“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.”
“You are not coming into the house, your grace?” Miriam asked.
Fleur turned, her friends just a couple of steps behind her. She lifted her hands and he took them. He looked deeply into her eyes as he raised one to his lips.
“Good-bye,” he said.
Adam. Her lips formed his name, though no sound emerged.
And he was gone—into the carriage to sit on the far side while Ned closed the door, turned to smile and incline his head to her, and vaulted up onto the box with the coachman.
And he was gone, along the driveway, through the gates, and around the first bend.
He was gone.
“Well, he was in a hurry to leave,” Miriam said cheerfully. “Isabella, you foolish, independent woman. Why did you not call on me to go with you? You know I would have closed the school for a few days. But by the time Daniel had told me that he had refused to accompany you, you were gone already. And imagine our dismay to discover that you had gone with the Duke of Ridgeway.”
“It is done, Miriam,” the Reverend Booth said. “There is no point in scolding further. We will come inside with you, if we may, Isabella. It will relieve your mind, no doubt, to tell us all that happened.”
“You must be exhausted,” Miriam said, stepping forward to take her arm. She smiled up into her face and then turned back sharply to her brother. “Take Isabella’s bag inside, will you, Daniel? I want to have a brief word with her before we join you.”
She waited until he had disappeared into the house.
“Oh, Isabella,” she said quietly, touching her friend’s arm, patting it. “Oh, my poor, poor dear.”
Fleur stood staring down the driveway as if turned to stone.
AT LEAST THERE WAS PLENTY with which to keep herself busy. Fleur was thankful for that fact more than for any other in the coming days and weeks. At least there was plenty to do.