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Roan lifted Louise cradle like and started for the house.
* * * * *
Maurice guided his horse through the hubbub of the busy town towards the main pike, southeast, which would take him to Brabant. He had always loved Bridgeton. Not today.
Today had not been a good visit.
Inside the inner pocket of his pale blue riding jacket, near his heart, were two tickets for passage on the Southampton, leaving for Cornwall in five days. He was wounded, deeply wounded. He had actually believed Heather might stay.
The feel of Heather’s body in his arms, beneath him, giving, taking…was vivid in his mind. The sensations she aroused in him making him feel as though he should betray her trust and tell her there wasn’t a passenger ship leaving for Cornwall for months. He could do that, but…no, he could not.
What a fool he had been to think his tender lovemaking had actually made her love him. Who was this Godwin that she could not give him up?
“Ah bah,” he told his horse. “I am nothing to her. Nothing. It is because I am naïve. I should have known she was giving me the only thing she could in her goodbye.”
She felt friendship, oui, she felt gratitude, of course, but nothing more.
He felt old and worn and totally devastated. How does one part with one’s life and yet go on living? Heather had become his life.
He was a fool to let her go.
He was a fool to give in to his own gentle nature and purchase her the means to leave. Damn, such a fool!
He thought about the day she would leave and go to the Englishman, this Godwin, the father of her child. Would this Godwin keep her safe this time? He had failed her before. What would Heather do if she returned and Godwin was a cad and rejected her?
Ah, impossible. No man would reject such as Heather. How could they?
Heather was his love and she would soon be lost to him. All hope was gone.
* * * * *
Across the Atlantic, at a place Godwin and Heather often met and called their Windmera, Godwin stood and stared out to sea. For no reason at all, he was sure Heather was alive. If she was alive, he would see her again. How could he not?
Heather had escaped the brothel, and surely she would find a way to return to him.
Was he just hoping against hope?
His friend put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Come along, Godwin.”
They both turned at that moment because of the sound of a pony’s hooves on hard ground and Godwin sighed. “It is Roderick.”
“The boy has been through a great deal,” Captain John said gently. “He needs you.”
“Aye, that he has, and didn’t deserve what he has suffered. He is the innocent in all this. He is a good lad,” Godwin said sadly.
Roderick jumped nimbly from his pony and hurried over. The boy looked up at Captain John. “Please, sir, could I speak with my…with his lordship for a moment?”
“That you can, lad, that you can. Maybe you can distract him from himself,” the captain said, and moved off.
Godwin looked at Roderick with affection. He loved the boy. All that had taken place had not diminished his feelings for him. Damn, but he had been neglectful at a time when Roderick needed him. He would have to change that. He gave the boy a warm smile and ruffled his black curly hair. “Son…what is it?”
Roderick eyed him and Godwin realized just how hurt the boy was and opened his arms wide, saying again so the lad would understand, “Son, my son.”
Roderick was in his arms and clinging with all his might.
Godwin sighed. What had he done? Roderick’s years had not equipped him to handle the flight, withdrawal of one parent and the coldness of a mother who never thought of any but herself.
“Please, sir.” Roderick suddenly began to cry, as tears slid down his smooth cheeks. “Please forgive us, come home.”
