On Sparrow Hill (23 page)

The look upon his face when he lifted his mouth from hers made her guess he was as astonished by the kiss as she.

He stiffened, then took a full step back. “That was quite . . . unexpected. I must ask your forgiveness again. I’ve no excuse. I don’t even—”

He cut himself off once more, and aside from completely agreeing that the kiss was unexpected, Berrie wanted to hear his finished statement. “You don’t even like me?”

Simon shook his head. “I was going to say I don’t even believe a man should kiss a woman unless they’re wed or about to be.” He cleared his throat. “If that is what you expect of someone who’s just taken such liberties with you, I assure you I am willing to do the honorable thing and seek your company with the possibility of . . . marriage.”

That his voice sounded positively ill upon that final word wasn’t lost on Berrie. Her fists clenched at her sides. “What an
honorable
proposal, Mr. MacFarland. Let me assure you of two things. First, I intend never to marry. And second, even if I were open to such a thing, I assure
you
I would never receive the attentions of someone who fairly strangles upon the thought of me as his wife.”

If he was stiff before, he was more so now. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you, for having a certain kind of wife in mind? A sort you obviously could never be. I don’t need someone who is madly in love, blind to my faults, but I would prefer a woman who at the very least respects and honors my thoughts and opinions.”

“Perhaps then you might take your charming proposal to someone who can be that for you. It’s been my observation that when you respect and honor someone, they might do the same in return.”

She started to turn away, noticing he didn’t move to follow. So be it. She didn’t need him to escort her back to the front door.

“If your intention is to argue, Miss Hamilton, I can think of various other topics than one as serious as marriage. Your loyalty to England, for one. Your work schedule for another. The fact that you’ve left your family and your home even suggests there might be some reason to have run away from them, and I cannot help but wonder why. There are no doubt other topics that might inspire an argument between us.”

“Undoubtedly. Your complete disregard for manners being on top of a great, long list of your offenses.” Setting such a list aside, her gaze narrowed as she stared at him. “Bringing up my loyalty to England in hopes of arguing it away from me would be like attempting to argue me out of being a woman. I am what I am—an Englishwoman. As for my reasons for leaving my home and family, I assure you there was no flight involved. I am fully supported by my loving parents, two successful brothers, and a sister and sister-in-law, all of whom mean more to me than anyone. You obviously have no idea that someone could be called of God to do something and be willing to sacrifice the comforts of home to answer such a calling. Which would bring me to another item on my list: your definition of God is so alien to me as to wonder if you have any faith at all, sir. If so, it is a faith completely and utterly foreign to me.”

“My faith, if anything, is far more practical than yours. I’ve no fanciful notions of a God who wants to be involved in my life. As for sacrificing, that I have done more than you can imagine. A life of my own, for one, while I devote myself to my country, which needs too much of me. Beside that, I have two sisters, neither of whom seem to want my protection but need it nonetheless.”

She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps they don’t. I cannot speak for Innis, though you did say she is about to be wed, but as for Katie, she is safe and happy here.”

Simon folded his arms in obvious skepticism. “Can you honestly stand here and tell me she has a job in your school, as you’ve let her believe? That she isn’t just one more student for you?”

Berrie kept her gaze level with his. “I believe with every part of me that in time Katie will be more help than harm here. Eventually she truly will be the example for other students in most if not all areas we’re trying to teach.”

“Eventually.” The word sounded just short of scoffing.

“Maybe God designed Katie for exactly what she’s doing—patiently helping others try to figure out language and baskets and folded serviettes. She can’t do that cloistered away in your home.” She wanted to turn away at last, go back inside, and let him go to the inn, but in his silence she wondered if her words had made any impact at all.

Finally he spoke. “You are advocating a future for Katie, something I’ve never been able to envision for her except to keep her safe.” His tone had taken an unexpected turn, one of consideration rather than conviction.

“Everyone has a future,” she whispered, “but wouldn’t Katie’s be better if she were allowed more than just safety? Why not think about all the things she can do instead of all the things she can’t?”

Simon almost smiled. She saw a glimpse of something similar in the corner of his mouth. “Since the moment I met you, Miss Hamilton, you’ve never ceased to give me something to think about. To be honest, I hadn’t imagined Katie staying here more than the year I agreed to.”

Berrie was surprised he admitted that he’d been lacking in any way regarding his sister. Acknowledging a fault in himself—that was one thing she’d been convinced Simon MacFarland would never do.

But that was no more astonishing than his kiss had been, and the memory of it made her heart beat beyond her control. He ought to leave, and right away, so she could try erasing the memory altogether.

35

* * *

All the way from the village, Rebecca feared speeding through tunnels in a paparazzi car chase like the one that killed Princess Di, even though there were no tunnels or underpasses between the chemist shop and the Hall. Rebecca’s fears were made more ridiculous since she never allowed herself to exceed the speed limit. And yet how dare he follow her? There he was in her rearview mirror.

But if the reporter had any intention of taking more snapshots, he gave it up once she turned onto the private property of Hollinworth Hall.

She pulled her mini beside Quentin’s car, its presence giving away his arrival. She did not emerge from behind the wheel. Sitting immobile inside, she clutched the wheel, eyeing the package she’d bought.

Had she seen the man in the chemist shop? Perhaps. Certainly there had been a few customers there while she surveyed the pregnancy tests. Surely he knew what she’d purchased, and the logical assumption would be that she’d bought it for herself. How long would it be before all of London was reading not only about Quentin Hollinworth’s dual love life but that one of the women he was seeing had bought such a thing?

If only she’d had the sense to take Dana with her, let Dana buy the item. But there would have been no doing that; poor Dana had been especially pale this morning.

Rebecca considered the possibilities, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. Perhaps the reporter didn’t know who she was. She slapped her forehead. Of course he knew.

A tap at the window jarred her from her misery. Quentin was there, bending down to peer through the window with a smile, albeit a puzzled one.

She emerged on the other side, eyeing him over the roof of her mini.

“I didn’t see you come out of the Hall.” Her voice sounded as strained as she felt.

“I didn’t. I was in my car about to go in when I saw you arrive. Is everything all right?”

“No.” Rebecca would have preferred time to calm her senses but forged ahead anyway. “I just had my picture taken by someone I’m almost certain was a reporter.”

He came around to her side of the car. “I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to get used to, darling.”

He took her into his arms, and for a moment she let him. She needed his comfort. Then she remembered his embrace
wasn’t
comforting. Not when visions of Lady Caroline in a peignoir replayed in her mind. Rebecca pulled away, took a step back. Instead of telling him the truth, all of it, she held up the bag in her hand. “I was buying a pregnancy kit, Quentin. How soon do you suppose that will be reported?”

“A what?” He looked first amazed, then once again puzzled. “Why were you buying such a thing?”

“For Dana. Not that I should be telling you that; her husband doesn’t even know yet. You know what that reporter will say, what he’ll tell the entire reading world. What people will think.”

He smiled calmly. “You once told me you didn’t care much what people think.”

“I do when they’re misconstruing
facts
. . . and when one of the readers might be my father! What will he think when he reads such a thing?”

Quentin put his hands on her shoulders, but the attempt to steady her failed. “We’ll tell him the truth, the sooner the better, before he reads about it. It’s the only way. In fact—” his tone grew quieter, slower—“there’s something else about this whole media mess you ought to know. I only found out about it last night myself. I tried calling you. You must have been asleep already.”

She shook her head. “I heard your call. I didn’t answer it.”

His brows drew together. “Why ever not?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “What were you going to tell me?” She meant to let him tell her but couldn’t hold back. “A little detail you forgot to mention—about Lady Caroline being your houseguest again?”

“Yes—I mean, no, not at all. She’s not my houseguest; she’s my mother’s. And you knew? For how long?”

“Someone sent me a clipping. I must have received it by yesterday’s post, but I only opened it last night. Just before your call.”

“And so you decided not to talk to me? Didn’t you want to ask me about it?”

Rebecca tried to walk past him, not ask even now. The garage was narrow on this side, and with him in the way she couldn’t get by. He stood firmly in place.

“A friend of mine from London telephoned and said something about the article, and I knew nothing of it. I would have told you sooner if I’d known.”

“If you’d known what, exactly? That I was bound to find out anyway that you and Lady Caroline are once again sharing the same roof? You knew long before that story became public.”

She hated this argument, hated her words and the jealous, spiteful tone behind them. Life had been so much easier before admitting her feelings for him. Why had she ever done such a thing?

Quentin seemed to take the pause the same way she had, with a distasteful assessment of what was happening. Their first argument.

“You have a right to be angry,” he said quietly. “I should have told you my mother invited her to stay at the cottage days ago when she first arrived. It’s my mother’s attempt to put us back together. Caroline is the sister of an earl, like Mum herself, and therefore Caroline . . . measures up. It’s all a ploy—one I had nothing to do with.”

She sighed. “Oh, Quentin, that doesn’t surprise me at all. But I needed you to tell me that . . . from the beginning.”

“You already don’t like my mother. If I’d told you, it would have only made it worse. And it means nothing to me, having her there.”

Rebecca studied him. “You’re standing here telling me you felt nothing at all when she came to the breakfast table in her peignoir? Forgive me, Quentin, I find that hard to believe.”

“All right, I’m a man, but I have complete control over my actions. What’s in my head matters most, Rebecca. And I don’t want her. I want you.”

He reached for her again but she held up her free hand, the other one still clutching Dana’s kit. “She’s right for you, Quentin. Your mother is convinced of that and so is the newspaper. They said you’d gone back to ‘one of your own.’”

“Surely you don’t believe everything you read in the paper. They’re about to bring out a false report on that little purchase in your hand.”

She felt a smile tug at her lips, unbidden yet there. She wanted to cling to her cautions, put him at arm’s length both physically and figuratively, but when his lips came down on hers, she hadn’t an ounce of resistance.

Ignoring wariness wasn’t like her; at the moment, however, she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do except return his kiss.

36

* * *

Your letter is full of the most wondrous news, Cosima. I have not only a nephew but now a niece as well! I especially enjoyed your description of her and hearing of the peace the Lord God has given you regarding her. I am sure you are correct in that she has nothing of that so-called curse, just like her older brother. Certainly you recall what Royboy was like as a baby, and you would know if either of your children had similar traits. What joy! I shall continue to welcome each and every letter as you get to know this newest member of our family.

The plans God has for our lives continue to surprise me, Cosima. He has given me the greatest passion for the success of this school; I guard it as an eagle guards its nest. Lately, though, I have discovered a battle in me, and even though I have Simon MacFarland to blame (yet again!), this is a most unexpected turn for me.

I am sure he has forgotten entirely that he not only kissed me but proposed marriage, such as it was. A fact I wish I could forget. We argue every time we speak. I should continue to detest him, should I not?

But sometimes I miss dreaming about a husband, even as I tell myself I could never have enough time in the day for my work and a family. Still, pouring myself into my work of late has left me with the feeling that something is missing. I remind myself this is my family now, and the children temporarily mine. So will you pray for me, my friend?

Having Simon continue to visit so often is no help. I have succeeded in ignoring him with each visit until last night. We were outside again, thankfully not alone this time. . . .

The evening was clear and one of the other attendants had lit a fire in a round pit he’d dug a few weeks ago, marking it off with white rocks so the students wouldn’t venture too close. Duff sat on the stump of a tree with his fiddle in hand, while most of the others sat on the felled log, piles of hay, or blankets. Katie had invited Berrie to sit next to her on a blanket, and Simon sat on Katie’s other side.

“I noticed something today,” Katie said to Berrie while the others sang. Katie had a clear voice and was the best singer among the students. But she had a smile on her face just now that was nothing short of sparkling, so it was difficult to wish her back to singing or the smile would be missed.