to face him. “Your presumption is correct. I thought I was over him, but
I am not sure I ever will be. Please do not tell Randolph. I don’t want him to know.
He was instrumental in introducing me to Joseph and encouraging our courtship. It
will be a good marriage. I know it will. I do not wish to change my mind. I only wish
I could stop wanting what I know is not good for me.”
Nicholas nodded. “I know all about that.”
They continued to wait in silence.
“Tell me this will pass,” she said.
He considered it. “Of course it will, in time. I’m sorry, Rose. While I am grateful
that Cavanaugh came to your rescue last night, I wish I could have come for you instead.”
She couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze for she feared her composure might crack, and
that simply would not do. Two years ago she had been to hell and back over Leopold
Hunt, but she had recovered. She had learned not to wallow in self-pity. To this day
she could not bear to be pitied by others.
“Do not worry for me, Nicholas,” she said. “I will forget him, just like the last
time.”
But would she, really? Last time, she had built a wall of anger and hate around the
memory of him.
This time she had forgiven him and secretly celebrated the fact that he still cared
for her. She had been overjoyed to learn that, contrary to what she believed, he had
not wanted to end it two years ago. It had been difficult for him, too, but he’d had
no choice in the matter, for it was a contract of betrothal which, as a gentleman
of honor, he could not break.
Either way it was tragic. She still desired Leopold Hunt, but it could not be. Not
then, not now. Not ever.
“Who is the woman to whom he is pledged?” Nicholas asked suddenly with a curious frown.
“And why did he never speak of it before? We have been friends for years.”
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that she is English,
and that is why he is here. But he is leaving again, very soon, apparently.”
Nicholas paced around the front hall. “It’s odd. He hasn’t met her yet, but plans
to leave as soon as he does? Will he take her with him?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Help me forget him, will you? Don’t ask me about
him again. I want to enjoy the play tonight.”
Their brother Randolph came bounding down the stairs just then. Rose was relieved
to see him. It would take her mind off things.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said. “I feel like a love-struck schoolboy. Someone
hit me over the head, will you?”
Rose smiled. “You are referring to Alexandra, I presume?”
“Of course. My future wife, for I will have no other,” he said with confidence.
“Remember, she must choose you first,” Nicholas reminded him with a note of caution.
“Oh, she will. I know she will.”
Rose took Nicholas’s arm and walked out the door, hoping that for Randolph’s sake,
Alexandra did in fact return his affections—for it was never easy to mend all the
pieces of a broken heart when such a love was not returned.
PART II
The Road Home
Chapter Six
Petersbourg, July 1814
Leaning into the wind, Leopold urged his mount into a faster, wilder gallop across
the fertile green fields and relished the heady exhilaration that always came when
he traveled at such speeds. It was nothing like a battlefield charge, when he was
surrounded by a thundering army of soldiers overcome by one of two things: savage
bloodlust or heart-wrenching terror. Nothing about this resembled that at all. The
warm, humid scents of the morning filled his nostrils with clean fresh air and filled
his head with an almost unrecognizable sense of peace. Holding tight to the reins,
he pressed his horse into a dangerous leap over a high stone wall, then tried to put
all thoughts of war behind him.
He had come home to Cavanaugh Manor with a clear purpose to embrace his title in the
new realm and begin anew.
I am not sure I ever will be. Please do not tell Randolph. I don’t want him to know.
He was instrumental in introducing me to Joseph and encouraging our courtship. It
will be a good marriage. I know it will. I do not wish to change my mind. I only wish
I could stop wanting what I know is not good for me.”
Nicholas nodded. “I know all about that.”
They continued to wait in silence.
“Tell me this will pass,” she said.
He considered it. “Of course it will, in time. I’m sorry, Rose. While I am grateful
that Cavanaugh came to your rescue last night, I wish I could have come for you instead.”
She couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze for she feared her composure might crack, and
that simply would not do. Two years ago she had been to hell and back over Leopold
Hunt, but she had recovered. She had learned not to wallow in self-pity. To this day
she could not bear to be pitied by others.
“Do not worry for me, Nicholas,” she said. “I will forget him, just like the last
time.”
But would she, really? Last time, she had built a wall of anger and hate around the
memory of him.
This time she had forgiven him and secretly celebrated the fact that he still cared
for her. She had been overjoyed to learn that, contrary to what she believed, he had
not wanted to end it two years ago. It had been difficult for him, too, but he’d had
no choice in the matter, for it was a contract of betrothal which, as a gentleman
of honor, he could not break.
Either way it was tragic. She still desired Leopold Hunt, but it could not be. Not
then, not now. Not ever.
“Who is the woman to whom he is pledged?” Nicholas asked suddenly with a curious frown.
“And why did he never speak of it before? We have been friends for years.”
Rose shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that she is English,
and that is why he is here. But he is leaving again, very soon, apparently.”
Nicholas paced around the front hall. “It’s odd. He hasn’t met her yet, but plans
to leave as soon as he does? Will he take her with him?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Help me forget him, will you? Don’t ask me about
him again. I want to enjoy the play tonight.”
Their brother Randolph came bounding down the stairs just then. Rose was relieved
to see him. It would take her mind off things.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said. “I feel like a love-struck schoolboy. Someone
hit me over the head, will you?”
Rose smiled. “You are referring to Alexandra, I presume?”
“Of course. My future wife, for I will have no other,” he said with confidence.
“Remember, she must choose you first,” Nicholas reminded him with a note of caution.
“Oh, she will. I know she will.”
Rose took Nicholas’s arm and walked out the door, hoping that for Randolph’s sake,
Alexandra did in fact return his affections—for it was never easy to mend all the
pieces of a broken heart when such a love was not returned.
PART II
The Road Home
Chapter Six
Petersbourg, July 1814
Leaning into the wind, Leopold urged his mount into a faster, wilder gallop across
the fertile green fields and relished the heady exhilaration that always came when
he traveled at such speeds. It was nothing like a battlefield charge, when he was
surrounded by a thundering army of soldiers overcome by one of two things: savage
bloodlust or heart-wrenching terror. Nothing about this resembled that at all. The
warm, humid scents of the morning filled his nostrils with clean fresh air and filled
his head with an almost unrecognizable sense of peace. Holding tight to the reins,
he pressed his horse into a dangerous leap over a high stone wall, then tried to put
all thoughts of war behind him.
He had come home to Cavanaugh Manor with a clear purpose to embrace his title in the
new realm and begin anew.
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