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“I was thinking . . .” She looked away, seeking for something to say to create a distance between them. To allow her to gather her thoughts and her breath before it was too late. She needed to steady herself, to consider what it would mean to her reputation, not to mention her heart, if she plunged into an affair with Ash after all this time.
“I think you have had many women since me, Ash. You don’t kiss like a man who has been chaste all these years. And,” when he opened his mouth to reply, “neither should you have been! I’m not suggesting it. I’m just pointing out that eight years have gone by. We have both changed, and I’m not sure what we’re trying to do here. Recapture the past?”
Perhaps he was grateful for her words and had himself been looking for an escape, because he stood up rather abruptly.
“You’re right,” he said, and straightened his clothing, as if he would remove her touch. “I was being foolish. Selfish, probably, I seem to be good at that.”
“Ash . . .”
“And you are right about the other women. Sometimes I think I turned to them because I wanted to find another you, but I never did. There was only ever one Juliet.” He was at the door, the sun shining on his golden hair. “I’m not sure what we’re doing here either. I wanted to say I was sorry and explain. I thought it was important.”
“It was important. Thank you.” She was near tears and she didn’t want him to see her cry.
“Now it’s my turn to say goodbye, Juliet,” he went on, his face against the light so that she couldn’t read his expression. He sounded calm and resigned. Maybe he even sounded relieved. “Thank you for meeting me. No doubt we will see each other about the village, and I know you will be glad to hear I will not embarrass you again.”
She opened her mouth to call him back, but he was gone, and anyway what else could she have said? Recapturing the past was just too painful, especially when she knew it couldn’t be done. All that was left to them now was to move forward with their lives and try to forget.
When Ash returned to the castle he wanted nothing more than to lock himself away in his office and lose himself in the business of the estate. Uncle George had become neglectful of late, through no fault of his own Ash was sure, but it left Ash with much to do.
He was surprised when his mother waylaid him at the door of her sitting room, calling him in to join her. He could see she had been writing invitations to their Midsummer celebrations, but she had put her pen aside and nodded for him to be seated beside her on the overstuffed sofa.
“Ashley, you would tell me if anything was bothering you?” she said, head tilted to one side, eyes so much like his.
“Apart from stealing my brother’s beloved and ruining his life?” he replied with gentle mockery.
She waved her hand as if this morning’s scene was forgotten already. “You explained yourself about that. You thought you were doing the right thing for Crevitch and the future.”
“I thought I needed to marry and the estate needed an heir,” he agreed cautiously. “Now I doubt that will happen. Simon will do the job. I have every faith in him to fill the castle with little Linholms, Mother.”
She smiled but she wasn’t deceived. She took his hand in hers and held it—another surprise because she rarely showed him such gestures of affection. “Something is the matter, Ash. Tell me. Please.”
He wasn’t going to tell her. He had no intention of revisiting his meeting with Juliet, and his sudden realization that he still loved her, and the shattering knowledge that it was too late.
He wasn’t going to unload all of his pain upon her, and yet somehow he began to speak, and soon he couldn’t seem to stop. The words poured out of him, all of the hurt and betrayal, all of the regrets. Things he’d thought long forgotten hadn’t been forgotten at all, just pushed into a corner, awaiting this moment.
When he was finished he felt drained, as if he could sleep for a year and still not want to wake. His mother patted his hand—he was clinging to her—and he noticed she had been crying.
“I will deal with this,” she told him. “Don’t worry. Last time I let your uncle take over and I have been sorry ever since, but this time I will see that all is done as it should be.”
He thanked her, although he wasn’t sure for what, and rose shakily to his feet. He didn’t believe her for a moment, because how could she change what had already happened? Ash went out, still thinking to go to his office, and then changed his mind and slowly climbed the stairs to his room.
Truscott was there, folding clothes, and was most surprised when his master flung himself across the bed and was instantly asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Summer, 1816, Montgomery House, Crevitch, Somerset
Juliet was trying hard not to think about Ash. It was over. They had kissed and then taken a deep breath and ended it. And still that restless feeling inside her was getting worse and now she was wondering why she was so reluctant to revisit what they once had. Surely loving a man, as she had loved him, was something special?
And if she was honest then it didn’t feel as if she was remembering something that happened long ago. This was now. Ash was here, and he had kissed her. She knew deep in her heart that she shouldn’t have sent him away, but she’d been afraid of her own feelings. Of being hurt again. Of ending up bitter and alone, like her father.
Today she had been glad of Doctor Knowles’ request that she go to the hospital, because the work there left no room for her tangled thoughts. When she arrived home she found Yvette waiting for her.
“Madam, there’s an invitation for you!”
Juliet found a smile as she took the envelope from the tray. “Thank you, Yvette. If it is Major Hardcastle again then I will decline. He is a very uncomfortable man to be alone with.”
Yvette gave her a knowing look, as if she could have handled Major Hardcastle. Yvette, thought Juliet, could have handled any man who made advances toward her. Her maid was a woman who knew what she wanted and would not be happy with second best.
