Promise Me Tonight: A Weston Novel by Sara Lindsey

Author:Sara Lindsey [Lindsey, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2009-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

Despite Henry’s misgivings, Isabella still believed James would return to her before too long. She knew that he needed time to come to terms with their marriage, but she assumed that once his anger cooled, he would see reason. She still didn’t regret what she had done; no matter what James had said, she hadn’t had any other choice. Once he understood that, he would forgive her. And then she, being the magnanimous wife she was, would forgive him for forgiving her when he should have been thanking her.

No doubt the entire reasoning process was taking far longer than it should because he was, well, a he. Men, she noted, did not think logically, and therefore it took them far longer to puzzle out the “why” of things. She added at least a week for his bruised pride to recover, and another week on top of that because, seeing as James was as stubborn as a mule, he would be that much more resistant to realizing he had been wrong. So, she told herself, she could not expect to see or hear from her husband for at least another two weeks.

After three weeks had passed, Isabella began to make excuses that a letter had probably gone astray, or that foul weather prevented James from traveling. She worried he had taken ill, or some terrible accident had befallen him. When a month had gone by with no word at all, her brother’s pronouncement began to echo in her head: “I don’t think he intends to return. I don’t think he intends to return. I don’t think he intends to return.”

The words repeated themselves over and over, flapping and beating at her mind like the wings of a flock of black-birds until she thought she would go mad.

Instead, she began to believe it. James wasn’t coming back. He was gone, really and truly gone. There would be no tearful forgiveness, no joyful reunion. He was gone, and where, she wondered, did that leave her?

Apparently it left her drinking tea with her mother and her aunt, she thought wryly. While the activity (or lack thereof) was by no means displeasing to her, it was certainly not how she envisioned spending the rest of her days. It was time for her to grow up, to move on, to live.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she said, “Mama, Aunt Kate, I think it is time for me to decide what is to come next.”

“Next, dear?” her mother queried.

“In my life,” Isabella clarified. “I have to figure out what I am to do now. James is not coming back, and I cannot spend the rest of my days waiting for him to change his mind. Neither can I stay here forever, hiding behind my mother’s skirts. I am no longer a child; it is time I faced that reality.”

Her mother’s eyes grew misty. “While I should, of course, like to keep you with me always, you are right. It is time for you to leave the nest.

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