Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-nine

Amazing, what an hour’s rest, a warm fire, and a spot of doctored tea could do for a girl’s constitution. As she snuggled into her warm nest of blankets, Minerva decided fleecy quilts were her new favorite attire.

And she’d yet to have the promised grand tour, but judging by what little she’d glimpsed thus far, Riverchase was the finest home Minerva had ever dripped inside.

If only Colin would abandon his post by the hearth and come sit next to her, she would feel completely restored. He looked so miserable. She started to rise and go to him. But he stayed her with an outstretched hand and single, harsh word.

“Don’t.”

His voice and his eyes were so cold. Minerva shrank back into the divan.

He stared into the fire. “I’m sending you back to London. Tomorrow.”

“You’re . . .” Her breath caught painfully. “You’re sending me to London? Not taking me.”

Now that Scotland was no longer their destination, she supposed it made sense that they would turn back. But tomorrow? Separately?

He nodded. “It’s safer that way. And more expedient. Naturally, you’ll have outriders for your security. Mrs. Hammond, my housekeeper, will travel as your companion.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll ride ahead to warn Bram, so he’ll be expecting you.”

“Lord Rycliff? But what will you tell him?”

“The truth.” He gestured vaguely. “Some version of it. That we left Spindle Cove with plans to go to Scotland, but it didn’t work out. And that I’m asking his and Susanna’s help in salvaging your reputation. We’ll tell everyone you never traveled past London. That you fell ill that first night, and you’ve been staying with them the whole week.”

The prospect of so much deceit made Minerva’s stomach churn. “Susanna is my friend. I don’t want her to lie for me.”

“Such things are done all the time.”

Minerva knew this much was true. More than one of the young ladies she’d met in Spindle Cove had been sent there to weather a scandal or indiscretion. As the village’s erstwhile patroness, Susanna kept a great many secrets. And society at large owed her a great many favors of discretion, no doubt.

But it would be one thing to conceal this journey from public notice, and another thing to banish it from their own memories. He spoke as if they would be strangers to each other, from this point forward.

“This is what you truly want?” she asked him. “To just pretend none of this happened?”

“No matter what occurs, you will never lack for anything. Once I gain control of my accounts, I’ll quietly settle some money on you. Enough that you’ll be able to live as you desire. Set up house in any place you wish. Devote your life to your scholarship. You and your sisters will always have my protection.”

“Your protection? Am I to be your mistress, then?”

“God, no.”

“Oh.” She swallowed a sob. “Not even that?”

With a muttered curse, he crossed the room and sat beside her. “Minerva, I would never degrade you that way. After all the pain I’ve caused you, I wouldn’t blame you if you banished me from your sight.” He dropped his head to his hands. “Don’t make me list all the ways I’ve failed you.”

“Then I’ll list everything you’ve given me. Hot tea and blankets. A day at the fair. An apple, an orange, peaches, cherries. The chance to win twenty pounds in a shooting contest. The courage to sing in a tavern. My first honest compliments. Breathless passion, and enough adventure to last a lifetime. Just think, in this one week alone I’ve been a missionary, an assassin, a long-lost princess . . . and, we can’t forget, a sword swallower.”

“Believe me.” Looking up, he gave her a half smile. “So long as I live, I will never, ever forget that.”

Her heart warmed to see that flash of his familiar good nature. This was the Colin she knew and loved.

She shrugged. “After all that adventure, perhaps being a simple geologist would have come as a disappointment.”

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Minerva.” His hand went to her cheek. “I know how much it meant to you. You can’t tell me you’re not disappointed.”

No, she couldn’t. And she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He held her in his arms while she had a good little cry for poor, pulverized Francine and all those smashed scientific ambitions.

After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes. “I just wanted to leave a footprint. Make my own lasting mark on this earth, the same way Francine left hers. To post a little sign that will survive for generations to come: ‘Minerva Highwood was here, and the world is just a little different for her presence.’ I just wanted to make an impression.”

“Yes, and you should have done.” He rose from the divan and strode to the hearth, where he tapped the mantel with his fist. “You would have done. Your only mistake was joining up with me.”

“That wasn’t a mistake.”

“Of course it was. Haven’t you noticed, Min? I leave impressions everywhere. Except in my case, they’re not footprints. They’re more like craters.”

With a single finger, he nudged a porcelain shepherdess toward the edge of the mantel and then—

Smash it went on the hearthstone.

“Oh look,” he said dryly. “Colin Sandhurst was here.” He sent another figurine careening to its doom. “And here.” A third crash. “Here, as well.”

As the melody of destruction trailed off into silence, Minerva took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. “Colin, do you . . .” She steeled her nerve. “Could you love me?”

He stared at her. “For God’s sake, don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t answer you. Because no matter what I say, I’ll make a hash of it somehow. I can’t even get your plaster lizard footprint to Scotland. How could I ever be trusted with something so precious as your heart?”

Drawing a blanket about her shoulders, she pushed to her feet. She crossed the room and moved to stand at the opposite corner of the hearth.

“Colin, if you could love me . . . nothing else would matter. You’re worth so much more than a science prize of five hundred guineas.”

“Oh, do you think?” He cast a pointed glance around the magnificently furnished drawing room. “Yes, I’m worth a great deal more.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“But this was never about the money. I know how much it meant to you. You were so driven to attend that symposium. You’ve risked everything, Min. Security, reputation. Your very life. And I destroyed those dreams.”

She touched his wrist and waited until he met her gaze. “You didn’t destroy my dreams. You broke me out of my shell. There was bound to be a bit of a mess.”

He brushed a light caress against her cheek and whispered, “Min.”

She smiled and wiped a lingering tear. “Despite everything, this has been the most exciting, magical week of my life. I’m only sad that it’s ending this way.”

“I know, I know. It’s just wrong, isn’t it?” He took up the poker and stirred the fire with agitated motions. “I had this idea, you see. More of a foolish hope, I suppose. That all through this mad, tumultuous journey . . . we’d been writing the story of our future.”

She laughed a little. “Do you mean we were actually going to become missionaries in Ceylon? Or join up with a circus?”

“No, no. I don’t mean that we’d been foretelling our future. I meant, I hoped we’d been writing the story of our future. The tale we would tell and retell, over goblets of wine at dinner parties, and on dreary spring days when it’s too muddy for lawn bowls. Do you know what I mean? That it would be our story, Min. One we’d remember and laugh over for years to come, even tell some bits to our . . .” His voice trailed off as he replaced the poker in the andiron.

“To our what?” Her heart missed a beat. “To our children?” Had he been dreaming of a life with her?

“Minerva, you’re the most clever person I know. You can look at a queer-shaped hole in the ground and see a rich, vibrant ancient world. Look at me now.”

Looking him in those fiery Bristol-diamond eyes was never a trial.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you see a pleasant future with me?”

She reached for him, teasing her fingers through his hair. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“When I look at you, my thoughts are something like this: God only knows what trials lie down that path.” Smiling, she slipped her arms around his neck. “But take heart, Colin. Some women like to be surprised.”

He was silent for a long, breathless moment.

“Well, then,” he said darkly. He caught her up in one swift motion. “Surprise.”