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“Haven’t you punished yourself enough?” Lila asked, her voice softer. “Can’t you give yourself another chance? Because you have a chance fortruehappiness. She loves you, Joshua.”
Love?The room shifted even more.The abbey. Thatwas her hope, not him. He had to fix it; he had to get the abbey back for her. What was he doing, standing there?
“What did you say?” Miles asked.
“Princess Amelia loves him,” Lila said.
“She said those words?” Miles asked, his voice full of reasonable disbelief.
“In so many words, yes. Don’t look so skeptical, my lord. I know these things. She’s told me he is the only man she will consider.”
Miles’s jaw dropped. Joshua’s heart was beating hard. Of course he knew Amelia esteemed him, but...love? He felt as if he could shatter into pieces. He loved her, too. Of course he did.
“Joshua—don’t be a fool, man,” Miles said.
He needed to breathe. To hit something. He needed to get an abbey back. He tossed the towel aside and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Lila cried. “Don’t walk out, please! If you let her go, you’ll regret it all your life.”
“I can’t talk now, Lila. There is something I must do right away.”
“She’s leaving!”
He stopped, midstride, and looked back at Lila. “London?”
Lila shook her head. “Wesloria.She’s going home, unless you stop her.”
His gut felt caught in a vice. Joshua turned and walked out. He had to think what to do, and he couldn’t do it with an audience.
He had finally succeeded in turning everyone away, just like he’d wanted. Even his dogs preferred Miles to him now. He was free to wander the earth, to continue his deserved isolation.
So why, then, did it hurt so much?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THEREWASSTILLno letter.
Three days had passed without a response. Three days! Had the old crone died? Had she lost patience with the correspondence? Had she moved, taken ill, run out of paper, started sleeping at night? What possibly could have happened to make her suddenly silent?
Amelia paced the small school office. She held one hand against her waist, the other pressed to her forehead as she walked four steps one way, four steps back, over and over again, trying to think.
She’d been irrationally angry the first two days when no letters had arrived. Who did the old crone think she was? But today, she was worried for her friend.
She turned sharply and accidentally knocked over a stack of books. She stooped down to restack them. This pacing was pointless—she’d been at it all day, hiding in this little office, nursing her wounds, thinking of Joshua, hoping for guidance.
Maybe the time had come to admit that an anonymous old crone was not going to solve her problems. Maybe it was time to take matters into her own hands. She’d never had trouble speaking her mind before—why did it suddenly seem so daunting? What was wrong with declaring her feelings to Joshua? What was the worst that could happen?
Well, obviously, the worst was too horrible to even contemplate.
Amelia grabbed her shawl. She stepped out of the office, waved at Mr. Roberts, and went out the door into the sunshine. She paused to draw in a deep breath.Courage.It was as if her father had whispered it to her from the beyond. He used to whisper that word to her and Justine before they’d walk into receiving rooms or stand on balconies before thousands of people.Courage.
She began the walk to Iddesleigh.
She pondered how she would make her declaration. Should she send a note to Hollyfield, requesting an audience?I must speak with you straight away.Or should she take the more direct route and knock on his door? She’d never in her life walked up to a door and knocked. Her arrivals were generally prearranged and announced. Furthermore, she understood it was frowned upon for unmarried women to go knocking willy-nilly on unmarried men’s doors. But she often did things that were frowned upon, and really, what did she have to lose? She’d be bound for Wesloria soon enough, no matter his response.
All right—if she were to knock on his door, what would she say?
Good afternoon. My feelings for you have grown.
