The Way to a Gentleman's Heart - Theresa Romain Page 0,35
voice, picked up yet more speed. It was the work of a minute to scramble back to the ladder—carefully, of course, on the batting—and slide down. “Marianne,” he said as soon as his feet touched the earth. “Marianne,” he said again, taking a step toward her. “You’re—what are you doing here? How did you get here?”
She shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand, squinting at him. “I came home. Mrs. Brodie gave me the use of her private carriage.”
Surely he was imagining all of this. Viola hadn’t sent him any food or water yet, and he was imagining things. “Her private carriage. The use of it. For a journey of more than one hundred miles.”
“Well, yes. She said she wouldn’t feel right about me traveling alone on a stage or the mail.”
Jack shook his head. “What kind of academy is this?”
“It’s an exceptional one.” Marianne grinned.
“Yes, I think it is.” He looked at the stack of remaining slates on the ground. The roof, with so much done and so much left to do. “And you’re here...why?”
Her expression went serious. Her hand fell to her side, and she looked at Jack with frank eyes under straight brows. “I came to apologize to you.”
He started to sit on the slates, then thought better of it and sank to the ground. “Forgive me,” he said. “It’s already been a long day. I just—could you say that again?”
“That I came to apologize to you?” She sat on the ground beside him, careless of her familiar old work dress. “I did. And I do forgive you, just as you asked.”
He poked her in the arm. “Oh, good. You’re real.”
She poked him back. “I’m real. I’m really here. And I wanted to see you. I missed you, after all the days I’d seen you in London. I decided I didn’t want to get used to missing you again. Jack, I was so proud and superior. I shouldn’t have—”
“You shouldn’t have had to go to the slightest bit of trouble.” Oh, she would break him to bits with her apology. She would make him anew. “Why I didn’t fall on my knees and beg for your hand at once, I don’t know.”
“Because we couldn’t bear that the past meant nothing.” She smiled. “And because you were holding all those strawberries. If you knelt, you might have dropped them.”
“Then you do forgive me? For giving you up?”
It was all he’d wanted—and when she shook her head, cold dismay washed over him.
Until she replied. “But you didn’t, did you? At least, you didn’t give up on me. And so there is nothing for me to forgive. If we’d wed eight years ago, we wouldn’t be here together like this. I couldn’t have surprised you today when you were all dirty and strong and capable. And today...”
She blushed. He smiled, the dismay ebbing like a wave, only to be replaced by peace. “Today is beautiful,” he said. Heedless of the dirt beneath his nails, the slate dust and detritus that covered him, he took her hand in his.
They sat a moment in silence. Marianne tipped her head back, letting the breeze stroke her cheeks. “I haven’t been on this land for years. I’m glad to see it again.”
“It missed you,” he said, not quite saying what he meant.
She turned her face to Jack’s, imploring. “Can you forgive me for my pride and anger? I asked you to go because I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“What a pair we’ve been. I left because I thought you didn’t trust me.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m not sure I trusted myself—to do the right thing, I mean. But I’ve since decided if I’m making choices that are motivated by love, then...that’s the best I can do.”
“And you left because you love me.”
He’d never seen anything as beautiful as her green eyes, looking into his with such depth and sweetness. “I do. I wanted to please you as best I could, Marianne. Even if that meant removing myself from your presence.”
“I missed you so much. I chased you away when you meant to help, and—once you were gone, the cooking lost its savor.”
Her lips twitched. He groaned. “You shouldn’t make terrible puns when you’re telling me nice things. You’ve told me that I love you, which is quite correct. Won’t you tell me what you feel?”
“I want to be with you, Jack. Even if that means removing myself from London.” She smiled. “Though it’s not really leaving London; it’s coming back home.