She knew something had happened between us, even if Miranda was still ignorant. “Of course.”
Ginny curtsied, and then raced toward the back of the house, hidden behind a curtain. A moment later I heard the door shut. My lungs grew tight. It was as if she’d taken any air with her. Miss Lamier and Miranda chatted happily; they saw no difference in the world now that Ginny was gone. Was I going insane?
“Well,” Miranda said. “Shall we look at samples? You don’t mind waiting a moment, do you, my lord?”
Vaguely, I shook my head.
“Of course,” Miss Lamier said. “I found the silk.”
Miranda gasped. “Oh! Lovely!”
Although I’d never actually asked the woman to marry me, I had escorted her to look at material for a wedding trousseau. The absurdity was not lost on me. When had I stopped caring about my own life? When had I lost control?
When Ginny had disappeared.
But now she was back.
And as out of control as my life suddenly seemed, it also felt right. So damn right.
“I forgot something in the carriage.” I bowed, not waiting for my fiancé’s approval. I didn’t miss the way the seamstress watched me warily. She was a smart one.
I tore open the door and moved purposefully onto the footpath. Rain started to fall in earnest. I lifted the collar of my jacket as I glanced left, then right. It wasn’t hard to find her as all rational individuals had fled inside. She rushed toward a small park between the shops. I should have let her go. I couldn’t.
I followed, determined to have a word with her. “Ginny.”
She hurried her steps, slipping on slick fall leaves. “Leave me alone!”
Just as she found the safety of the trees, I reached out, grabbing her arm and jerking her around to face me. “Where the hell have you been?”
Her hair was damp, raindrops trailing down her face. A face flushed from cold and exertion. She’d never looked more stunning.
“Why do you care?” She tore away from me. “You all but told me to leave that night.”
I resisted the urge to curse, determined to keep my wits. “You misinterpreted—”
“What does it matter, Gabe?”
Gabe.
It had been a while since anyone had called me that. It was startling to hear my given name upon her lips again. A reminder of how close we’d become in that short time we’d been together. I hadn’t imagined the connection. If I had, she wouldn’t be this angry. She wouldn’t be staring up at me with a mixture of confusion, hatred, and longing. If I had, she wouldn’t have called me Gabe.
“Why does it matter?” she asked again, holding her arms wide in surrender. “You’re engaged. So, go. Be with your fiancé.”
She was right.
Whether we felt a connection or not, what did our relationship matter?
What did it matter that I’d finally found her? I couldn’t throw my life away for this woman. Not after everything I’d gone through to get here.
It shouldn’t matter.
It wasn’t supposed to matter.
She turned and raced through the trees, leaving me alone with the rain.
It did matter.
Chapter Four
Gabriel
I felt like a bleedin idiot as I stood in the doorway of the modiste shop. Outside the weather had taken on a blustery October afternoon that had kept many indoors. Only a few servants and footman raced up and down the lane, doing their masters’ bidding. The ton was at home, preparing for an evening of socializing. As I should be. How the hell had I ended up here?
Slowly, I slapped my leather gloves upon my palm.
I hadn’t planned to come here. I’d been heading to the club when I suddenly found myself tapping the roof of the carriage and demanding we turn right instead of left.
Hell, maybe I had meant to come here all along.
Maybe when I’d gotten up this morning, after a week of thinking about her, I’d known exactly what I was doing. Perhaps, as I’d gotten dressed, I’d dressed for her. Mayhap when I’d stepped into the carriage, I’d known all along I’d tell the driver to head this way.
The ringing bell above the door faded. The room grew silent. Watchful. It was as if the flowers, the feminine swatches, and dresses that decorated the area wondered what in the hell I was doing here.
The sudden sound of footsteps echoed from the back hall. Not Ginny. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did. Ginny walked with purpose, with no desire to impress anyone. These steps were light, delicate, feminine.