Page 184 of The Sisters of Sea View
He dipped his head, looking mildly sheepish. “I know I saidthat’s why I was there. But the truth is, I came for two other reasons: you and Major Hutton.”
“Major Hutton?” she echoed.
He nodded. “He had been putting me off as I had been your sister. At last he invited me over and extolled the virtues of Sea View and its hostesses—insisted I pay a call. And he is not a man easily refused.”
She grinned. “As I am very well aware.”
“I was still procrastinating when the flood came. So I used the excuse of making sure the residents were faring well, although I had already heard that they were in good hands. In reality, I wanted to see the place for myself.”
Viola waited, afraid to hope.
“You may be glad to know that I will be mentioning Sea View in the new edition of my guidebook. And it will be a positive review.”
Satisfaction warmed her. “That is good news, indeed. My mother and sisters will be delighted. Thank you, Mr. Butcher.”
She held out her hand and he took it.
“You deserve the praise, my dear. I have been impressed with you since our first meeting. Now.” He released her hand and straightened. “How is our Mrs. Denby today?”
“She is well. Cheerful. Delightful as usual.”
“And Miss Reed?” He looked toward her door, as if steeling himself. “I suppose I should visit her first.”
“She is not here,” Viola was pleased to report.
“What?” Concern darkened his features. “Where else would she be? I thought she returned with the others.”
“She did. But today she is taking tea at Sea View with one of our guests. The two were old friends, apparently, who had fallen out of touch, and met again the night of the flood.”
He shook his head in amazement. “And people doubt that miracles still happen.”
Early the next morning, Mr. Henshall came out to join Sarah on the veranda one last time.
“All packed?” she asked.
He nodded and sat beside her, looking not at her but at the horizon. Voice low, he said, “I wish I had a great fortune. Then I might end your financial difficulties and the need for the guest house.”
She glanced at his pensive profile and replied gently, “Even if you had, we could not accept it.”
“Perhaps ye could. If I... If we were...” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s all useless conjecture, in any case, for I havena a great fortune. I have property and means, aye, but am tied to the land.”
“I know,” she said. Of course he must leave. She had known it all along. “I am sorry, Mr. Henshall. It was a generous thought, though.”
Emotions flickered over his face, then he drew a deep breath, schooling his features. “Ah well. I canna expect to win a woman’s regard so quickly, especially when she first suspected I was a thief or worse.”
Sarah managed a wan chuckle, even as her chest ached. “I wish things were different, but they are not.”
“Might I write to ye, at least?”
Sarah hesitated, feeling torn. “To what end?”
He flinched, and she regretted her hasty words. Yet would not a clean break be better—or at least easier—for them both?
Sarah rose, clasping her hands over her roiling insides. “So.” She tried to keep her tone light. “What time does your coach depart?”
He rose as well. “Nine. The lad with the donkey cart should soon be here to take us to the inn.”
She swallowed and offered her hand. “Then I wish you and Effie a safe journey.”
