“It’s pretty.” He reached out and stroked the fabric between his fingers. “Soft too.”
“I mixed cotton and wool to reduce the coarseness.”
Not knowing what else to say on the matter, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and let him escort her. They descended the stairs to the inn’s entryway and continued outside. The sun had dipped lower, affording a magical glow to the landscape. James breathed in the countryside air and drew Wilhelmina toward a path next to the inn. It led to a copse of trees and a narrow river.
They walked in silence until they reached the embankment where reeds and tall grass prevented them from getting too close to the flowing water.
“Do you fish?” Wilhelmina asked in a curious sort of way that suggested she’d tried to imagine him doing exactly that.
“On occasion. My father used to take me out on the lake behind our property when I was a boy. This would be an excellent spot for it, I should think.”
“George loved to fish,” she said, her voice soft with sentimentality, as though she were lost in the past. “He taught me after our fathers died. Helped get me through it.”
Unpleasant emotion filled him. It bothered him to think of her with her husband, huddled together as children, marveling over each catch they made.
As children…
James stared at the water and watched it ripple. She’d mentioned losing her father when she was ten. Our fathers. Mr. Lawson had travelled with a friend, but the identity of that friend had seemed irrelevant until now. “You and your husband grew up together. You lost your fathers at the same time.”
The disaster would have bound them together in ways few people could comprehend. Hell, not even James could grasp the close ties she would feel to the only person who’d shared her grief in equal measure.
Choosing to follow Michael’s advice, James quietly told her, “If you confide in me, I swear on my life I’ll never tell another soul or use the information against you.”
She hesitated, so long he feared she wouldn’t respond. When she finally did, her voice was softened by reminiscence. “I love him, James. I’ll always do so.”
Her words shook him. This wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear, and he hated the jealousy crashing through him because of it. He took a shuddering breath and tried to stay calm – to not speak in pain lest he hurt her. But it was hard. Her heart belonged to another, to a man who did not want her and this knowledge broke him.
He winced and closed his eyes for a moment, tried to concentrate on the ground beneath his feet and the gentle breeze tickling his face. Life was unbelievably unfair. Because against his better judgment, he’d fallen for her. And he’d been prepared to reconsider the ingrained beliefs he lived by so they could be together. Only she loved George. How bloody perfect.
“I owe him so much,” she added.
“Because he taught you to fish?’ James snapped, forgetting himself completely. Anger and heartache collided until he knew he was being unreasonable. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “You don’t owe him a damn thing, Mina. He used you in the worst possible way and left your life in shambles. Why the hell can’t you see that?”
“James, I—”
“Your husband ought to be drawn and quartered for what he did to your reputation. So help me God, I’d strangle him myself if he were here.”
“You’re wrong about him. George is a good person.”
Furious with himself for losing his grip, with George for convincing her to play along with the scheme he’d concocted to get himself out of the marriage, and with her for still caring about the bastard, James leaned into her with clenched jaws. “Stop. Defending him.”
Her eyes widened. She gave a quick shake of her head. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Have I?” Even though it felt like the bond they shared was unraveling, or possibly because of it, he needed to touch her. His hands settled heavily against her shoulders, holding her steady. “Then where is he now?”
She took a sharp breath and blinked back the tears he could see welling in her blue eyes. “In America.”
The man had well and truly abandoned her then. So much for the friendship she kept insisting upon. “Alone?”
“No.” When he didn’t budge or speak, she finally admitted, “George has remarried.”
Her confession and what it implied slammed into James with unrelenting force. Everything began making sense. She loved him and so she’d thrown herself on the proverbial pyre in order to save him from a marriage he’d clearly regretted. They’d been childhood friends, bound together by tragedy. They’d probably been fated to wed, but they’d been young and it hadn’t worked out as they’d hoped. So when George found someone else, a plan had been forged.
Unable to bear it, James crushed Wilhelmina to him and pressed his mouth to hers in a fierce kiss intended to blot out the last few minutes. He wanted to forget this conversation forever – the fact that she loved a man who not only didn’t deserve her, but who had cast her aside. It made him feel raw and helpless, for he stood no chance of making the scoundrel pay. Unless James followed him all the way to the God damn ends of the earth.
Bloody hell!
He tore himself away from her with a frustrated growl. Her breaths came just as harshly as his. As much as it hurt, he made himself step away and add distance, to ignore the imploring look in her still-damp eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Unable to find the right words – unwilling to try – he turned away and started back toward the inn without her. He’d been prepared to risk his career for her, to cut ties with anyone who’d not accept her, to live in seclusion if that was what was required for them to be together. He’d been one step away from considering marriage. Until she’d pledged herself to the husband who didn’t want her – who’d never wanted her, based on how little she knew about kissing and making love. She’d wasted her youth on that man and would keep on wasting her life. James set his jaw and continued to walk. He refused to stay and watch.
18
Wilhelmina couldn’t move. When James had offered assurance, she’d wanted to explain herself – to let him into her confidence so he’d understand her situation. But she’d muddled her words, started in the wrong place, and made things worse.
He’d drawn his own conclusions, had painted George as the villain and her as a fool. And when she’d tried to correct him, he’d no longer wanted to listen.
As shattered as she felt watching the man she loved walk away in anger, she knew it was probably for the best. Considering his values, the weight he placed on proper conduct, integrity, and respectability, she could never be more to him than a brief affair. Wilhelmina had to be mad to suppose he would ever consider a lasting attachment with her.
Expelling a heavy sigh, she started back toward the inn. She’d known life would be challenging for her after the divorce. The wretchedness she experienced now was as unsurprising as the regret that caused her heart to limp along with sluggish beats. Happily ever afters belonged to other people. She and James never stood a chance, because what it eventually came down to was that she’d been a married woman when they met. Only George’s death would have let her remarry while retaining her reputation.