Page 52 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

The innkeeper laughed. “You think the missus and I was always middle-aged? I tell you, sir, she led me a merry dance, and she’s done it ever since. But I wouldn’t have it another way.”

Hugo stared at the other man for a long moment, trying to order his disordered thoughts. Only one came to the forefront.

“I must go after her.”

“Don’t forget to pay your shot afore you go.”

With a growl, Hugo dug into his pocket and slapped the money onto the bar before whirling to charge back up the stairs. The letter—Penny’s letter—felt as though it weighed him down, slowing his steps as he reached the landing at the top.

For a brief, cowardly moment, he considered not opening the letter at all. After all, there was nothing she could say that would change his mind. They would marry, and he would resign his commission, and they would stay in England where he could make sure she would never come to any harm. Nothing she could write would change that.

He unlocked the door, sat on the edge of the bed, and unfolded the note.

Hugo, my beloved:

My dearest wish is that you will hate me for leaving and return to your first love with a whole heart. Our lives are too short to do anything but what makes us happy, and I know you would be very unhappy within a short time if I allowed you to make such a sacrifice for me. And I know, too, that continuing on the conventional path I have come to dread would make me no happier even with you as a substitute husband.

None of us is given to know how much time we have for our lives. It could be five weeks, or five months, or five years. Or fifty years. I want to spend that time with you, not apart from you, but I would rather spend it alone than with both of us unhappy. I hope you can understand.

I will never forget this Christmas, and never forget you.

All my love,

Penny

The paper crumpled before he realized his hand had clenched into a fist. This was utter folly on Penny’s part. She was acting rashly, like a child. He knew what was best for her.

But did he?

He said he had been willing to allow Penny to make her own decisions about her health, but now he realized how many limits he had put on those. If he did not trust her with her own health and her own understanding of her limitations, how could he truly say he loved her?

If he could not accept that Penny was a person with her own mind who would do as she thought best, then she was right. It would be better for them to separate and never see each other again than to be unhappily wed, each knowing the other had made an unwanted sacrifice simply for the sake of what was expected.

He must decide what was more terrifying: possibly losing Penny at some indistinct point in their future, or accepting he had lost her now, irrevocably.

Penny stared out the window of the stagecoach, seeing nothing of the snow-covered scenery passing by. They were nearly at Carlisle, and Hugo must have realized by now she was gone.

It was for the best. For everyone. Hugo could leave for his ship with a clear conscience, and she could begin her future as an old maid.

If she told herself that a thousand more times, she might start to believe it.

A shout from outside, and the coach began to slow. Jolted awake, the other passengers looked about and buzzed amongst themselves as Penny strained to see around the passenger next to her, stuck as she was in the middle seat.

She could hear men outside the coach, and the timbre of one voice made her heart skip a beat.

Hugo would not have come after her.

Would he?

The coach came to a halt and time seemed to drag as they all waited for the door to open. It could not be… but if it was…

The door was wrenched open and Hugo stuck his head inside. Even as she shrank back on the seat, he saw her and extended his hand to her. He looked as grim as she had ever seen him, and her heart shrank. With his face unshaven and hair wildly tangled from his ride, all he needed was a cutlass in his hand to resemble the pirate she had briefly wished he could be.

“Penny. Come here.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Captain Dalston,” she said icily. “You may continue on your way.”

“I must speak with you.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”