“If that is what you think…”
“It’s what I know, Patrick. You’re a great deal stronger than you let on.”
Patrick nearly shot out of his seat. “Look here! You hardly know me. So don’t go making assumptions about who and what I am.”
“Any idiot would know within five minutes of meeting you what sort of person you are,” she said. “Do you really think I would’ve invited you to walk to the souk that day if I didn’t believe you were the sort of man a girl could put her trust in?” Linley did not give him a chance to answer. “And I know you feel trapped in all your responsibilities, and you’re scared to let them go, but one day you’ll realize there is more to life than fancy clothes and fancy motors.”
“If money was all I cared about, then I would be having this conversation with Gaynor Robeson, and not with you!” When Linley’s jaw fell open, Patrick sneered. “That’s right! Gaynor’s father has made it quite clear that her hand in marriage would come with a fat dowry. A dowry that I desperately need.”
Linley sat there with her mouth agape, unable to think of anything to say.
“Oh, but don’t worry about me,” Patrick continued. “After the season, I’ll return to Kyre. I’ll attend a few shooting parties, and then join the hunt.” He sighed, wondering whom he was trying to convince. “It will be summer again before I know it.”
“You would…marry…Gaynor Robeson?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice.”
“Patrick, you cannot marry her,” Linley said. “She may be pretty, and she may have heaps of money, but she is the most vile woman alive. Not to mention spoiled and shallow. Her dress bills alone would run you into the poorhouse!”
Despite Linley’s very good argument, Patrick couldn’t help but laugh. “Do I detect a twinge of jealousy in your words?”
“If it wasn’t for Gaynor Robeson, our paths might not have crossed again.” She thought about that for a moment as she rested her head on his shoulder. “In a small way, I owe her everything.”
“But I’ll bet you’d never tell her that.”
Linley grinned. “Not for all the tea in china.”
***
They sat for hours on the hill, watching the night sky fade from purple-blue into the pink grapefruit of dawn. Linley relished in the feeling of Patrick’s arm around her, lying tucked against his body with his evening jacket and his warmth to drive away the dewy chill of morning. Why couldn’t life be like that always? No heartaches, no goodbyes. Just an endless summer sunrise with the one person who mattered most in all the world.
“We should get you home,” Patrick said, stirring. “There will be an uproar when the servants wake and discover you’re not in your bed.”
Linley resisted the urge to groan. She knew he was right, but she hated knowing that the fairytale had finally come to an end. “Won’t you at least drive slowly?”
He climbed out of the motorcar and helped her into her seat. “You could always stay, you know.”
“It would break my father’s heart.”
It would break Patrick’s heart, too, but he knew better than to press her. Instead, he started the engine and made the short drive back to London.
“You can write to me,” Linley said as the outskirts of London came into view. “My father keeps a villa in Malta. We are hardly ever there, but if you wanted to send me a line or two…to let me know how you are, or anything at all…I could give you the address.”
“I would like that very much.”
“And I could write to you,” she continued. “It wouldn’t be very often, and you wouldn’t have to write me back...just if you felt like it, or you weren’t too busy.”
“Write me every day if you want.”
Linley watched as they drove further and further into London, growing closer and closer to Bedford Square with every passing moment. “Oh, Patrick, I wish I could stay. It’s going to be awful knowing I’m so far away from you and that I may never see you again.”
“We will see each other,” he said, turning into Bedford Square. “You know how to find me.”
They stopped in front of Berenice Hastings’ townhouse. Patrick got out of the motorcar and walked around to open the door for Linley.
“I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet,” she said. “Couldn’t you come see me off at the dock? We’re leaving on the British-India line to Chittagong—”
“No.”
It was inevitable. Linley could not put off their parting any longer, unless she stayed behind in London—which, no matter how badly she wanted to, she simply could not do. “I will miss you terribly,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Patrick clutched her to him, not caring if all of London saw. And then, when he could not hold her any longer, he let her go.
PART II
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE