Page 143 of The Seaside Homecoming
He stared at her, angry furrows raking his brow.
She pressed on, “I know I have made mistakes in the past, yet I deserve better than a loveless marriage.”
“You are rejecting me?” he asked in disbelief.
“I am.”
“Because of that Hammond fellow, am I right? Perhaps I shall have to tell him of our past ... affiliation.”
“Do what you must. He already knows.”
That seemed to take the wind from his sails. He sighed and swore under his breath.
More gently, she said, “I take no pleasure in disappointing you. But there are other women who would suit your purposes far better. Miss Craven, for one. Now, if you will excuse me, there is somewhere I need to go.”
As soon as she was able—after she had given Mrs. Ballard instructions and looked over the mending Mary had begun and praised her progress—Claire put on her blue spencer, a bonnet, and gloves and left the house by the outside stairs.
Lord Bertram’s valet came out the front door at about the same time and paused to speak to her. “We’ll be leaving today, miss. I’m on my way to the livery to have the coach-and-four readied.”
She nodded. “Thank you for letting me know.”
Claire wondered if Lord Bertram would leave payment for his stay. She did not know but was not about to ask the indebted man for money. She had more important things on her mind.
33
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “How Do I Love Thee?”
Leaving Broadbridge’s, Claire walked up the street feeling free, whole, and full of life and hope.
She crossed the River Sid at the bridge and began the steep walk up Salcombe Hill. She was not certain if William had come this way or gone west to climb Peak Hill, but she could not sit still awaiting his return.
When she reached the first viewpoint, she paused, breathing hard and gazing into the distance, toward the deep blue horizon and the grey waves below.
She heard something and turned. There came William, descending from the summit at a brisk pace, leg muscles pressing against close-fitting breeches, arms pumping, and handsome features tense with concern or perhaps even anger. When he saw her, no welcoming smile softened his face.
“I hoped I might find you here,” she said.
His long strides narrowed the divide between them, but a few yards from her, he stopped.
“I was on my way back,” he said. “To tell you not to marry the man. I was a fool to tarry. The past does not matter. I may not have been a perfect husband to Vanita, but I will be a far better husband to you than that man could ever be. Tell me I am not too late. Have you already given Bertram an answer?”
“I have.”
His body stilled, only his Adam’s apple rose and fell.
“I said no,” she hurried to clarify. “I don’t love him, and marrying him would not redeem our past mistakes. He was preparing to depart as I left the house.”
William released a long breath and walked closer. “What a blind fool he was to have a gem like you in his grasp and trample it beneath his feet.”
He took her hand, and only then did she notice his other hand was empty. “Where is your stick?”
“Left it. Knew I might be tempted to thrash Bertram with it. In fact, if I hurry, I might yet do so.”
Claire shook her head. “He is not worth the effort. Let him go. If you and Mamma can forgive me, then maybe I can believe God has forgiven me. Perhaps even forgive myself.”
