Holding Franny securely to his chest, he signed with the other hand. “Will you walk with me?”
There was the barest hesitation before she nodded. They strolled in silence for several minutes, and it did not feel as sublime as their previous strolls, which had hinted at so many mysteries to unlock between them. The air felt tight with tension and uncertainty.
“Phoebe, ahoy!”
The shout of Caroline had his wife spinning around and waving.
“I will see what Caroline wants,” she said with a quick smile that did not brighten her eyes.
As he watched his wife’s retreating figure, something painful lodged against his stomach, and the heart he thought untouched grew heavy with an indefinable emotion. The loss of how wonderful, carefree, and passionate she had been in the beginning tore through him with agonizing force.
Once there had been trust in her eyes and a sweet arousing fire of such hunger. A craving for that irrepressible smile and the improper way she would sometimes laugh and run without shoes tore through him. And by God, he longed to hold her close to him, to kiss her again, to play by the meadows…but he had given all that up, but this…this was the first time the loss of it almost brought him to his knees.
How hadn’t he realized the bitter cost?
…
A week later, Hugh rode his horse with speed along the lanes leading to his home. He needed to speak to Phoebe, even though he was not certain what he wanted to say. To distract himself with thoughts of her, he had taken on the menial task of mucking out the stalls of his stables, the workmen looking on with a sense of shock. Normally, he worked until his muscles burned and the sun had lowered in the sky. But today, it was barely noon, and he stopped. Thunder had rumbled in the distance with the threat of rain, and it had felt imperative that he return home.
The stablemaster’s wife had brought the man luncheon, a simple fare of potatoes and fish, but Henry hadn’t been able to stop smiling. The tender way he had taken her hand in his and led her to the side of the stable had dragged Hugh’s feet closer so he could observe them. Whatever they spoke about had delighted the wife, for she had swatted his hand and laughed before hugging her husband. Hugh had touched his arm, recalling a time when Phoebe would lightly punch him or how she would loop their hands together as they strolled by their meadow. His damn throat had burned, and to his shock, his eyes had smarted.
Henry had glanced up and seen him. The man had hurried over and said, “Forgive me, milord, the missus isnad feeling too well, and…and she foolishly believes she will be going onto her reward soon, so she visits me here at every opportunity. She dinna realize I ain’t ever letting her go. I’ll send her off right away, milord.”
“No,” he had signed. “Be with your wife.”
A light misting rain had begun to fall, and lightning forked against the sky. The stablemaster had walked away, paused for a long time, then turned to Hugh and said, “It ain’t my place milord, forgive me for overstepping, but I need to say it anyway. I dinna think the one tormenting yer thoughts so that a man of yer stature would muck horse-shite should ever be let go.”
Hugh had kept his face carefully composed and hadn’t made a reply. But one thought that had eclipsed all else had been, I’ve never planned on letting her go. Ever.
He slowed, bringing his horse to a stop in the forecourt of the mansion. Dismounting, he lowered the reins and hurried up the graveled pathway. What the hell had he truly accomplished by deciding to hold the old earl’s lessons close to his heart? He had avoided kissing Phoebe, because her lips were honeyed intoxication, and just a brief press of her mouth to his rendered him weak. Hugh could no longer bear to look at her when she played and sang to Franny. Whenever he saw his wife, her vision of loveliness would strike a weakening blow to his heart, and the polite civility he tried to cloak himself in would shake violently. He couldn’t spend the days at his house, for every detail of her, no matter how small, was imprinted on his mind. Hugh would visit his stables and spend the day with his horses, his thoughts tormented with his wife.
For fucking sakes. He was a damn fool. How long can I exist without your smile? Without feeling your lips on mine? How long can I bear you not looking into my eyes…how long can I bear your tears in the night and your unhappiness?
The butler held the door open, and Hugh handed over his coat and hat, tugging off his gloves as he walked down the hallway. He couldn’t go to Phoebe like this. He needed to take a bath and render himself presentable. Caroline paced along the hallway, a concentrated frown on her face. When she saw him, a heavy sigh of relief slipped from her, and she rushed toward him. He held up his hands because he was filthy with sweat, the scent of horses, grass, and whatever the hell he mucked from the stalls.
“Phoebe is not here,” she blurted.
He stopped. “I gather she is taking a walk with Franny. I will collect the umbrella and go to her. Though I believe she will take shelter at one of the gazebos.”
Caroline bit her lip, appearing distinctly uncomfortable. “She took the carriage and Franny. Her maidservant, Sarah, and Franny’s nursemaid accompanied her, along with a few valises and hatboxes.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I saw her reading a letter before…before she left.” His sister looked away, a flush on her face.
“What letter?”
“I did not mean to read it, but it was just there on the floor.” Then she dipped into her pocket and held it out to him.
Dear Phoebe,
I must confess how much I miss you. Your smiles and your laughter. I love you. I wish you to marry me…
Unable to read any more, Hugh looked at the date. This was a letter from George sent months ago, before that bounder had kidnapped her to London. Hugh crushed it in his fist. “This was a letter received months ago. This has nothing to do with Phoebe leaving now.”
He made to walk away and froze. What if? Hugh sucked in a harsh breath.
“What is it?” Caroline demanded.
“I just had a thought.”
“And that is?”
Hugh hesitated then finally signed. “He offers her everything I did not.” The words of George that night in the gardens echoed in his thoughts. Let me love you…give you a happy life. What if she had gone to the person who could offer her the desires in her heart? He shook his head and dismissed the thought immediately. She had honor, and her character was not inconstant. Yet he had disappointed and hurt her so much that she had left.
The agony that arrowed through Hugh’s heart was numbing. Merciful Christ. She had left without knowing…without knowing that he really did want her with every emotion in his heart. He rubbed the spot on his chest where he swore it physically ached. What if he could not convince Phoebe to come back? Fuck! His father had given up his pride and chased their mother to Edinburgh and begged her to return home. What if…