“If ye don’t marry, will ye live alone?
She looked over her shoulder as if startled by his question and slowed her horse to match his pace. “I’m not sure. I’d thought of going to Hampshire with my Aunt Margaret, but she’s not keen on the idea.”
“Aunt Margaret?” He chuckled. “Is your liver up to that sort of strain?”
She hummed and bobbed her head as though giving the inquiry serious consideration. “I can work my way up to it. No one is sure exactly how old she is, ninety at least, yet she drinks like she’s a first year at Oxford. My father remarked once she’s consumed so much sherry that she’s embalmed herself.”
A laugh burst from his chest, and her head whipped to look at him. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips.
He sobered quickly. “Will that make ye happy? Being companion to an old woman?”
She shrugged, somehow making the motion graceful. “It’s preferable to playing wife to a terrible man.”
They rode on for a while longer in thoughtful silence. Ash trees lined the trail, their ancient branches winding like limbs towardsthe sky as tender green buds clung to the ends. The ground was thick with white snowdrops, and redwings darted from branch to branch, collecting brilliant red berries as though hoarding the last remnants of winter. He inhaled the crisp air and wondered if he could stay like this, in a quiet place and surrounded by nature. Nature and Violet.
“What will you do after this?” she asked. “Back to Edinburgh?”
“No, Central America.” Her lips parted in surprise, and the need to justify his decision to her felt urgent. “They’re building a canal there, and with Valebrook’s investment, Taggart Maritime will be the only company in the world with the type of hydraulic trench digger that can handle the task.”
“My goodness.” Her voice was appropriately breathy, and he allowed himself a moment of pride, anticipating the relief he would feel when the canal was completed, his bank accounts bursting. “Will James go with you?”
“No, he’ll stay in Scotland.”
“But it’s his company.”
“And my invention.”And my responsibility.He kept his eyes trained on the path in front of him. Everyone seemed determined to undermine his plans, to poke holes in them until reason sifted through the resulting sieve. “There’s incredible money to be made, but only if someone is available to make repairs on site. It has to be me.”
The trees gave way to a wide plain of daffodils undulating in the wind. A collapsed stone wall split the expanse of yellow, and puffs of sheep gathered along a low stream.
She was silent for a long time, and he wondered if she’d let the matter drop. He was mistaken.
“I’m sure you know it’s dangerous.”
“Of course I do.” It’s all anyone reminded him about.
She nodded once, a gesture that in no way conferred agreement or understanding, let alone acceptance. Her voice was low, wistful when she spoke again. “You’ll be missed.”
He hadn’t expected that, and her words sliced a piece out of his chest. He tried to stifle his grimace, but, of course, she missed nothing.
“Do you regret telling me about Ewan?”
“Why do ye ask?”
“Because you look grumpy again.”
He attempted to soften his features, but he wouldn’t smile. Nor would he answer the question. “Do ye regret telling me about that shite Townsend?”
She giggled, and he felt a jolt of pride for making her happy. “Not now that I’ve heard you call him ‘That Shite Townsend.’ They should announce him that way at balls.”
“Then I dinnae regret telling ye about Ewan.”
“Good.”
“What about the other one, the old fiancé? Is he a shite as well?”
Violet’s spine straightened, then she brought her horse to a halt, dismounting into the field of daffodils with ease. Callum’s dismount was far less graceful, resulting in his nearly going arse-over-tits. She was kind enough to ignore it.
“I wouldn’t call Hugh a—ashite. He couldn’t help falling in love with someone else.”
