Page 29 of Forget Me Not

“For one who is always in pursuit of the next grand adventure,” she said, “you describe your home of eight years as a place that offers no excitement whatsoever.”

He tossed out a crooked smile. “Why do you think I travel so much?”

Her head tipped to the side. She was studying him. “I thought you traveled because you liked the adventure of it.”

“After James died, I promised myself I would live life to its fullest. So that’s what I’ve done. I’ve seen the kingdom and the world. I’ve climbed mountains, bathed in the Mediterranean, learned new languages, met vastly different and interesting people. That’s why I’ve traveled and why I’ll keep traveling. There’s a whole world out there, Julia. I don’t intend to miss any of it.”

Her gaze moved to the carriage window. “I had wondered. Your reasons make sense though.”

It was, perhaps, not the most personal of conversations, but at least they were speaking to each other. That had hardly happened since his return to England. “What of you, sweeting? What do you like to do?”

She pulled off her gloves as she answered. “I like to read and to study. I enjoy learning new things.” She set her gloves on the bench next to her. “You probably think that terribly dull.”

“I like to read,” he said. “And I enjoyed my time at Cambridge, learning and expanding my mind. In fact, I spend most of my winters at Brier Hill, and I’ve made certain the library—while smaller than the collections at Lampton Park and Farland Meadows—has books on every topic imaginable.”

“You have a lot of books?” Her interest had clearly been piqued. Her eyes even lit a little.

“You’ll have plenty to pore over,” he said. “And during the colder months, I’ll likely join you, assuming you don’t have any objections.”

“Idon’t. But I suspect you’ll be ready to run, quite literally, out the door the moment the weather permits.”

“Perhaps by then you’ll be ready to as well. Run. Skip. Leap for joy at your escape.”

She shook her head. “I don’t skip, Lucas.”

“You used to.”

Julia rested her head and shoulder against the carriage wall, her eyes firmly affixed on the passing scenery. “I used to do a lot of things.”

Lucas leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You could do them again if you wanted. That is one of the joys of leaving your father’s home: he doesn’t get to tell you what to do anymore.”

“And I’m certain if you disapprove, you’ll tell him. So he’ll know anyway.”

An odd comment. “What do you mean?”

She still didn’t look at him. “Father made me a prisoner in the house these past two days. Someone whispered in his ear that his disobedient daughter intended to run away.”

Oh dear.

“If I’d realized that conversation on our rock was actually being had withhimthrough you, I would have held my tongue.”

“That was not the situation at all. I was worried. If you had made good on that threat, you would have been in very grave danger.”

Her eyes darted to him. “You used to talk tome.”

That was unfair. “Andyouused to talk tome.”

She didn’t say anything more. Her attention returned to the passing scenery.

His frustration grew as they sat not speaking, the miles passing. She’d shown no willingness to even try to make something of this marriage. The situation was difficult, yes. Buthehadn’t caused it. He’d done all he could to fix it. He’d tried to change their parents’ minds. He’d pleaded. When that had failed, he’d insisted on every consideration he could in the marriage settlements, even convincing their fathers to specify that her future title would not ever be absorbed in the Lampton titles. He’d done all he could, yet all he seemed to get from her was bitterness.

A quivering breath broke the heavy silence. Lucas looked more closely at Julia. She was crying. It was not anger he saw in her face but misery.

His poor Julia. What a mess they were in.

Lucas moved from his side of the carriage and sat beside her. He placed a square of linen in her hand, then set his arm around her. Julia’s tears turned to sobs.

Married less than a day and his wife was weeping. Perhaps, while he’d been in the chapel that morning, he ought to have uttered a few desperate prayers. They needed every miracle the heavens could manage.

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