“Of all the bloody stupi–”
She placed a hand to his lips. “The doctors did what they thought best, and I cannot blame my relatives for that, but… The doctors…they persuaded them that my condition…my hysteria, my madness, as they called it, could be better dealt with… Where for a short while at least, they could…” Her voice lowered. “Study it.”
Miles shook his head. “Oh, no.” And again. “No, Verity. Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me, they sent you to a…a…”
Her lips trembled. “An asylum? For the insane? Why, yes, they did.”
24
THE LONGEST DAY HAS AN END
Verity closed her eyes.
Unsure how her truth of the past would be received.
He said not a word; the silence drew taut.
Then all at once the bed bounced with abrupt force.
Verity snapped her eyes open and gawped as in no more than a handful of strides, he’d crossed the room, flung open the door and vanished into the hall. The door slammed behind him.
So…this was it. The consequences of that truth.
He’d left.
Could now see why there was no future for them.
A gruff rumble permeated from behind the door, followed by the distinctive march of boot on floorboard. An enormous thud struck the wall before there came the unmistakeable smash of something fragile.
That was no cat.
Was he–
The door handle turned and Miles stepped inside once more.
His hair was disordered, cravat skewwhiff, a flush high upon his cheekbones, his knuckles a tad…raw, and when his eyes met hers…they boiled with such anger, jaw locked tight as an oyster.
“Miles?”
“Sorry about that, Verity,” he growled. “And I’ll pay for the mirror.”
Gracious…
With a deep breath, he took to marching the rug. “My men in the regiment used to say I was the sole officer without a temper, that I could always be relied upon for my calmness, so I apologise again, but…” He swallowed. “What the bloody hell were your relatives thinking? Your father had just been murdered. You needed time and care.”
“They thought the doctors knew best and I…I could not disagree. My life no longer felt my own…this uncontrollable…thing in charge of me. I was persuaded as well. And as it turned out, I was not there too long.”
“It matters not. You were seventeen, Verity. An innocent seventeen at that.” He flung his head back. “Did you know you were being sent there? That last time we met in the orchard.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I slept not a wink the night before. Tormented as to whether to tell you. But…but maybe they were right. Maybe I was now mad. Maybe you would think I was mad. Maybe…I needed to be there.”
“Nev–”
“I felt numb. I was scared of telling you. Scared of going. Scared ofme. How long would I be there for – perhaps months but perhaps forever – and how would that have affected you? I could not ask that of you. Not only was I unable to travel as we’d dreamed of but you could not be obliged to some madwoman that you’d only known for the summer.”
His head dropped and she sensed some of the fury drain from him.
“How long…” he whispered. “How long were you there for?”
