Page 128

“True, although it was the cottage that really convinced me,” he said.

“The cottage?”

“I figured if there was no rent to pay, there would be more money to send home,” he explained.

“Of course. You must love Mrs. Macalister very much.”

She expected his quick agreement. Instead, she was met with silence and the lift of the flask to his lips. He drank deeply and then dropped his hand to his knee.

“Duty,” he finally said.

“Duty?” she asked.

“I married Annabel because it was what Ma wanted. After losing the farm, I didn’t feel like I could say no.”

This time it was Macalister’s confession that hung out in the open, veiling the night in something that felt almost forbidden.

“Goodness,” she murmured.

“It was something she and Pa had spoken to the Mays about since Annabel and I were children. I think they wanted to merge the two farms. I never took it all that seriously until…”

“One day you did,” she finished for him.

“Felt as though I didn’t have much choice.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Do you?” he asked, doubt clear in his voice.

“When my parents moved from London to Pasadena, they told everyone it was for Papa’s health. It turns out Papa ruined us by speculating on a shipping line to South America that never existed.”

Macalister let out a low whistle.

“And that is how I found myself agreeing to become Mrs. Guy Whitley,” she finished.

“Do you ever think about if things had been different?” he asked.

She laughed. “If I hadn’t been called here to California? I used to, quite a lot.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“The truth is that if I had remained in London, I likely would still be unmarried and unquestionably on the shelf. An old maid.”

“I cannot imagine that,” he said.

“I assure you, it was looking disturbingly as though that was going to be my fate,” she said.

“But—”

She lifted her chin. “But what?”

“You’re beautiful.”

The words stunned her into stillness.

“And intelligent and curious,” he continued. “Are you telling me that there was no man in London who could see what was in front of him?”

“Apparently not,” she murmured.