“Forgive me.”
She blinked, attempting to adjust to the sudden change. His voice was gruff, and he did not look at her. “Please remain here while I collect your father’s cane.”
Amy’s knees were weak, and her head was empty of all coherent thought. She stumbled to lean against a tree trunk on the side of the path and tried to make sense of what had happened. It took James time to collect the item, and in those moments she was incapable of doing more than forcing her heart to beat at its normal rhythm. When he returned, he held out his arm, and this time she put her hand on it. They were near the end of the trail, and they continued on toward the opening at the bottom in silence. When it seemed necessary to speak through the awkwardness that had enveloped them, Amy attempted an air of normalcy.
“My father has said that Mr. Hughes’s prescription does not seem to be working.”
“Mr. Hughes only believes in the value of drinking the water. But for rheumatic complaints, it is necessary to bathe in it to receive any benefits.” James’s voice sounded clipped to her ears. He did not offer his services to help her father.
“Ah.”
His tone had not encouraged her to pursue any other line of conversation. At a different moment, she might have asked him if he would visit her father and convince him of the idea, but as it was, tears hovered on the edge of her vision. She needed to make it safely to her rooms, where she could sort through her feelings away from scrutiny.
The Promenade opened up in front of them, and a few people were walking on it. Amy slipped her hand from James’s arm as he wordlessly handed her the cane.
“I will see you to your hotel,” he said.
Instead of having the quiet walk in the woods she had longed for to restore her mind, she now had even more emotions to make sense of. She shook her head.
“I will be fine on my own. Thank you for your company.” Amy saw the hesitation on his face and wondered if it was because she refused his escort or because he was as overset by their embrace as she was. She only knew that if she spent another second in his company, she might break into fragments like brittle glass.
Chapter 18
After parting ways with Amy, James could still feel the texture of her gown under his fingers. He could see her face inches from his, her frozen stare underneath those long lashes, her lips parted in surprise. The anticipation ... It had taken everything in him to pull her upright and not give in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her. It didn’t matter that in that moment a kiss had felt like the most natural thing in the world to do—or that the way his heart pounded in his chest almost demanded he give in to it. He had not broken things off with Isabel and therefore was not free to pursue another woman. Not even a woman who felt like the only one who truly belonged in his arms.
He had bid Amy farewell since she clearly wished for it and continued on to his rooms. The thatched roofs and partially paved streets looked the same, the merchants hauling livestock and vegetables looked the same, but his world had turned upside down. He had finally been able to ask Amy what he had long wanted to know and understood why she had ended their relationship with such finality before he left. In his youthful inexperience, he had been impatient with her and had not given her the time she needed to make the right decision—to give them a chance. Theexchange of confidences they had just shared caused his heart to twine more deeply with hers.
However, he could not tell her that he planned to speak with Mr. Prexley about breaking the betrothal contract. To have kissed Amy when this was not yetfait accompliwould have been an outrageous, infamous act. It was a mercy he had not given in to the overpowering impulse.
He reached his rooms and changed out of his muddy stockings and breeches, wasting no time in donning something more appropriate for his visit to Mr. Prexley. Even if he was no longer in possession of the offending letter, surely Mr. Prexley would understand his reason for ending the contract and accede to his request. As a gentleman, he must take James’s word for proof of infidelity and would do so. This left James to grapple again with the unpleasant reflection that he no longer had any reliable income, since he would surely lose all of Mr. Prexley’s patients. But James had become wise in one thing, at least: No good marriage could be built on purely mercenary reasons.
Within the hour, he presented himself at Mr. Prexley’s doorstep, hoping that he would not encounter Isabel again so soon. With their betrothal already void of finer feelings, let them end the contract without sentiment and between gentlemen. The servant admitted him into the house, which had a spacious corridor with paintings lining the wall but lacked natural light once the door was shut behind him. He presented his card, and the servant carried it in, returning within minutes.
“Mr. Prexley will see you now.”
He led James to the library, where the physician was seated. There were two glasses on the table and an unopened bottle of Bordeaux. Mr. Prexley stood and offered him a cordial smile.
“Come in, Fletcher. I can only assume this is about accompanying me to visit my patients. I must apologize for the delay in beginning our partnership. My patients have been loath to see me end my practice and are attempting to convince me tocontinue on a while longer. I did not deem it an auspicious time to introduce you.”
James bowed. This was the last thing on his mind, and the reminder of his dependence only increased his agitation.
“Indeed, Mr. Prexley, it is not about that.” He wondered what would have happened to him if he were bent on marrying Isabel and had been counting on that income to support her. It did not sound as though Mr. Prexley were truly ready to retire.
The physician gestured to the armchairs as the servant uncorked the wine and poured it before leaving. James sat and looked around him. The library walls were painted in light gold, which set off the dark book spines with gilded letters, and the quiet was interrupted by the crackling fire. It was a peaceful room and a dreadful topic to bring up.
“This morning I was given evidence of your daughter’s...” He paused, suddenly unable to think of what to say next. In everything, he had not considered how awkward it would be to bring up the matter of a lady’s infidelity to her father. Nevertheless, he plunged on. “It was brought to my attention that your daughter had received a letter from another gentleman who addressed her in intimate terms, showing an enduring attachment and appointing a time and place of rendezvous.”
He wondered if he should elaborate but decided against it. “As a result, I think it wise to end our betrothal, for I fear Miss Prexley’s heart belongs to someone else.” There! It was accomplished. He found it difficult to fill his lungs with air.
Mr. Prexley’s congenial expression left him, replaced by a hard look in his eyes. “You have made quite an aspersion on my daughter’s character.”
James shifted uncomfortably, but he would not back down, not even before the man’s glittering stare. “Perhaps I have, but not without good reason. I saw the letter myself.”
“And where is this letter, so thatImight see the proof?” Mr.Prexley asked. “You might easily be able to believe such a thing of my Isabel, but I cannot.”
James closed his eyes briefly. He had hoped it would not come to this. That had been naive. “When I confronted your daughter about the matter, she took the letter from me and did not return it.”
Mr. Prexley raised an eyebrow that spoke its own heavy irony. “Are you not stronger than she? Were I in your shoes and desirous of ending a betrothal that was no longer palatable to me, I would have made certain I remained in possession of the proof.”
