Page 12 of Holding Onto Love

“Thank you.”

He gave her a doubtful look, then said, “Keep me informed of any changes.”

“Changes? What changes?”

Could he think she would go back to Jasper? Did he think the letter was a request to come back? Oh, Lord. Was it? Could Jasper imagine she would return?

“Any changes. I’m still your solicitor, Vanessa. I have an obligation to my clients.”

“Yes, of course.” If he wanted her to believe that was all he meant, she would. “But you are aware that it is not good for me to be seen talking at length with a stranger.”

He glanced down the long, empty road to the Gowes’ cottage, then nodded.

“Goodbye then.” He sounded annoyed, having come all this way for such a poor welcome, but what did he expect her to do?

She watched him walk down the street until he looked very small. Then she went inside. She paused a moment to drink in the space. The white walls were scrubbed clean, devoid of ornamentation; no memories there. The parlor had a rag rug, but elsewhere the floors were bare wood, worn smooth. With the shutters open, a breeze swept through, and the home had a comforting scent of clean English air. She would be happy here. She would.

For this escape, she had saved, and Will had invested for her nearly every penny of her pin money, as well as the proceeds of the sale of a particularly lovely bracelet that Jasper had given her as an apology for an offense she no longer remembered. No one could say she had not been preparing all along.

She went all the way to the back, into her small kitchen. She pulled the letter from her waistband and laid it on the table in the middle of the room. Then she untied her apron and draped it over the back of a chair. She stared at the letter. If the stove had been lit, she would have fed it into the fire. But the stove was cold.

Jasper, why?

It had been two months since she had returned his last letter unopened. She supposed they had both had sufficient time to reflect. She had, in her heart, forgiven him for failing to tell her he intended to court Lady Georgiana. She understood his decision to do so had only been half-made when he rushed off to attend to his dying father. She recognized as well that it was time for him to find a suitable lady to wed. The truth was, prepared though she may have been, she hadn’t been ready.

What could he have written?

He was thinking of her still. That shouldn’t please her, but it did, since she thought of him constantly. How could she not? They had been lovers for four years. Three years longer than she had been married to Henry, and she still thought of him often.

Of course, she had known Henry her whole life. And it was a different kind of knowing once they were wed—she could never forget that. She had been surprised by the act of love. Surprised that she could share such sweetly intimate joys with someone as awkward and familiar to her as Henry. Maybe if he had lived, that would have been enough.

Lord Taverston had been neither awkward nor familiar. They were strangers, thrust together by circumstance, both caught off guard by what happened between them. She could not have anticipated her body’s capacity for pleasure so intense. Or that over the course of four years, she would grow to love him with a strength even greater than their passion.

Vanessa swallowed a sob.

And now he wanted to pay her off. Clear his conscience. That was surely what the letter was about. Will had implied as much, hadn’t he?

Or was he writing to inform her of his betrothal?

She picked up the letter. She should not read it. He must know that she would not respond. Nevertheless, she broke the seal.

I love you. Always. C J.T.

She traced her fingers over the letters.

Oh, Jasper. Why?

He’d had four years to say the words and had been very careful not to.

She shoved the letter into the cold stove. She would burn it later.

Part 2

This is an Arrangement

Late February 1809

London