Preoccupied as she was, she didn’t even hear him approach.
He was only a few feet away from her when she caught the wild flutter of his coat in her peripheral vision and turned her head.
“Gil…” She breathed his name, and her heart felt as though it was stuttering into life again for the first time in weeks, beating a ragged and unfamiliar tattoo to see him standing not ten feet away, so solid and real.
Why is he here?
She schooled herself to present a calm expression as she rose, despite her inner turmoil. Time seemed to slow, and she felt as though she was walking through water as she stepped forward to greet him. “Gil—this is a surprise.”
His gaze travelled over her face, lingering till her smile began to feel taut and tense.
“Hello, Rose,” he said at last, lifting his hand to take off his hat. The wind immediately ripped through his dark hair, making it wild and unruly. It was whipping about his face, and his coat was fluttering, and the ends of his neckcloth were flying about too, but Gil, at the centre of all that movement, was as still as a rock. His hazel eyes fixed on her with an odd, wary look she’d not seen on his face before.
“Suddenly, I find I don’t know what to say,” he said with a humorless laugh. “After coming three hundred miles to see you.”
She stared at him, not knowing what to say either. She couldn’t imagine why he was here. After a moment, he closed the distance that separated them. It took him two long strides. She had to tip her head to look into his face then, and when she did, it was to see that he appeared deeply troubled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You didn’t invite me for Christmas,” he said at last, and she wondered if she’d misheard him. His words were so unexpected, so at odds with his unhappy expression. “Every year, you invite me for Christmas,” he added. “Except this one.”
She attempted a smile, but it was a poor thing, wavery and uncertain. “I rather assumed you would not wish to come.”
“Your assumption was wrong,” he retorted, and she felt an odd little flutter in her chest. She quashed the feeling quickly, sternly reminding herself that hope was a terrible thing. That she’d given it up.
“I don’t understand,” she replied, watching him carefully.
He gave another of those self-mocking laughs, his jaw tense and set. “God, I’m awful at this.” And then he took a deep breath. “The thing is, Rose—I miss you.”
“You miss me?” Her heart began beating wildly, and she struggled to maintain her calm façade.
“Yes, I miss you. I didn’t want you to leave London.”
“No?” For the life of her, she couldn’t utter another word. It was an effort just to get that single syllable out on a whispered breath.
“In fact, the truth is, I very much wanted you to stay. With me, I mean.”
She frowned at that, her initial reaction one of disbelief.
“But after you lost the baby, I thought I should let you go,” he continued. “I thought that it would be wrong to ask you to stay.”
Her heart wrenched. “Did you?” she said. “I wish you’d told me.”
“I wanted you to decide for yourself what you wanted, and you seemed desperate to leave.” He raised a gloveless hand to her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “And who could blame you? I’ve been the worst of husbands. I wasn’t even with you when you lost our baby. And I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m so, so sorry for all the times I failed you.”
His gaze was bleak, without hope, and she stared into his eyes, torn between the urge to comfort him and fascinated wonder as to what he might say next.
“Would it have made a difference, if you’d known?” he asked, his voice husky, his hazel eyes pleading.
And in that instant, something quickened deep inside her, a seed of hope germinating when she’d thought she was done with hope forever. “Yes,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes. “It would have made all the difference in the world.”
Gil let out a shuddery breath—she didn’t know if it was from relief or fear. A smile trembled at the edges of his mouth, but he looked sick with nerves too. “There’s something I must say,” he began. The wind buffeted them, and he closed his eyes. She saw him steel himself for what he was about to say next.
“Rose.” He paused. And then he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. “I love you.”
“Do you?” she whispered. A lump in her throat made saying more than that impossible.
“With all my heart. And I realise that you do not feel as I do, but perhaps, in time…”