Discovering Miss Dalrymple by Emily Larkin

Discovering Miss Dalrymple by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin [Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780994144386
Publisher: Emily Larkin
Published: 2017-10-23T18:00:00+00:00


He walked fast, almost running, and once he knew he was out of sight, he did run. Not to get away from the Dalrymples but to distance himself from the moment when Georgiana had seen him for who he truly was. He ran until his chest was burning, then staggered to a halt and bent over, hands braced on his knees, lungs heaving.

When he’d finally caught his breath, he straightened and wiped the sweat from his face and looked around. He was in a clifftop meadow fringed with hedgerows and trees. The sea was a vivid, sparkling blue and buttercups were bright in the grass. Alexander stared at the beauty surrounding him and felt despair and defeat. I pretend to be a man, but I’m not one. And now Georgiana knew.

He closed his eyes, remembering the shock on both their faces.

Oh, Christ, he’d practically shouted at them.

Alexander shoved his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he said, out loud.

At least he hadn’t stayed to see the shock on their faces transform to disgust.

If you’re going to do something, do it well, his father had always told him. Well, if he’d had to burn his bridges, at least he’d done it thoroughly, crying in front of the Dalrymples, raising his voice at them, running away.

“Fuck,” he said again.

He’d have to face them. Of course he had to, at the very least to apologize, but he wasn’t ready for that moment yet, and so he kept walking.

After half a mile, he came to an empty country road. There was no signpost in sight, but he didn’t have to be a genius to know that turning left would take him back to Lansallos and turning right would take him further away.

He went right, striding fast, his boots crunching in the dry dirt and throwing up puffs of dust.

The road sidled closer and closer to the cliffs until there was nothing between it and the sea but an eighty-foot drop. Alexander went to stand on the very edge. The sea breeze was strong, buffeting him back. He had to lean into it to stay upright. Waves crashed on the rocks below. He stared down at them. Why aren’t I afraid of this?

He should be. An eighty-foot cliff, not sheer but close enough, with the occasional thorn bush sprouting from the rock. If he fell, he’d die.

But heights had never been something he’d feared.

Alexander sighed, and stepped away from the edge.

The road turned inland after a quarter of a mile. Alexander stayed by the cliffs, following a rough path. A riding officer’s path, most likely. To deter smugglers.

But he saw no riding officers, or smugglers. Only sheep. And after an hour he came to a sizable fishing village. I could get lost there, Alexander thought, looking down at the busy harbor and the stone houses climbing the hillside. Be someone other than who I am.

It was tempting. Very tempting. To leave Alexander St. Clare behind and simply become Charley Prowse. To never return to Thornycombe. To never see Georgiana again.



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