Page 53 of The Governess and the Rogue

“His family, perhaps,” Bea suggested, though none of the men bore any resemblance to each other.

“Not his family. His attorney. A friend of his, I gather, along with the other fellow.” Jack gave a satisfied nod. “They’ll look after him.”

“You sound relieved.”

“I am,” he said. “It’s tedious feeling responsible for everyone. I’ve had the devil of a time shedding the impulse after leaving the army.” His eyes glinted with a flash of humor. “For a while there, I feared I’d have to issue the man an invitation to join my family in Somerset. They wouldn’t have thanked me for it, nor would Thornhill. Thank heaven he has people of his own.”

Bea’s eyes fell to her hands. It seemed that everyone had a home to return to, and friends and family to meet. Even someone as cross and curmudgeonly as Captain Thornhill.

It made her predicament that much lonelier.

She smoothed her gloves with restless fingers as the last of the steamship passengers hurried by. Time was ticking past more rapidly than she wished it to, bringing the two of them ever closer to their inevitable goodbyes.

There was no point pretending it was otherwise.

Lifting her chin, Bea forced her gaze back to his. “Is this where we have our amicable breakup?”

Jack gave her a puzzled frown. “Here on the docks?”

“We can’t very well have it in a hotel room,” she said. “Indeed, I don’t think you should accompany me to the hotel at all.”

“You’d prefer a separate carriage?” His brow furrowed. “I suppose it makes sense. Though I can’t be at ease until I see that your lodgings are respectable.”

“I’m the best judge of that. I’ve been managing my own affairs for a long while now. And it wouldn’t do for us to show up together at a hotel, even in separate carriages. I can’t afford any talk.”

His mouth quirked. “You’re not going to be difficult, are you?”

“I’m not being difficult. I’m being realistic. We had a plan and we must stick to it, for both of our sakes.”

“I mean to. But even you must admit that things haven’t gone exactly as we intended.”

Bea folded her arms, thinking of the shawl he’d given her. Thinking of their kiss, and all the small moments that had followed in its aftermath. The way he readily took her hand. The way he’d put his arm around her as she’d slept against his shoulder on the overnight train to Calais.

She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The amused expression in his eyes softened. “Don’t you, Bea?”

“Unless you’re referencing what happened that night on the deck⁠—”

“Among other things.”

Her stomach quivered with the threat of butterflies. She ignored the tremulous sensation as best she could. “That was days ago.”

“Five days, to be precise. I don’t take it lightly.”

“Nor do I. Which is nothing to the point. Unless…”

His attention sharpened. “Unless what?”

Bea summoned her courage. If this was the last time she was to see him, she may as well leave all her cards on the table. She’d never get another chance. She took a deep breath. “Unless you mean to make your proposal in earnest,” she said.

Jack froze, staring at her. The color drained from his face, leaving him peculiarly pale beneath his tan.

It was answer enough.

The unspoken rejection travelled through her, putting an end to her butterflies and her blushes. There were no more flutterings, no more warmth, only a growing coldness at her core.

This, then, was reality. The way Jack truly felt about her. She wasn’t entirely surprised by it. Even so…