A wave of grief washed over him with such force that he almost howled.I killed my friend.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant it. The risk should only have been his own. Yet Foster lay dead, all that he was, the fun, loyal friend of years, erased from the world, leaving his family—whom Durward knew—to mourn, along with all the other friends Durward had deprived in one unforgivable moment of temper and over-confidence.
It had been bound to happen sooner or later. And yet what hit him even more powerfully than guilt, was that he would never see Foster again.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing his anguish was the least of this tragedy. Staring at the unopened letter, even burning it so that he never had to read it, wouldn’t change the reality.
He snatched it up and broke the seal.
Greetings, Durward!
Good news I thought you would appreciate. Foster lives and has been sitting up in bed talking. The doctors are refusing to pronounce him out of danger yet, but there is definitely cause for hope. And we know what a stubborn devil he can be.
No idea if you’re still in Harwich or sailed but I shall keep sending updates to the Lion until I hear otherwise. Spoke to your sister yesterday, and she and Baldeston are, like me, en route to the Hawthorns’ party. She hopes you will join us there.
Servant in a hurry,
Calton
“He lives,” Durward whispered.
“Beg your pardon, sir?” said the innkeeper’s wife, plonking a huge plateful before him. “Is something wrong?”
Durward blinked at her and swallowed. A smile seemed to rise up from his toes, unstoppable and joyous. He beamed at her. “Absolutely not. It is a wonderful, glorious day.”And I shall waste none of it. Ever again.
CARINA’S MORNING ALSObegan well. It was the first time Papa had left for work without Durward taking him, and he seemed rather pleased with the novelty. It was a pleasure to wave him off in good humour and not be living on tenterhooks for the rest of the day.
There had been no further summonses from Mansel Manor, which was a relief to Carina, especially now that Papa was earning again. There was food in the larder, and the savings were making a gradual recovery. All was right with the world, especially when Papa sent hasty word at midday that he had run into Durward and was bringing him home for supper, probably about seven.
She sang to herself and she cleaned and shopped and cooked. All was right with her world for another day. She could ignorethe knowledge that it would not last forever, that any kind of happy ending with Durward was impossible for her. She lived in the moment and was happy.
They arrived together shortly after seven and at once she saw the change in the viscount. She couldn’t pin down exactly what it was, but it was as if some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“You have received good news?” she asked, as they sat down to the first course of soup and fresh bread.
He smiled at her, and her heart skittered in its usual, foolish way. “The best. Foster, the man I shot in a duel, seems likely not to die after all.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Nothing is certain,” he warned, though she had the impression he spoke to himself here rather than to her or Papa, “but there is hope now, and I need not escape the country just yet.”
Could this day get any better? “I am so glad,” she said fervently. “For you as well as for him and his family.”
Papa nodded portentously. “You have been given a second chance, Travis. You must make the most of it.”
As Papa himself was doing.
“I intend to,” Durward said. “With the urgency lifted, there are matters I need to sort out away from Harwich. Family matters, business matters.”
Without warning, the bloom of her happiness wilted. “You are going away.”
He met her gaze, his eyes intense and lit with excitement.
But not for me. For leaving...
“For a little,” he said evenly. “I must get my life in order.”
Of course he must. Even Papa, nodding sagely over his soup, acknowledged that. And Carina was pleased, truly she was, or would be once the silly disappointment had passed. More thananything, she wanted the blackness gone from his eyes, from his outlook. She wanted him to be happy. Was it selfish to wish to be part of that? When she had always known she could not be...
