. . well, lately, it has become downright unbearable. I've often thought that if only I could get away from here, and make a new start where no one knows about my beginnings, that things might be different for me. That maybe I might have the sort of life I've always dreamed of having." She swallowed hard, feeling the full weight of his gaze upon her. "I — I hate to ask this, Charles, but you're my only hope. You — and England.""Amy, what are you saying?"She turned her head and met his piercing stare. "That I want you to take me to England with you."She saw him straighten up and wipe a hand down his face, blinking once, as though her request had not only surprised, but stunned him. Then he turned away, raking a hand through his hair, putting a few steps between them. "Amy, I am promised to another. Much as I wish to help you, I'm not sure this would be wise. You know that I . . . that I have feelings for you, but I am honor bound to keep my commitment to Juliet, and having you near would only make things difficult. I'm sorry, but we must try to forget all that has happened between us.""Oh, Charles, I would never hinder your plans or do anything to jeopardize what is between you and Juliet. After all that you've been through, you deserve to be happy. But please don't leave me here to molder where I'm neither loved nor appreciated; please take me away, and let me have this chance at a new beginning, I beg of you.""Doing what, Amy?""I would make a wonderful lady's maid."He stared at her. "After all these years of catering to your sisters' every whim, is that what you want?""At least I'd be getting paid for it! At least there would be no shame in it, or in who I am! What other chance do I have, Charles? And even you must see that it's not an unreasonable request. Why, your sister could teach me all that I don't already know, and once I'm accomplished, I will leave, Charles, I'll go work for someone far away from you. I'll remove myself from your life so that I don't make things difficult for either one of us. But please, Charles, don't go off to England and leave me here, I simply couldn't bear it."He kneaded his brow for a moment, tortured by this decision he wished he didn't have to make. Finally he gave a defeated sigh, his breath frosting the air, the wisdom of his head fighting a losing battle with the will of his heart.In the end, he capitulated. How could he not? How could he go away and leave this woman who was so dear to him, who had done so much for him, to a life of servitude, misery and ostracism when he alone held the key to her happiness, her hopes, her very future?What, really, would it cost him to bring her with him?"Very well then, Amy. I shall go speak to Sylvanus about it.""Oh, thank you, Charles!" she cried, and stopped herself just before she would have flung her arms around him.He looked at her bleakly; then he turned and walked away.~~~~Within the hour, Amy had packed the few things she had while her sisters looked hatefully on and heaped insult and abuse upon her head. She hugged her misty-eyed brother and bade a silent goodbye to a stunned Sylvanus; and then, turning her back on the only home she had ever known, she'd gone with Charles to New York, where he'd met with his superiors, accepted a leave of absence, and arranged for passage on the first ship heading home to England.The crossing took just over five weeks. For Amy they were wistful, lonely days, for Charles had arranged that she have her own cabin, and she did not get the chance to speak with him often. Sometimes she would see him on the quarterdeck, conversing with the ship's captain; sometimes she would see him at the rail, alone, the wind in his hair and the wide, cold expanse of endless blue sea spread before him. Her longing for him was a constant ache in her heart, but she knew that he wanted to be alone, and so did not seek him out.She knew that he was avoiding her.And everything that made her a woman told her why.He did not love Juliet Paige. He might feel duty bound to marry her, he might feel responsible for her care and welfare, but he did not love the woman with whom he'd had a brief and impassioned romance two years past. He did not love Juliet Paige, and Amy knew, deep in her heart, that he loved her.Knowing that this must cause him guilt and pain, she determined to do nothing to encourage things any further than they'd already gone. Charles had enough on his mind, and on his conscience, without the added anguish of trying to sort out his feelings for her. He was still betrothed to Juliet. He had a baby to take care of, a baby that he'd never even seen. There was no room in his life for a romantic entanglement with Amy, and Amy was not so selfish as to try to force him into one.She would go to England, then, and seek employment as a lady's maid. As she had done before, she would love him from afar, doing her best not make his life any more complicated than it already was. And if sometimes the memories of the brief interludes they'd shared became too painful, he need never know. If her heart broke when she saw him in the arms of his long-lost fiancée, she would smile for him and be glad that he was finally reunited with her. If she lay awake in her bed at night and burned with the memory of all the times he had kissed her, of what it had felt like to have his hands on her skin, her face, those areas of her body that no man had ever touched before —or since — well, she would treasure those memories in private. She would never have Lord Charles himself, but she had her memories, and those, she would forever keep close in her heart.~~~~It was gray and gloomy when the ship dropped anchor in Portsmouth. Charles wasted no time in rejoicing that he was finally back in his beloved England; he wasted no time in appreciating how lush and green its grass was in comparison to the brown, weather-beaten turf they'd left behind in frozen Massachusetts. Now that he was here, he only wanted to get to Ravenscombe and to Blackheath Castle.They hired a private carriage, and, with Contender trotting along behind, headed north. The sun did not come out once, and, looking at Amy's enraptured face — which had been pressed to the window in delight and wonder ever since they'd stepped into the coach back in Portsmouth — Charles wryly decided not to tell her to expect it to. At least, not until April.That was the way of an English winter.Thoughts of his family were paramount on his mind. Had they received his letter? What would his homecoming be like?Unreasonably, a thread of nervousness coursed through him. He turned his face to the window, gazing out at the downs as he tried to dispel it. How silent they looked beneath the brooding sky — timeless, changeless, majestic. A glaze of white frost cloaked them, and, bare of trees as they were, their noble brows blunted by time, they looked invincible.Like Lucien.His wiped suddenly damp palms on his breeches. He had no reason to feel this strange anxiety, but he did, and it was growing stronger the closer they got to Blackheath. At dusk, they passed through Lambourn with its familiar taverns, shops and buildings. There, the carriage broke an axle, forcing them to hire another to take them the rest of the way. Charles's apprehension settled in the pit of his stomach. They continued on through the downs, and now he felt strange palpitations in his chest as his heart began skipping beats. He told himself he was merely excited. But he knew it was something else.And there, far out across a darkening valley and commanding the countryside for miles around, was Blackheath Castle. Even from here, Charles could see the pennant, tiny with distance, that flew above it. Lucien was home. In a few minutes, he would be reunited with his family — and the fiancée who had loved him so dearly and so well back in Boston.Was that the reason for this strange, unfathomable nervousness? The idea of seeing Juliet again?Didn't he want to see her?All too soon, the wheels of the carriage were crunching on the great drive of crushed stone .
