Page 58 of Almost a Bride
They suddenly heard a voice from the courtyard. “Roselyn!” It was the girl, Charlotte.
For a shattering moment, Roselyn didn’t know what to do—her body had betrayed her by almost melting against Spencer, and even now she wanted to drop her head back against his shoulder and kiss him.
He stumbled away from her and sat on the stool just as Charlotte entered. The girl looked stunned—and disappointed—at seeing him in Roselyn’s bake house.
And Roselyn felt as guilty as if she’d let him bed her right there on the floor. What else could the girl think when she looked on his handsome face?
“Hello, Charlotte,” she forced herself to say. “Was today the day we agreed on for a baking lesson?”
“Yes…” she began uncertainly. “But I don’t wish to intrude.”
“Intrude? Why saints above, no. I just have a terrible memory lately. You remember Mr. Sanderson? On my walk this morning, we encountered one another again, and I offered him a meal.”
Spencer nodded. “The cook in my barracks is normally a stable groom. Now I know exactly what the horses eat.”
Roselyn was amazed—and troubled—by how easily he adapted to any situation. He looked utterly innocent and spoke in so charming a manner, how could Charlottenotbe fooled?
Yet still the girl only gave him a bewildered smile and turned to study Roselyn.
“Shall we get started?” Roselyn asked brightly.
~oOo~
Spencer soon made his excuses to the women and left them to their lesson. Wielding his cane with a little more confidence, he chose a direction he’d never gone before.
Clouds scudded across the sky, and though the day was considerably cooler, he still worked up a sweat. Soon he’d be ready to leave and face his fate in London.
A twinge of regret took him by surprise, but he ignored it, finding a path through fields of cut grain. Coming up over a slope, he saw a little stone chapel nestled between fields, and a small graveyard beside it.
A sense of fate called to him, and he drew closer. He wandered the well-tended graveyard, not knowing until he found Philip Grant’s grave that he was looking for it.
He was stunned to see a second name on the headstone.
Chapter 17
Spencer’s uneasiness increased as he read the inscription on the headstone:
MARY GRANT
AGE 2 MONTHS
He awkwardly knelt down. Roselyn had lost both a husband and a child—why had she never told him?
With almost grim self-punishment, he thought back to his comments on her mourning clothes, as if she didn’t have a right to mourn.
He had had little time to mourn his father before he had left for Spain. To survive, he’d been forced to adopt another identity. He had put his family—even his father—away in his mind, as if they didn’t exist.
He had left the comforting of his mother to Alex, and could only hope his brother had been up to the task.
But who had comforted Roselyn? Who had been with her when she’d held her dying child—or had she been alone?
As the sun disappeared behind a cloud, he leaned forward and touched the letters spelling the baby’s name. There were dying flowers laid on the grave, as if Roselyn couldn’t visit frequently. It had been a year now, and maybe the hurt wasn’t as fresh—and he himself had kept her busy.
But how did a mother get over the death of a child?
At the nearby crackling of dried grass, Spencer whirled about on his knees to find a thin, older man staring down at him, wearing a large mustache on his lined face. Spencer was aghast that he’d allowed someone near without hearing him, and that he’d never thought to carry his knife for protection. Had Roselyn so befuddled his mind?
The man made no threatening moves, so Spencer took his time using his cane to stand.
