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“One who’s bred to be a baronet’s wife,” Ina said.
“My darling,” said Moira with a smile, “Sir Gavin isn’t even a peer. It isn’t as though he’s a duke who must marry a woman whom fourteen different branches of his family approve of. And besides, that man loves you.”
It felt as though a giant had wrapped his arms around Ina and was squeezing all of the air out of her lungs. She’d struggled in vain over the last weeks to forget about her husband. Forget about all that had happened—as though she ever could. Now Moira wanted to drag all of it back up.
“He doesn’t love me,” Ina whispered. “Not anymore.”
Moira let go of her and planted a hand on either hip. “I’ve seen many forms of love, my dear, and I can tell you that a man as stricken as your husband doesn’t fall out of love that quickly. He loves deeply and forever.”
“But I left him.”
“And do you still love him?” the matchmaker asked.
“Yes,” Ina murmured.
“Then you’ll have to fight for him even if it means risking a broken heart,” said Moira. “Do you think you can do that?”
“It’s already broken. I don’t think it can hurt anymore.”
“Good,” said Moira with a smile. “Now, to wage a war for love, you’ll need to call in all the help you can get. Are you acquainted with Mr. Moray?”
“I am.”
“Then prepare your sketch pad, for here’s what we’ll do.”
Gavin hunched over his desk in his study, worrying over the account books.
He hated this. That was the truth. He hated what had seemingly come so easily to Richard and his father, and it no longer pained him to admit that. He’d rather be writing.
Moray had been remarkably understanding about his altered situation, asking him only to let him know when he would return to Edinburgh. Therefore, the only writing he’d done had been of endless letters to solicitors and other men of fortune with whom he wished to do business. It was becoming soul-crushing, and the longer he stayed here, the more he feared he’d lose himself in the estate.
At least so long as there were accounts and decisions to be made with Chase, he could stay busy. That was the only thing that had kept him from jumping on a train and heading straight back to Edinburgh after Ina. Well, that and a considerable dose of pride.
Her leaving still hurt with a power he hadn’t expected, but now it mingled with his own guilt. He’d driven her away in a cloud of his own anger and frustration. He’d waited for seven years to finally earn her affection. Couldn’t he have waited just a little bit longer?
But what if she never came to love him?
The truth was, he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her any more than he could stand the idea of a lifetime pining for her under the same roof.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease a tension headache that threatened. Just another hour burying himself under these damned ledgers and then he could retire to his room with a brandy.
He was just dipping his pen into his inkpot when he heard the soft pad of women’s slippers on the carpet of his study. He expected it to be Mrs. Riley, but instead it was Grace.
A long time ago, her appearing before him in a quiet room would’ve been a dream. When he was just eighteen and freshly returned from school, he’d lived and died by her whims. A stolen kiss on the cheek could send him heavenward just as a perceived slight could shatter his confidence. She’d controlled him with the wave of her little finger, for he was too lovesick to think clearly. How that had changed.
“Hello,” he said, putting his pen down and rising.
“No, please don’t get up,” she said hurriedly.
He settled back in his chair. “Is there something I can help with?”
She handed a letter across the desk to him. “A letter came for you in the second post. It’s from Edinburgh. I thought you might wish to see it immediately.”
His heart skipped a beat when he turned the envelope over, but instead of Ina’s delicate, looping writing, it was Moray’s speedy scrawl.
“Thank you,” he said, setting it aside. He’d look at it after he was done with his work. His friend’s lively gossip about the newspapers, Eva, and all of their acquaintances would provide welcome respite.
When he glanced up, Grace was still standing before him, hands twisting.
