Page 28 of Forget Me Not

She offered a stiff, abbreviated curtsy, not pulling free of Lucas’s arm.

“Would you like a moment’s privacy to offer your father a farewell?” he asked.

“My father bid me farewell a week ago,” she answered.

No matter her appearance of indifference, the pain beneath her calm façade was unmistakable. Lucas hadn’t the first idea what to say. She was hurting, his dear friend, his childhood playmate, Stanley’s beloved sister. She was miserable, and Lucas could do nothing to alleviate that.

He handed her up into the carriage before turning back to face his parents. His smile was likely a little strained.

Father shook his hand. “Proud of you, son. I know this wasn’t an easy thing, but it’ll be for the best. I’m sure of it.”

Mother pulled him into an embrace. “Be patient with her, Lucas.”

“Of course,” he said.

“And come back and visit now and then. A year away was far too long.”

He held his mother for a drawn-out moment. He had missed her fiercely while on the Continent. He would miss her again while he was at Brier Hill.

“Now”—Mother stepped back, blinking suspiciously—“off with you. No more of these emotional displays.”

He grinned, knowing perfectly well hers was the display she was objecting to. Lucas folded himself through the carriage door—a feat when one was noticeably taller than the average Englishman—and sat on the rear-facing seat directly across from his wife.His wife.Would that ever stop being a surprising turn of phrase? The footman closed the door. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward.

Julia kept stoically still. She didn’t look back at her father as they pulled away from Lampton Park. Neither did she turn in the direction of her lifelong home as they passed it. She also didn’t so much as glance at Lucas.

Was this anger? Fear? Sadness? While he couldn’t confidently assign an emotion to her stiff detachment, he knew one thing for certain: he would go mad if forced to spend the entirety of their journey to Brier Hill like this.

“Have you ever been to Cumberland?” he asked.

“I have not.”

Here was a topic they could pursue without fear of pitfalls. “It is gorgeous. Lakes and tall mountains. I have traveled across the width and breadth of it these past eight years and have yet to see any corner that isn’t breathtaking. And it borders on Northumberland, which is beautiful as well.

“Have you traveled up into Scotland?” she asked.

“Many times.” Yes, this was proving a good topic to introduce. “A few of those trips have included the Highlands, even the Hebrides. Amazing.”

He couldn’t tell what her precise thoughts were on that observation, but she didn’t abandon the conversation. That was encouraging. “Did you travel to the coast?”

He nodded. “The Cumberland coast to the west. I even crossed Northumberland and Yorkshire to see the coast on the east as well. And a schoolmate of mine lives in Cornwall, so I’ve made a jaunt or two to the south.”

“And you spent time in Europe,” she added.

He was warming quickly to this subject matter. “France. Belgium. Italy. Switzerland. I wanted to travel to the Nordic lands, but we ran short of time on this trip.”

“All of that traveling in eight years,” she said. “Yet I saw you only once and only because my brother was dead.”

Though she spoke softly, the thrust hit its mark. “I came back home a few times, but you were in Berkshire visiting your cousins.”

“Ah, Berkshire,” she said wistfully. “The ‘Nordic countries’ of England. So close, yet never quite making the schedule.”

He didn’t know whether to smile at the clever turnabout or groan in frustration. Sorting the difficulty between them might be harder than he’d told Kes it would be. Humor seemed his best approach. “Oh, sweeting”—he used the pet name he’d employed from the time she was little—“where we’re going hits far closer to that mark than Berkshire. Brier Hill sits in an isolated corner of a fairly isolated county. We’ve few neighbors, fewer visitors, and only a small number of diversions. By Christmastime, I fully expect you to be begging me to take myself off somewhere.”

“I would be willing to do that now, if you’d prefer.”

He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he spied the tiniest, most miniscule hint of a smile tug at her lips. If there was one thing Lucas couldn’t resist, it was making someone smile. “Nothing would delight me more,” he said.

She bit down her lips. Oh, she was fighting a smile, no doubt about that. He wouldn’t push his luck any further but tucked away the moment of triumph. Perhaps the situation was not as hopeless as he feared.

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