Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Gregory arrived at the town house as he always did, on the stroke of ten. But he’d arisen earlier than usual to prepare for this visit than he had the others. The creases in his cravat were as sharp as the razor that had shaved him. He wore his best coat and new gloves and had spent more time adjusting the angle of his hat than a sailor spent with a sextant.
He was not a vain man. But if this turned out to be the last time he saw the woman he loved, he wanted her to remember him at his best. And if it was not the last time? Then everything about the day must be perfect.
Hope was waiting for him in the hall of the town house, as she always did. Had she taken care with her appearance as well? It seemed so. Her bonnet was new and matched a green-velvet coat that would be more appropriate on Bond Street than the neighbourhoods he had been taking her to visit. Even the errant curl was under control today, tucked safely under her bonnet.
‘Are you ready to accompany me, Miss Strickland?’ He offered his hand to her.
He felt her tremble as she accepted it. ‘Yes, Mr Drake, I am ready. Let us finish this, shall we?’ The arrogance that had coloured her voice on the day they’d met was gone, replaced with an unexpected gentleness. And had he really seen a sparkle in her eye as the veil had dropped to shield her face? It had looked almost like a tear.
She was sitting across from him in the carriage now. He could not tell whether she looked away from him, or gazed at his face as steadily as he was gazing at hers. It did not matter. He would not allow her to do either in silence. At this late date, each word he could wring from her would be deemed a step towards regaining her love.
‘Did you sleep well, Miss Strickland?’
The veil on her bonnet rippled, as another shudder ran though her. It must have been embarrassment, for she whispered, ‘You are not supposed to ask things like that, Mr Drake.’
She had not called him Gregory, but neither had she snapped at him. Things were going better than he’d expected they would. ‘Would you have preferred that I asked how you find the weather?’ He pulled up the shade and glanced out the window. ‘It is a lovely day, is it not, Miss Strickland?’
There was a moment of silence, as if she could not decide how to answer the simplest question. Then, she said, ‘I am sorry, Mr Drake. After all that has happened between us, I do not think I know how to make polite small talk with you.’
‘What do you wish to do instead?’ He had several suggestions, none of which were appropriate for broad daylight or a closed carriage, even with the shades drawn.
‘I wish to apologise,’ she whispered. ‘It was very improper of me to come to your room in the manor. And I behaved even worse the next day, when Grandmama caught us there together. I have treated you abominably.’ She expelled the words in a single rushed breath and they were barely loud enough to be heard over the rattling of the carriage wheels.
‘Perhaps you have,’ he agreed and heard a surprised gasp from behind the veil. ‘But I cannot blame you. I should not have allowed anything to happen between us. While I am working, it is a point of pride on my part that I treat the families of the men who hire me with the utmost respect. With you, I have broken that rule.’
‘I did not mind,’ she whispered.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘And if it were possible to go back to the day we met, things would be different.’
‘But since we cannot, do you think it might be possible to start again, now?’ Her voice was so quiet that he almost could not hear it.
‘I would like that very much,’ he said. ‘But we must wait until the list is complete.’
‘What difference will that make?’ she asked.
‘Once it is done, I will no longer be in the employ of your family. Then, if you still want to know me, we will meet at properly chaperoned social gatherings, as other ladies and gentlemen do. We might be friends.’
‘Or more than friends,’ she said, then gasped again as if she’d realised that it was not her place to make such a claim upon him.
He smiled at her to assure her she had not been too forward. ‘We will start fresh. This afternoon, after we have found the vase.’
‘I would like that,’ she said. He could not see her smile, but he was sure it must be there.
‘I am glad to hear that, Miss Strickland,’ he said, falling back on professionalism to hide the pleasure he felt at her response. ‘But first we will find your vase.’ He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘I have compiled a list of likely dealers in ceramics and fine porcelain that might have purchased it from your grandmother. Were you able to get a more exact description from her?’
‘I do not need her word for the vase. I know perfectly well what it looks like,’ she said. ‘And I can also assure you that it was not in any of the shops we have already visited.’
‘Do not worry. I have no intention of wasting your time with those places, Miss Strickland,’ he said, turning to the second page of the list.
‘In fact, I do not see why you cannot just grab the first vase we see, as long as it is about three feet tall and of a Chinese design,’ she added.
‘But that would be dishonest,’ he reminded her, trying not to smile at her eagerness to be done. ‘And you told me on the first day that such a casual approach would be insufficient.’
‘That is true,’ she said with a disappointed sigh.
‘Do not worry, Miss Strickland,’ he said, forcing his smile. ‘I will take you to every last shop in London, or to China itself, if necessary. But we will return the correct vase to the correct place in the correct house.’
Once they arrived at the first stop, they fell back into the familiar pattern of their searches. Gregory made polite conversation with the shopkeeper while Hope examined the displays, searching for the vase. When she found nothing, she touched his arm, shook her head and they went back to the carriage.
They tried again. And again. In their past excursions it had taken no more than a few stops to find the missing item. But today, they progressed down the extensive list that Gregory had made, with no luck at all. After the progress they had made towards a truce, he did not want to see the afternoon spoiled by simple bad luck.
‘I hope you do not think I am leading you in circles. I swear to you, I thought we would find something by now.’
‘I am sure you are doing your best,’ she assured him. ‘Perhaps we will find it at the next shop.’
When they stopped again, he held his breath and uttered a silent prayer, for there was a huge Chinese vase sitting in a corner of the shop. She went to it immediately, running her hands over it with familiarity.
Gregory went to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. ‘Is this it?’ He could not keep the excitement from his voice, but she was too preoccupied to notice.
‘The colour is right. The one I remember had the same pattern of flowers running up the side and the red dragon twining in and out of them.’ She pointed down at the base. ‘And I have tripped more than once over the cast-iron stand.’
She ran her fingers over the rim and shook her head. ‘This is smooth,’ she said. ‘There should be cracks.’
‘We are looking for a cracked vase?’ He did his best to contain himself, but she turned and caught him stifling a laugh.
‘And I suppose you are about to suggest that we break this one.’ Her response was frustrated, but not angry, as if the humour of the situation was not lost on her.
‘I will do so if it makes you laugh again,’ he said softly. ‘But I promised you we would find the right vase and I always keep my promises. Come. There are other places we can search.’
They visited three more shops and he found it harder to smile with each failure. If he wanted to assure her of his ability to care for her, he did not want to appear to be a failure. ‘I am beginning to wonder if you are trying to destroy my perfect record,’ he said, trying to make light of it.
‘I have told you from the first that I did not believe you could not solve every problem,’ she said.
She was speaking of the diamonds again, but since last he’d seen her something had changed. It was as if she was resigned to their loss. He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Sometimes, there are solutions you have not even imagined yet.’
‘If you are suggesting that I run away with you and avoid the issue, you needn’t bother. No matter what happens, I will not leave my family when they need me most.’
Her declaration caught him off guard. She had been as eager to start again as he was. But then, it had been as if he’d walked towards an open gate, only to have if it swing shut in his face. As usual, the Stricklands were on one side and he was on the other. Neither a night of passion nor a proper daytime courtship was likely to change that. ‘Of course not,’ he said, still numb.
The coach was stopping at the last shop on his list and it was almost a relief. If he was to fail, let it be soon. Then he would give her his other piece of news and see if it was more disappointing to her or less. ‘I do not really expect to find anything here,’ he said with a shrug. ‘We have not visited it before because I did not think there was a chance of finding anything of value. But I will not give up until I am sure all hope is gone.’ And he was closer to that than he had ever expected to be.
Despite the cold in the February air, the shop’s front door was propped open and smoke billowed out into the street. Once their eyes had adjusted to the dim light inside, they could see that the majority of it came from a tiny fireplace in the corner and the few smouldering lumps in the grate that were barely worthy of the name coal. The rest came from a long pipe the proprietor puffed, filled with the foulest tobacco in London.
‘Hello, Tibbett,’ Gregory said, holding a handkerchief to his nose, attempting to block the smell.
‘Drake!’ The man put down his pipe and the smoke wreathing his head cleared enough to reveal his jagged-toothed smile. ‘What can I help you with today?’
‘We’re looking for a vase,’ he said, smiling back. ‘A posh one. Wide like a pot and so high.’ He held out a hand.
‘Don’t have much call for that,’ Mr Tibbett said, frowning and pointing. ‘What I got is there, in the window.’
Gregory gestured to Hope to look for herself, though he had seen nothing close to the duplicate she had shown him earlier. But before she could reach the alcove that served as the display window, she stumbled over a heavy metal something that was being used as a stop to hold the front door open.
He was at her side to catch her before he’d even had time to think. That was how it had been on the first day and how it would always be. No matter what she said or did, today, tomorrow, or in the past, he loved her. He could not help but care.
She paid no attention to his touch, too focused on the thing at her feet to notice his help. She pulled free and crouched, hauling the doorstop away and letting the door swing shut with a bang behind her. She swung her arm wide, nearly knocking off his hat as she held the thing aloft.
She struggled to carry it to the counter for the ornamental cast-iron stand must have weighed at least a stone. As Gregory watched in amazement, she set it in front of Mr Tibbett with a loud clunk. ‘It is here. It must be for I have stubbed my toe on this so many times I would know it anywhere.’ Apparently, she no longer needed his help. She pushed past Gregory, pulled up her veil and spoke directly to the proprietor. ‘Sir, can you help us? There is a vase that belongs with this stand.’ She held out her arms in an O shape to indicate the size. ‘It is nearly waist-high and decorated with chrysanthemums and a dragon.’
‘A big red snake, you mean,’ he said.
‘Rather like that,’ she allowed. ‘But I think, actually...’
‘I have been meaning to throw the pieces away for ages. But the old lady what brung it promised she would return for it.’
‘That is the one, I’m sure.’
‘Pieces?’ Gregory repeated, alarmed.
‘I never would have taken a thing in that condition. But she insisted...’
‘My grandmother can be most persuasive,’ she agreed. ‘And just as she promised, we have come to collect it and to pay you whatever was promised.’
‘What condition were we speaking of, precisely?’ he interrupted.
Since what he thought was obviously unimportant to her, she ignored Gregory’s question, as did Mr Tibbett. ‘It’s in the back room,’ he said, gesturing them further into the shop. When Gregory stopped on the other side of the curtain that separated storage from shop he called, ‘No, further than that. You’d best light a candle. I do not waste the money on them, since there is nothing of value there.’
‘The thing we have spent all day searching for has no value,’ Gregory repeated to her as Hope pushed past him again, reaching for a taper and going back to the stove to light it.
She walked past him yet again, light held aloft, trying to see to the backs of the dusty shelves. ‘There it is,’ she said at last, pointing towards the corner, at the pile of broken china.
‘It was in one piece when it arrived,’ Tibbett said a little defensively. ‘But when I tried to move it...’
She waved his protestations away. ‘Do not concern yourself, sir. It was broken long before it ever came to you. It was in the hall that we used for footraces when we were little girls. Someone bumped into it at least once a year.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘But I was the one who finally knocked it off the base. I glued it back together and crossed my fingers. Grandfather caught me at it, of course. But his punishment could not change what had happened.’
‘I was told no such thing when I took it,’ Tibbett said, his eyes narrowing. ‘I’ll still be wanting the original price for it,’ he said.
‘And I have no intention of wasting my client’s money on something you were too lazy to chuck in the bin,’ Drake replied with an equally steely gaze.
‘Pay the gentleman, Mr Drake,’ Hope said, stooping down to gather up the pieces of the last Comstock heirloom. ‘I will put it back together again when we get back to the town house.’
‘Forgive me for asking, Hope. But are you mad?’
Apparently, the answer was yes. At the sight of her precious vase, she could not even be bothered to lecture him about his rudeness. She was on her knees, ready to scoop the broken pottery into her spread skirts.
He seized her wrist to stop her and pulled her to her feet. ‘If you are intent on having it, let me do that. You will cut your hands.’
She gave him a militant look as if ready to remind him that it was not his place to dictate to her like a lover or husband. He glared back to tell her that she could just as easily have ordered him to do what he’d offered to do, since, apparently he was nothing more than a dustman for the peerage.
Then he turned back to Tibbett. ‘I’ll pay the original price if you throw in a trunk to carry the pieces.’
‘The pot, a crate and a sack,’ Tibbett countered.
‘Done,’ Gregory said with a sigh. ‘And the use of your coal scuttle and a brush, to sweep up the pieces. He opened his purse and counted out the bills the man requested and recorded the amount spent in the little notebook. Once that was finished, Gregory turned back to the pile of broken pottery, stooped down and began piling the bits into a sack. Then, he carried it to the carriage.
Hope was already waiting for him inside it.
As they set off for the town house, he spoke. ‘You are not seriously planning to leave that mess for the new Comstock.’
‘I will try to put it together again,’ she said and appeared puzzled that he would even ask. ‘It belongs to his estate. My great-great-great-grandfather...’ She paused, counting on her fingers and trying to remember generations. ‘At least, I think it was that many greats. The Fifth Earl. He was involved in the silk trade with the Orient. This was a gift from a Chinese princess. It is almost priceless.’
‘If by that you mean without value, I wholeheartedly agree,’ he said. If they had seen another vase just like it, the stories she had been told were likely rubbish, just like the vase.
‘You think an antique porcelain vase from China has no value?’
‘That used to be a Chinese vase,’ he said, pointing at the pile of shards in the box at their feet. ‘Now it is nothing.’
‘It is simply damaged,’ she said, gathering her skirts to be clear of the grime on the box at her feet. ‘When I was a child, I was not as careful as I might have been. Accidents happen.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ he said. ‘But then we clean up after them and move on with our lives. Rational people do not turn London upside down to find the contents of the dustbin after the junk has been carted away.’
‘A little paste, a little patience and it will be good as new,’ she said, with a smile that was almost as fragile as the porcelain had been. ‘At least, it will be as good as expected. It is centuries old.’
Centuries old. Just like her family was. And there was the problem. She could not seem to separate the things from the people. ‘Can you put flowers into it?’ he asked, folding his arms.
‘Why would I do such a thing?’
‘Because that was its intended purpose.’
‘I seriously doubt that,’ she said. ‘It is far too large for a bouquet.’
‘What is it for then?’ he urged.
She stared at it for some time, trying to figure out what its purpose might have been. ‘I think it might have been a cistern. Or a very large chamber pot. Or perhaps it was meant to hold an ornamental fish.’
‘Well, it is useless for any of those things now. It will never hold water again. But I can find you any number of new pots just as good,’ he said. ‘The one we looked at several shops ago was nearly the same.’
‘But it will not be ours,’ she reminded him.
‘It was not yours in the first place,’ he reminded her. ‘Nor was it your grandmother’s, when she sold it. And the new Earl would not know it from a hundred other similar vases I have seen in shops all around London. He would likely be grateful to have it replaced so that at least one thing in his home does what he expects it to do.’
‘You cannot possibly understand,’ she said. ‘We are attempting to maintain the history of the family.’
‘Of course not,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Since I have no family to claim me, I am forced to live in a nice house with modern conveniences and undamaged goods. In turn, your cousin has come all the way from Philadelphia to live in a house full of useless and broken items, kept for the sake of posterity. Do you not see the madness of this plan? If you cannot, I suspect Comstock will notice it when he arrives at the manor.’
‘You have no idea what the new Earl will or will not think,’ Hope said, growing more annoyed by the minute.
‘Haven’t I?’ Gregory said, trying to be patient, so she might find the truth on her own. ‘I am not the one who has been building Miles Strickland into some kind of saviour who will fix all the problems of the family with a wave of his hand.’
‘No, you haven’t. You tried to make him into a villain because you were jealous,’ she reminded him.
‘I did,’ he agreed. ‘Nor did I tell you that the other half of the task put to me by Leggett was to disabuse you of the notion that marrying him would solve all problems. He even gave me permission to lie to you, just the way I did.’
‘So you blame my brother-in-law for your bad character?’ she said, shocked. ‘Did he tell you to seduce me as well?’
‘I blame no one but myself,’ Gregory said, his face hardening. ‘I refused his suggestion and planned to reason with you instead. But at the ball, I was willing to throw away my principles for one moment of your attention. Today is proof enough that reason would have been pointless. I will never be able to change the mind of a woman who chooses to ignore what is right under her nose.’ He pointed down to the box at her feet, wishing that she could see it as he did.
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she said, honestly puzzled.
‘Have you never wondered why, when it came time to rob the entail, your grandmother chose the things that she did?’
‘Because she was selfish and did not think of the future difficulties it would cause,’ Hope said, without thinking. And that was the problem. She did not dare think. She was afraid to.
‘I have been to the manor with you,’ he said, walking her through the steps to the truth. ‘A single chair from the dining room would be worth more than all the things we have recovered. Can you not see what she has done?’
‘She stole things that did not belong to her,’ Hope said, stubbornly. But there was something in her eyes that flitted on the edges of awareness, crying to her that something was not right. He had but to get her to listen to it.
‘She did not take a chair because to do so would devalue the set. Instead, she sold rubbish. Dented candlesticks. Paintings too ugly to hang. Broken vases.’ He waved his hand. ‘And that abomination in the box. Comstock was right. It is a wonder that we common folk do not rise up like the Americans did and wrest power away from the nobles, for no sane family would want to preserve such detritus, much less punish one who disposes of them.’
‘You have spoken to my cousin,’ she said, taking the wrong message from his last words.
‘Because I wished to confirm that what I suspected was true,’ he said. ‘It was and he has my sympathies. The poor fellow has only just begun to realise the misfortune that has befallen him.’
‘He is heir to an earldom,’ she said, shaking her head against what she must know was the truth.
‘And head of a family that cannot pay their bills,’ Gregory said, making no effort to blunt his tone.
‘If Grandmother had not taken the diamonds, he would not have reason to worry,’ she snapped.
‘If you search your heart, you will know that that cannot be true,’ he said. ‘One of the smaller stones in the tiara would have been enough to run the estate for a year. The lavalier would have been enough for a decade. If she had sold off the diamonds, why have you been scraping by with half a staff? Why has the Dowager resorted to pawning small things that no one would miss so there might be food on the table?’
She was shaking her head, as if she still did not want to believe. He could see the truth rising in her mind like a bubble in stagnant water.
Before she could speak, he did, so she did not have to say the truth aloud. ‘There were no diamonds. There never have been. If ever they existed, they were sold off generations ago to support a decaying system that is finally about to fail. God help Miles Strickland, who has traded a perfectly good life in America for ruin and heartache with a family who refuses to admit to themselves or the rest of the world that they are poor.’
‘Poor.’ She said it very softly as if the word itself were the problem and by speaking it the situation would be made real.
‘You have kept hope alive by thinking that it was temporary,’ he said. ‘That all problems would be solved when the heir arrived. That as long as he was happy with the three of you, he would set things right and you need never worry again. But what good will it do you to marry the Earl of Comstock if there is no money at all to unencumber?’
‘We are poor,’ Hope repeated, as if still trying to grasp the thought.
He nodded encouragement. ‘I have the proof of it here.’ He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘My job was not finished until I kept my promise to you and settled the matter of the diamonds. You know I would not leave you without keeping my promise.’
‘You have found them?’ He could see the hope coming back into her face like rising colour.
It broke his heart to have to dash it again. ‘I found an explanation for their absence. I know nearly as many jewellers in London as I do pawnshops. I made enquiries after we returned to London.’
‘You gave away our secret to strangers,’ she said, dazed.
He shrugged. ‘The ones I deal with tend to have a certain flexibility of morality. I know far too much about them for them to speak of what they know of me.’
‘Dealers in stolen goods,’ she said.
‘And those skilled at the duplication of entailed family jewellery,’ he said. ‘Many families come forward at some time or other with a need for paste copies to thwart highwaymen. My friends do not care whether the reasons they give are true or not.’
‘It is not just Comstock?’ she said, still stunned.
‘Lord, no. Half the families in London are lying to the other half about how much money they have.’
He should not have told her this way, without any warning at all. Her eyes had grown round and her brow was furrowed in confusion. She looked like a child on an unmoored boat, watching the world she knew slipping away, with no idea how to save herself.
‘But back to the matter of the diamonds,’ he reminded her. ‘When we returned to London, I set about tracing them. The shop I visited has been in business for generations and makes almost as much money for their forgeries as they do with real gems.’ He tapped the letter again and pressed it into her hand. ‘They also keep excellent records.’
She stared down at the paper in front of her. ‘Someone requested stones exactly like the ones in the family jewels.’
‘And you can see, from the date referenced that it was during the Civil War.’
‘They have been gone since 1645,’ she said, staring at the paper.
‘Perhaps they hid the real stones from the government. Or perhaps from the rebels. Or they sold them to cover some age-old debt. I am sorry I cannot produce them for you.’ He reached out to take her hand. ‘But this should be sufficient documentation to prove to anyone who cares that the loss of them was an old family secret and not improper management by your grandparents.’
‘I have been worrying about a problem that did not exist,’ she said.
‘You have done what you have done because of lies that have been told to you for your entire life,’ he said, trying to keep the anger from his voice, lest she think it was directed at her. ‘If you had told me the truth earlier, I could have saved you much pain. Now that you know it, you must see that you cannot bring back the past, as you remember it. It is gone.’
‘But if there is no money, what is to become of us?’ she said, still stunned.
‘That is up to you,’ he said. ‘I have no title. But I have money and a house, and on my worst day I can provide a better future than Comstock ever will. Let me do that for you, Hope. Let me care for you. Let me love you.’
After all her talk earlier in the day about starting anew, now that the moment had come, she said nothing.
They had arrived at the town house and it seemed foolish to wait in the carriage once the servants had opened the door. He hopped out and helped her to the ground. But today, she seemed as broken as the Chinese vase. As her feet touched the pavement she stumbled, unable to support herself.
And as he had before, he caught her before she could fall, putting a hand under her elbow to help her keep her feet. For a moment, things were as they had been, when she had trusted him with her life and her love.
But when she looked up at him, she still seemed as confused as she’d been in the carriage. There was no sign that she had heard the offer he’d made.
With his free hand, he signalled for a footman to take the box of broken china. He helped her into the house, not releasing her until he was sure she was able to stand on her own. ‘Shall I call for a servant to bring you a restorative?’ he asked. ‘Tea, perhaps? Or brandy?’
‘No. That will not be necessary,’ she said. She was still deathly pale, but she raised her head in a fair imitation of the proud beauty he had met just a week ago.
‘You do not have to worry,’ he said. ‘No matter what happens, you will not be alone.’
‘Of course not,’ she said, with a faltering smile. ‘I have my family and they have me as well. I cannot abandon them when life is at its most difficult, you must see that, Mr Drake.’
‘Of course,’ he parroted back, fighting the desire to shout the truth back into her white face. Perhaps it was because he had no family, but he did not understand at all.
‘I must speak to Grandmama about what you have told me.’ She was glancing absently about the room, as if the Dowager were nothing more than another misplaced item to be found and put in the correct spot. ‘And Charity, of course. I do not know if there is anything we might do to ease the burden on our American cousin. But we must try, mustn’t we?’
‘Of course,’ he said again. It should be some comfort that, if she held him to blame for the night at the manor, she had forgiven him as he’d hoped. But she had forgotten him as well. Though he’d offered her the new start she had wanted, only a few streets from where they stood, she could not imagine a life outside this house any more than she could imagine that a trip to China might be more interesting than playing with a vase in the manor hallway.
She had made her choice and it was not him.
Now, it was as it had been on the first day they’d searched. His job was complete and it was time for him to leave. Yet though she had just dismissed him, he was standing there like an idiot, waiting for some signal that he was still welcome. Did he honestly expect her to thank him for turning her life upside down?
So, just as he had on that day, he fell back into his expected role of consummate professional. ‘And now, Miss Strickland, we have come to a parting of the ways. As Mr Leggett requested, all the items on your grandmother’s list have been found and returned to the estate. I have encouraged you to think of a future that does not include a marriage to your cousin, but I am under no obligation to stand in the way of a match, should the two of you wish to make one. At least, with my research into the history of the Comstock diamonds, I have proved that it is not necessary to offer yourself as some sort of matrimonial sacrifice to appease his anger. Take him the letter and explain all. I am sure he will be as interested in the matter as you are.’
She gave him a hesitant nod.
He continued. ‘Given certain things that have occurred between us, I understand that you may not wish to offer a favourable reference for my services. But do not concern yourself that any part of this incident will come back to you as gossip. I was hired for my discretion. No word of it shall ever pass my lips. And if you need them in the future, do not hesitate to call on me.’
The words spooled out of him, as they always did, like the final lines of an actor exiting the stage. With minor variations, it was the same speech he always gave when the job was finished and there was nothing left to do but collect his payment and move on. He delivered them with the same patent smile he had given her on the first day, the one he used on strangers.
This was the moment when his clients often thanked him. The words were almost as gratifying as the money. They would have been even more so today. He needed some small scrap of assurance that what had happened between them was something profound and not the dream it had begun to feel like. But Hope Strickland had mastered the art of ignoring the obvious long before he’d met her. Why should she admit to feelings that would prove inconvenient in the future?
He turned to go, then paused, his hand on the door handle, and turned back to her, unable to resist one more look, one last attempt to repair the damage he had done by falling in love with her. ‘Do not believe what you have been told about the fragility of a lady’s honour. Any man who deserves your love will not fault you for your past, should you decide to admit to one. You are an extraordinary woman, Miss Strickland. I wish you well.’
Then, he crossed the threshold, closed the door and was alone again.