs of Ballard. The way the fog skims the water and flows to the top is pure magic. He had fireworks explode, sparkling over the house. I painted and walked every day until I left for Demerara.”
It was an answer, but it didn’t match the sadness in her eyes. “I didn’t break my vows, but as my art found freedom, I loved you a little less each day.”
“And you began to love Tramel a little more.”
Her head buried against his chest. “Yes. It’s why I didn’t go back to him after Demerara. I couldn’t risk a deeper attachment.”
Her suppressed accent was full and lush. “I never, we never . . . but he took your place in my dreams. It was very confusing to have these feelings for you and Tramel.”
If he completed a thorough investigation, he’d have to ask who she loved more. But a fool prone to jealousy didn’t need more ammunition. “Your returning to London saved us, the possibility of us remaining friends?”
“It saved me. I couldn’t risk losing any more of my heart. I had hoped you’d have given up on me, so I’d never have to tell you how much my heart changed because I was careless.”
“Cilia, I was careless. Tramel will always be Tramel, but it was I who caused the alienation of your affections. Accusing you of infidelity broke your trust and left you vulnerable to a man like the duke, who’s lived a life collecting art and women.”
“Tell me you forgive me, Felton. I never meant . . .”
“I studied your paintings and how you dated them on the back. I saw the progressive sadness in the images. I’d already lost you when I left on my last mission. The final image—the stark winter—is heartbreaking.”
Smoothing her shoulders, he wanted to go back in time and fix everything. “The ones at Warwick grow bright and get warmer, until you—I suspect you confirmed your sister’s fate.”
