“It’s your father.” She pushed to her feet. “Never mind. Perhaps he will be less angry if I leave. Unfortunately, he’s taken enough strength from me to plague you. I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have agreed to this walk.”
“Giselle—” he began as he tried to stand, but she waved him back.
“No, no. Don’t get up. You’re in pain from your wretch of a father—”
Another burst of agony made him miss her next words. It certainly kept him from finding his feet.
“—maple tree is strong. He’ll help you if you stay with him for a while.” She backed up a step. “Honestly, Jonathan, it was good to see you again. I’ll get my package from your footman and be on my way.”
He wanted to stop her. He wanted to keep her beside him until his headache eased and he could speak rationally. Or at least wait until she could speak rationally to him. Ghosts. Sentient maple trees. Stuff and nonsense. All brought on by their environment.
Who sat in a graveyard to talk to an old flame?
He watched her disappear out of the church yard. He remembered now how her imagination had always been a problem between them. He’d always distracted her with a kiss or twenty, but he’d feared that her imagination had solidified into belief. Ghosts. Fairies. How sad to see that her confusion had continued into adulthood.
Such was the way with some people. Reality was too hard to face, and so they put their thoughts into ghosts and goblins rather than manage the difficulties of the here and now. How hard had life been for her to take refuge in her fantasies? And how much responsibility did he bear for her situation?
He was the one who had pursued her, who had kissed her and taken her virginity. That was bad enough, but he’dimpetuously told his father that he intended to marry her. What an idiot he’d been! And his father had been vicious in his retaliation.
The old viscount had removed her father as their vicar. He’d tarnished the man’s name, banished the whole family from the parish, and Jonathan had never heard from them again until now. He’d been sent back early to school, and then off to Scotland to manage the estate up there.
He’d hoped her family had landed on their feet. He should have known better. There were no lucrative positions for a man cast out by a viscount. And no good way for a man of God to prosper with a family of seven children. So how did they survive?
By blessing potions for a London apothecary. Horrible! And he was to blame. In the grips of adolescent rage, he’d told his father the truth. “I’m going to marry Giselle, and there is nothing you can do about it!”
He’d been so wrong. And her family had been punished.
That was the single most formative act of his childhood. In that one moment, he’d learned that defiance never truly hurt him. Others paid for his disobedience. And now here she was, a decade later, dressed as a woman who scrimped, and still speaking of ghosts.
He had to find a way to make it up to her. He could now that he had the title. He would make things right.
Soon.
After his headache eased.
Goodness, it did feel better to lean his head back against the maple tree.
Chapter Three
Giselle made ithome in the usual amount of time. Unfortunately, that meant she had plenty of time to remember every touch, every caress she had once shared with Jonathan. He had been her first love, and the lesson that had taught her to keep her family secret just that: a secret. Indeed, it had been a lesson for the entire family and surely the reason that every one of them remained unwed.
Her twin Gwenivere met her at the door, her green eyes alight with excitement. “Did you do it? Did you get Madame Ille to increase our pay?”
Giselle sighed. “No. She was—”
“I knew it!” she huffed. “I knew I should go instead of you. We cannot survive on what she pays us.”
“And she cannot convince her customers that father’s prayers are worth more than a few pennies.”
“So you say,” her twin huffed. “I say—”
“That we threaten to go to all the other apothecaries. I know. But wehavegone to them, and they will pay us less and only if we throw off Madame Ille. So it is an empty threat, isn’t it?”
Gwenivere pursed her lips. “She doesn’t know that.’
“But I do. And I—”
“Cannot be so bold as I am.” Gwennie flounced back into the chair by the window. “I know!”
