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Roman had always felt powerless against such feminine delicacy. He brushed his thumb across her check but that didn’t stop the stream from falling. “What can I do for you, Shelene?”
“Nothing. Death is a part of life.” She sniffed and pulled a linen cloth from her sleeve. She dabbed it against her cheeks.
“Stay here in London until I return. My family would be happy to have you at Long Leaf. I don’t want you to be alone through this. And I don’t want you to go back to Spain. Not yet.”
“I will always be alone, Roman.” She took a deep breath. “TíaAna-María is expecting me in two months. It is best I am with my family. What is left of it. When will you leave for France?”
“Within the week. The War Office will have information about theVictorious’route—where it docked and when, its mission.” And since it was likely Roman would be traveling to lands with independence in mind, he would also check with Bathurst about any assignments. One never knew when one would discover possible impediments to British interests. And Spanish colonialism in South America was of great interest to Britain.
“You are always suspicious, aren’t you? Surely England’s enemies are not so great that they also control the weather?”
He laughed. “I’m paid to be suspicious, as you well know.”
“I could pay you. Buy your fealty. I would be a much kinder lady than England. I would not require your life in exchange for your loyalty.”
England had always been the impediment to a lifetime with his beautiful Spanish girl.
“You will always have my loyalty. You and your family,” he said.
Shelene stood; Roman jumped up as well. He braced his arms behind his back and stared as she walked to the window again. It was right that he had stayed away. More extensive pain would have been the result if they had reunited. He was no more able to bear a failed attachment than she.
“It can’t be true, can it? Do you think Papa is really dead?” She traced an invisible pattern on the window glass.
Silence was often the best truth.
“Say something. You are not answering an inquiry from the Crown,” she said. She still stared out the window. He had never seen her defeated, but the slump of her shoulders and the slight downturn of her mouth, he knew she stood at the precipice of despair.
“You know I can’t answer.”
“And you wouldn’t dream of giving me false hope. At least not intentionally.”
“It is the best to be honest.” He tried to smile with some assurance.
“I hate this place. How can you stand it here with all the rain and fog and stink?” She was so near the window, her nose almost touched the pane. Her breath made a small circle of fog. The day was overcast, and outside there was a slight stench that blew off the Thames. It made no difference to him. He dwelt in the low places where smells and darkness had a way of hiding his intentions.
Shelene did not belong in this setting. She needed sunshine and wide-open plains.
Roman walked toward her, standing behind her but not touching. Never touching.
The scent of her hair, gardenias, reminded him of Spain. The garden at the Hightower home had been cultivated by their Berber servants and the exotic grounds were another reminder of the peaceful life he would never have. Gardenias, jasmine, roses, and in the center of it all, Shelene.
But he had made sure Shelene would keep the life to which she was accustomed.
“It’s tolerable,” he said, inhaling another lungful of scented air.
“I would leave tomorrow, if I could.” She turned suddenly and placed one hand on his chest, over his heart. “But I would stay for you.”
“I know. I’ve always known. But I can’t give you what you want.” Safety and protection, yes. He or his family would always be there, if she needed him. But he wasn’t going to break her heart again. There would be no promises he couldn’t fulfill. No words that she could use against him.
He’d chosen duty to country as his mistress. His lover. His partner.
She fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. “England won’t keep you warm at night. England will never offer you comfort. Or love.”
Shelene understood him completely, including his need to serve. That revelation had freed her from a lifetime of heartache. That revelation had eternally separated them. She’d been able to sayno.
* * * * *
Shelene had just been thinking of him when, like a phantom, he’d appeared on his aged horse, riding like a dark knight into her most cherished dreams. No matter his attire, his trousers and jackets were the same color—today a somber black with military-style brass buttons. The rain droplets on his shoulders quickly disappeared into the fabric.
