She was deluding herself.
For it had been Ernest she’d wished to stay for – his smile and touch. His sapphire eyes and tender affections. No longer did she worry about his rakish reputation for she had come to know the real Ernest – the London mask shattered forever to reveal a man who’d stared at her with such…devotion.
But she needed time to reflect upon all that had happened here.
To think.
For although her own heart had knitted together, was perchance blossoming once more, it’d been left with rips and bruises and shadows. Could such a tattered affair bloom into vivid intensity again?
Pierced by the thorn of Tobias, perchance it was no longer capable…
She’d seen such flowers in her own garden: they grew, budded, and one waited by the window, expectant and elated… But the fruition never came, the bud shrank and then finally decayed, empty and worthless.
Unquestionably, Ernest deserved more – a beloved that could give him her whole flourishing, flawless heart, not one that had been stunted by a monster.
This castle, she thought, glancing up at its proud butter-hued walls, had placed her in a state of enchantment, suspended the truth, faded her nightmares, and deceived her that she was a…normal woman.
Yet one whispered word of love had left her heart cleaving and her wits clamouring, and she couldn’t think clearly here, within these bewitching walls, with Ernest at their centre.
For despite all her brave words and the sense of joy that had encased her in this place, when love came asking, she was still running down that shadowed corridor.
Still afraid of the dark.
ERNEST KNEWsomething was amiss as he approached the herb garden.
Typically, Hebe was akin to himself and never still. Either sketching or reading, admiring a painting or touching the scented leaves.
Yet she sat as motionless as a mausoleum angel – mournful and shaded as if lamenting a life that had ended. Her eyes were fixed to nowhere, hands immobile within her lap.
“May I sit, Hebe?”
“Oh.” And she blinked up. “Of course.” He noted her eyes were awash with moistness and panic sheathed him.
“Are you well?”
“Yes,” she declared, sounding anything but. “How did it fare with the magistrate?”
“Besides needing to find a competent one, good.” He sat. Close. But as he recounted his afternoon, she shifted little by little further along the bench.
“What will happen to Cripps?”
Ernest sighed. “For now, he’s under guard at The Bull in Burford.”
“Oh no. I thought…”
“It’s for his own protection until the gang are found. I worry for his safety. However, once the matter is settled – and with your permission, for it was you he frightened – I wish to give him a fresh start. The Chiltern Estate has a small stables under the care of an ex-army corporal. He’s a kindly older man and I think Cripps would do well with someone to learn from.” A new beginning for a cub who’d discovered that pretty faces could deceive and that words could be shallow.
Hebe smiled – a wan affair. “Of course. And that’s very generous of you.” Then looked likely to cry.
“Hebe, I–”
“And I ought to tell you,” she abruptly gushed, “that I won’t be… I don’t believe I’ll extend my stay at the castle. But that I might…as planned…return to London…soon. Possibly on the overmorrow. As I said, I have all the sketches I need for your brother’s hunter.” She rambled on, which Hebe never did, about her aunt not having enough clothes and some ridiculous nonsense about how they’d only cancelled the milk pails for so long.
He waited till she fell silent.
“Isn’t it strange,” he said, stretching his legs out, “how all one thought one knew about oneself can be flipped upon its head by something that happens. It may seem random or unconnected at the time but with hindsight, a certain destiny reveals itself.” He reached for her hand – stiff and cold as a sculpted stone angel’s. “And you happened, Hebe. To me. You filled my dreams with a different life, a life with you. To be a rake was never my true destiny and you have shown me that. I willingly turn my back on it. For you.” He kissed her fingers. “I love you, Hebe.”
She paled, if that were possible, yet more.
