mother said, “perhaps you and I can step into the corridor for a few moments, and catch up on these many years we’ve missed?”
“That would be marvelous, Lady Dorset,” her aunt replied. “Leave the door open a crack for propriety's sake, won’t you, my lord?” And with that, the two older ladies left the room.
Annabelle took a deep breath, turning to face him. “I apologize for my earlier weakness, Lord Dorset,” she said without preamble. “It was no doubt the heat.”
What an odd thing to say, after so many years apart. Was she embarrassed to have fainted? She shouldn’t be. The shock of seeing her had nearly felled him. He took a step forward, hoping to put her at ease, but she moved behind the settee in an obvious effort to avoid him. The hands he’d reached out fell awkwardly back to his sides. Whatever he’d expected, it was not this. Annabelle was distant, almost haughty. A different person entirely from the woman who’d once kissed him so passionately.
“This is quite an unexpected surprise,” she continued. “It has been a very long time.”
“I’m happy to see you again, Annabelle. I am so relieved you are well.”
Her eyes glittered at that—in the same way they had when she was furious as a child—but when she spoke, her voice was impassive. “And are you well, my lord?” she asked, looking past him to the open window.
“I suppose I am. I have just returned from the war on the Peninsula.”
“Yes, I know. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your father.”
“May I offer the same for your mother? I only learned of it recently. I was going to stop at Astley Castle when we reached Nuneaton.”
“Really? How thoughtful.”
It was obvious she didn’t believe him, but she was trying hard to remain calm. This new Annabelle, who measured her words and actions, was almost a stranger. He was suddenly desperate to ease the strain between them.
“I have missed you and our friendship. After the accident, I was so worried you wouldn’t recover.”
“Were you indeed, Alec?” He could hear the disdain in her voice.
“Of course I was. You can’t know how often you’ve been in my thoughts since that terrible day.”
She was truly angry now. He could see it in every line of her body. “Is that the excuse you’ve given yourself? That a thought now and then was good enough for the friends you’d left behind—one of them broken, one of them dead?”
He’d almost forgotten it in the shock of seeing her. She had every right to be angry.
“I have wanted to ask for your forgiveness. I know what my carelessness brought about. I know the horrible pain I’ve caused you. I am more sorry than I can say.”
“All I know is that I woke up one morning to find that my brother was dead and my leg half-ripped from my body,” she replied coldly. “My poor mother, she’d very nearly gone mad. Father was not far behind. And you were gone.”
He was stung by her bitterness. And it was unfair she blamed him for leaving. Blame him for the accident, yes. Blame him for wanting her, yes. But not for being forced to leave. That had been her mother’s doing. “You know I had no choice, Annabelle, though I wish it had been otherwise.
“I’m not interested in your excuses,” she said. “Mother shared them with me long ago. You did what you thought you had to do, and it seems silly to dwell on a past that can’t be righted, no matter how much one might wish it.”
“You don’t seem to understand.” How could the vow he’d made be considered an excuse?
“There is nothing to understand. I was hurt, of course, when you left without a word,” she said offhandedly. “But after all, there were battles to fight a thousand miles from home.”
Something was not right. “Annabelle, despite what happened, I did leave word. I left a letter behind. I even bribed one of the footmen—he was new, I think—to deliver it. In it, I tried to explain—”
“There was never any
“That would be marvelous, Lady Dorset,” her aunt replied. “Leave the door open a crack for propriety's sake, won’t you, my lord?” And with that, the two older ladies left the room.
Annabelle took a deep breath, turning to face him. “I apologize for my earlier weakness, Lord Dorset,” she said without preamble. “It was no doubt the heat.”
What an odd thing to say, after so many years apart. Was she embarrassed to have fainted? She shouldn’t be. The shock of seeing her had nearly felled him. He took a step forward, hoping to put her at ease, but she moved behind the settee in an obvious effort to avoid him. The hands he’d reached out fell awkwardly back to his sides. Whatever he’d expected, it was not this. Annabelle was distant, almost haughty. A different person entirely from the woman who’d once kissed him so passionately.
“This is quite an unexpected surprise,” she continued. “It has been a very long time.”
“I’m happy to see you again, Annabelle. I am so relieved you are well.”
Her eyes glittered at that—in the same way they had when she was furious as a child—but when she spoke, her voice was impassive. “And are you well, my lord?” she asked, looking past him to the open window.
“I suppose I am. I have just returned from the war on the Peninsula.”
“Yes, I know. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your father.”
“May I offer the same for your mother? I only learned of it recently. I was going to stop at Astley Castle when we reached Nuneaton.”
“Really? How thoughtful.”
It was obvious she didn’t believe him, but she was trying hard to remain calm. This new Annabelle, who measured her words and actions, was almost a stranger. He was suddenly desperate to ease the strain between them.
“I have missed you and our friendship. After the accident, I was so worried you wouldn’t recover.”
“Were you indeed, Alec?” He could hear the disdain in her voice.
“Of course I was. You can’t know how often you’ve been in my thoughts since that terrible day.”
She was truly angry now. He could see it in every line of her body. “Is that the excuse you’ve given yourself? That a thought now and then was good enough for the friends you’d left behind—one of them broken, one of them dead?”
He’d almost forgotten it in the shock of seeing her. She had every right to be angry.
“I have wanted to ask for your forgiveness. I know what my carelessness brought about. I know the horrible pain I’ve caused you. I am more sorry than I can say.”
“All I know is that I woke up one morning to find that my brother was dead and my leg half-ripped from my body,” she replied coldly. “My poor mother, she’d very nearly gone mad. Father was not far behind. And you were gone.”
He was stung by her bitterness. And it was unfair she blamed him for leaving. Blame him for the accident, yes. Blame him for wanting her, yes. But not for being forced to leave. That had been her mother’s doing. “You know I had no choice, Annabelle, though I wish it had been otherwise.
“I’m not interested in your excuses,” she said. “Mother shared them with me long ago. You did what you thought you had to do, and it seems silly to dwell on a past that can’t be righted, no matter how much one might wish it.”
“You don’t seem to understand.” How could the vow he’d made be considered an excuse?
“There is nothing to understand. I was hurt, of course, when you left without a word,” she said offhandedly. “But after all, there were battles to fight a thousand miles from home.”
Something was not right. “Annabelle, despite what happened, I did leave word. I left a letter behind. I even bribed one of the footmen—he was new, I think—to deliver it. In it, I tried to explain—”
“There was never any
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