could leave me off in America. That was your original proposal, was it not?”
“Eloping with a nobleman’s daughter was never part of my plan. I’ve only a parcel of land, no house. You’d be all by yourself for months, God only knows where.” There were worse places than this for her to be, rife with physical rather than emotional danger.
“Once you are my husband, he can’t stop me.” Her voice was measured and calm.
The word husband hung in the air like twilight mist. How could he possibly sleep a wink wondering what would become of her in a strange place, a new country, and a harsh one at that?
“It will never work, Elisabeth.” He pulled himself up to her level and perched on the lip of the floor that projected beyond the fence, flush against a post to stay hidden. “The best I could do is return for you as soon as I’ve a place for you to live.”
She sat on the bench, rested her elbows on the railing, and brought her face within a few inches of his. Those eyes studied his face, a trace of a smile came to her lips. “I’d just about given up waiting for you and made my own plans. Every spring, I spend a few days in London, at the invitation of The Countess of Sandringham, to visit the dressmakers for the seasonal fashions. This time, I’ll not come back.”
The feigned helplessness proved to be a stunning cover. Something else to love about her. He reached up to stroke her face. “Where will you go? What will you do?”
“What I can. Work the soil, take in sewing, be a nursemaid. I’ve been out amongst common folk. I want to get as far away from this as possible, and quickly. Papa’s hands are even more rough than usual.”
Edward studied her in the moonlight. If there were bruises, Baxter had taken care to be sure they were in places no respectable lady would show, and no respectable man would touch in anger. “I’m only here for another week before I sail again. If I don’t keep to my schedule, I’ll never make enough money to send for you. Just give me some time.” Building the house would suck all his money up for the foreseeable future. He could never afford to take care of her, too. He clenched the rail so tightly pain ran up his shoulder.
“I’m no longer permitted to do any of my charity work. He has cut off my monthly allowance and threatened to disinherit me if I don’t accept a marriage proposal. The only reason he’s permitting me to go to London is because of the talk if I didn’t show to the next Season. This is my last chance.”
The woman was a brilliant strategist. Charm, capture, then drag in the net. Her absolute trust touched a place in him rarely moved. But still. “How could we get around the matter of banns? And to complicate things, my father was Irish and had me baptized Catholic.” There were dozens of small farms on the Cape, tended by sailor’s wives as strong as Elisabeth, but far wiser. Those women would offer her haven in return for her services, but the work would be grueling for someone so unaccustomed.
“Damn the Church. We could marry with a civil registrar, somewhere they won’t recognise me.” She stared into his eyes with the intensity of a cat about to pounce.
Memories of the ridicule his family endured, and his mother’s despair after being rejected by both his father’s and her family for the mixed marriage boiled to the surface. Add class differences to the stew, and Elisabeth would be a pariah. What would that do to their relationship, to their children? America was the best place for both of them. But not just yet.
“The Countess’ London home is under sheets. This year, she is hosting the event at the Kensington. She’ll be busy enough with her own affairs, and there is likely to be a bit of confusion. I’ll pretend to be ill and stay in my room.”
“And then what? Come to retrieve you with a ladder?” A laughable idea, but she wasn’t laughing.
“Perhaps you could reserve your own as well. We’ll hire a carriage.
“Eloping with a nobleman’s daughter was never part of my plan. I’ve only a parcel of land, no house. You’d be all by yourself for months, God only knows where.” There were worse places than this for her to be, rife with physical rather than emotional danger.
“Once you are my husband, he can’t stop me.” Her voice was measured and calm.
The word husband hung in the air like twilight mist. How could he possibly sleep a wink wondering what would become of her in a strange place, a new country, and a harsh one at that?
“It will never work, Elisabeth.” He pulled himself up to her level and perched on the lip of the floor that projected beyond the fence, flush against a post to stay hidden. “The best I could do is return for you as soon as I’ve a place for you to live.”
She sat on the bench, rested her elbows on the railing, and brought her face within a few inches of his. Those eyes studied his face, a trace of a smile came to her lips. “I’d just about given up waiting for you and made my own plans. Every spring, I spend a few days in London, at the invitation of The Countess of Sandringham, to visit the dressmakers for the seasonal fashions. This time, I’ll not come back.”
The feigned helplessness proved to be a stunning cover. Something else to love about her. He reached up to stroke her face. “Where will you go? What will you do?”
“What I can. Work the soil, take in sewing, be a nursemaid. I’ve been out amongst common folk. I want to get as far away from this as possible, and quickly. Papa’s hands are even more rough than usual.”
Edward studied her in the moonlight. If there were bruises, Baxter had taken care to be sure they were in places no respectable lady would show, and no respectable man would touch in anger. “I’m only here for another week before I sail again. If I don’t keep to my schedule, I’ll never make enough money to send for you. Just give me some time.” Building the house would suck all his money up for the foreseeable future. He could never afford to take care of her, too. He clenched the rail so tightly pain ran up his shoulder.
“I’m no longer permitted to do any of my charity work. He has cut off my monthly allowance and threatened to disinherit me if I don’t accept a marriage proposal. The only reason he’s permitting me to go to London is because of the talk if I didn’t show to the next Season. This is my last chance.”
The woman was a brilliant strategist. Charm, capture, then drag in the net. Her absolute trust touched a place in him rarely moved. But still. “How could we get around the matter of banns? And to complicate things, my father was Irish and had me baptized Catholic.” There were dozens of small farms on the Cape, tended by sailor’s wives as strong as Elisabeth, but far wiser. Those women would offer her haven in return for her services, but the work would be grueling for someone so unaccustomed.
“Damn the Church. We could marry with a civil registrar, somewhere they won’t recognise me.” She stared into his eyes with the intensity of a cat about to pounce.
Memories of the ridicule his family endured, and his mother’s despair after being rejected by both his father’s and her family for the mixed marriage boiled to the surface. Add class differences to the stew, and Elisabeth would be a pariah. What would that do to their relationship, to their children? America was the best place for both of them. But not just yet.
“The Countess’ London home is under sheets. This year, she is hosting the event at the Kensington. She’ll be busy enough with her own affairs, and there is likely to be a bit of confusion. I’ll pretend to be ill and stay in my room.”
“And then what? Come to retrieve you with a ladder?” A laughable idea, but she wasn’t laughing.
“Perhaps you could reserve your own as well. We’ll hire a carriage.
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