Layton, Edith by Edith Layton

Author:Edith Layton [Layton, Edith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-05T13:18:45.546000+00:00

Chapter 12

A mber heard the rain slapping against the windows and sizzling down the flue and knew the storm had set in and would last all night.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked Amyas. “Where will you go from here? Will you keep looking for your mother’s family? Oh, I suppose you really weren’t, were you? So, are you going to keep searching for a respectable wife? I suppose it’s none of my business, but I’d like to know so I can put an end to this story. Or at least, our part in it. Because, as you say, we’ll never meet again, and I know I’ll always wonder about what happened to you.”

“I owe you that, at least,” he murmured.

“You owe me nothing,” she protested. “But I confess I’d like to be able to tell Grace what became of you. And I think that when Mr. Tremellyn calms down, he’d want to know, too.”

His nearness was making her nervous, but she couldn’t bear to send him out into the rain again, to let him go, once and for all. “I tell you what,” she said on a sudden inspiration. “I’ll put on the kettle. We can have some tea, and talk. Then when you do leave, at least people will have your side of the story.”

And there’ll be a line left open, she thought, a road back for you, or us, so that one day…

She bustled over to the hearth, took down the old iron kettle, and slung it on a hook over the hearth, poked up the fire, and turned to speak to him again. He hadn’t moved. He still stood by the door.

“Please sit down,” she said. “Unless, of course, you want to leave us as soon as you can.” She paused and knotted her hands together. “I wouldn’t blame you, actually.”

The silence ticked on. Then he smiled, and shook his head. “What would you blame me for? You’re too good. You should be as angry at me as Tremellyn was.”

“Maybe,” she said, her head to the side as she considered it. “But the only thing you actually did to me was to not have anything to do with me. And I don’t have an angelic temperament, you can ask anyone. It’s just that you didn’t get me angry. I care for Gracie, but as you said, I suppose you really never disappointed her. I didn’t see her staring at Tobias, though. Still, you may be right. But as for me? How can I be angry? You were only trying to better yourself.”

“I couldn’t have done better than you,” he said quietly.

She looked down. She couldn’t look at him too long when he was this close. He dominated the little house; she hated to imagine how empty it would feel when he left. He’d been soaked to the skin and dried by the fire, and still looked wonderful.

His butter-colored hair looked shaggy and mussed, but that only made it more attractive. She wondered if the fire had shrunk his clothes, then realized they couldn’t be tighter than the fashionable ideal.

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