Page 10 of On a Midsummer Night
But in the end, it had been a lie. And the ripples of that lie had not stopped.
Rather than telling her this, suppressing the urge to reveal the horrible truth that had called him from Bristol and chased away any chance he might ever have to feel anything other than bitterness, fear, and anger, he sighed.
“Life happened, Beth. Whoever told you it would always be happy?”
* * *
Beth watched Henry walk down the terrace steps and disappear into the gardens. The desire to follow after him was overwhelming. She twisted her hands into fists as she recalled how she had thrown his parents’ marriage into his face as if he were not still mourning his father’s death. What a monstrous thing for her to do.
Yet he was so vexing. Beth still saw sparks of that young man who had so deftly won her heart, but the calm, detached effect he had adopted infuriated her. He was older now, and it showed. Henry was more imposing, more intense, so handsome he sent her pulse skittering with a look. But he seemed determined to bury that charismatic young man he had once been, as he had buried his father.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and Beth pressed the palms of her hands to her cheeks as she sought to calm her emotions. After a few moments, Beth inhaled a shuddering breath and glanced back at the festivities. No one seemed to have noticed that she’d slipped away. Another young woman had happily slipped into her spot at the piano bench, eager to showcase her skills, and Lucy’s dance card had been filled from the moment she’d arrived at the party. Beth had been more circumspect with her dances, so when she saw Henry walk out onto the terrace, she took it as her opportunity to speak with him privately. And what a massive mistake that had been.
Beth wrapped her arms around her waist. She could return to the party, with Aunt Meredith’s snide comments and Mr. Willoughby’s smothering attentions. Or she could locate Henry and apologize.
Squaring her shoulders, Beth stepped down the terrace steps and traversed the paved walking path into the garden. A sliver of moonlight cut through the hawthorn trees that crisscrossed overhead and illuminated the walk, and it was not long until she found Henry leaning against an arbor post, the canopy entwined with an array of roses.
His back was to her, and she wasn’t certain if he heard her approach until he said, “You should know better than to follow a gentleman into the darkness, Beth.”
Her shoulders rose to meet her ears. She did know better, but that had certainly never stopped her before. She took a step closer, her gaze trained on the broad sweep of his shoulders.
“We seem to have a knack for meeting in the dark,” she whispered, the words unbidden.
Henry pivoted then, a moonbeam cutting across his face and casting it in a sinister light. “And I would have thought you learned your lesson last time.”
Heat coiled in her gut, and she bit her lip. “Perhaps,” she finally conceded. “But I wanted to apologize. It was unkind of me to mention your parents’ marriage, and I am sorry.”
“I know you were not trying to be hurtful. Despite the years that have passed, I’m certain of that.” Henry rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Speaking of my father, thinking of him . . . is painful.”
“And I did not mean to cause you more pain.”
He nodded before angling his head away. His silhouette showcased the sharp, strong lines of his profile, and Beth stole a moment to admire it. How was it possible that he’d grown even more striking over the years? Beth had used to think Silas, her former fiancé, was a comely man, but she had been deceiving herself. Attempting to replace Henry in her mind and heart with a cheap counterfeit. Simply standing in his presence brought her blood to a slow boil.
“What did you do for those years you spent in the Welsh countryside?” His deep voice cut through the silent air. “Wander over the hills like an Austen heroine? Try your hand at being a shepherdess?”
A low chuckle escaped her. Beth advanced a step closer to him, her hands knotted behind her waist. “I did do a good deal of walking, sometimes with my mother or father, sometimes alone.” When he snorted, she laughed again. “It is good for the constitution, you know.”
His dark eyes seemed to shine. “And it seems to have done you well. You look . . . healthy.”
A flush swept over her skin, and Beth said a prayer of thanks that the surrounding shadows hid the telltale sign on her cheeks.
“I also revisited old hobbies I had given up when I first came out,” she continued after a moment.
“Like what?”
Beth shrugged. “Sketching. Drawing. Some painting.”
“I wasn’t aware you were an artist.” Henry paused, holding up a hand. “Actually, that’s not true. I know you were talented on the pianoforte, as you exhibited tonight.”
She dipped her head. “Aunt Meredith simply wanted me to entertain the crowd, and she enjoys bragging about my proficiency.”
“Does Lucy not play?”
“She does, but not well.” Beth swayed on her feet. “She has a beautiful singing voice, though. I’m surprised Aunt Meredith hasn’t ordered her to sing for you.”
“I’ve only met your aunt, and I can already imagine her issuing that directive,” he said with a wry smirk.
“Yes, my aunt is determined Lucy will marry well.” Beth cocked her head. “And that means you.”
