Page 6 of A Tryst By the Sea
“I was on the beach, and I saw some fellow spying on me from the path. I thought it best to retreat to the cottage before he intruded on my solitude, and now I find him intruding on my very sofa.”
Penelope was being shrewish, but of all the inns on all the shores in all the realm… What was Summertondoinghere?
He hung his hat on a peg near the door, then crossed the room to the window that overlooked the terrace. “You were supposed to be at the Hall. Are you expecting company, perhaps?”
“I came here for solitude.”
“I’ll leave you to your solitude, then, but first might you join me for supper at the inn?”
His lordship had always been one to mind appearances, and husband and wife eating separately would look uncongenial indeed.
“You rode down from London?”
He remained by the window, gazing out at a sparkling ocean. “My wife told me she was nipping off to the family seat, leaving me all alone as Town filled up. I bethought myself, ‘I have no wish to idle about here on my own for the next fortnight.’ I made up some taradiddle about visiting my brother and his yodeling horde of prodigies, whom I saw and heard plenty of at Yuletide. I took myself here instead.”
Summerton looked tired, not merely road weary. “Why make up a taradiddle, my lord?”
He slanted a look at her over his shoulder, and why had the Almighty made Vergilius Summers equally attractive when viewed from any perspective? A raging injustice, that.
“Why did you make up a taradiddle, my lady?”
Because I could not tell you honestly that I was leaving you.“Easier, I suppose, than explaining why I’d want to be alone.”At this time of year.
“It’s still hard, isn’t it?” He considered the sea as he posed his question. “I expect it always will be.”
“But not as terrible a grief as it once was.”These things happen. Penelope had nearly voiced the platitude that had driven her to thundering her way through Beethoven finales at the piano and poring over seating arrangements by the hour.
“You don’t believe that.” Summerton spoke quietly, and Penelope joined him at the window, the better to see his expression.
She resisted a wayward urge to slip an arm around his waist. She’d tried making overtures. Hugging Vergilius when he was all remote and broody was like hugging an obelisk. Granite was more inclined to cuddle than his lordship if he was preoccupied with his own concerns.
“I don’t believe it,” Penelope said, rather than argue for form’s sake. They’d passed through an arguing phase many years ago. She hadn’t cared for it at all. “I can leave you in peace to finish your nap. I will resume my constitutional and inquire at the inn about getting you a room for the night.”
“I’ve slept enough for now. Might I join you on this constitutional?”
What was he up to? “I am truly here alone, my lord. The last thing I’d seek in this location is an adulterous assignation.” The last thing she’d seek,period.
“Likewise, I’m sure. Let me get my boots, and we can take this discussion to the out of doors.”
Penelope did not want to takethis discussionanywhere, but perhaps fate had served her a good turn after all this time. Sneaking off to the coast under false colors had been intended to avoid an honest explanation to Summerton of her plans.
To avoid a final confrontation, even when confrontation was the more honorable course. Maybe here, at the Siren’s Retreat, Penelope could find the courage to speak truthfully to her husband. They could not go on as they had been, and the time had come for them both to admit that.
His lordship pulled on his boots and donned his jacket. “I am not in the first stare, I know, but part of what I like about this place is its sense of informality. One feels welcome here, not on display for the benefit of the gossips.”
“One does. You have dust…” Penelope swatted gently at his cravat, though the result was far from pristine. Too late she realized that her fussing was wifely, and she’d lost the habit of being wifely with his lordship.
This cottage, and the memories it held, were to blame for her lapse.
His lordship caught her hand, placed it on his arm, and swept a gesture toward the door. “The splendors of the sea await us, my lady. Let’s hunt for pretty shells and get our toes wet.”
He smiled as he extended that invitation, and when he smiled, Lord Summerton was powerfully attractive—also when he did not smile. Penelope decided to enjoy that attractiveness for just a little while on the beach, because tonight at supper was soon enough to inform her husband that their marriage—long over in truth—was past due to be officially interred.
I want us to start afresh.Gill mentally tried on those words as he and Penelope wound down the trail to the beach. Except that starting afresh implied erasing the past ten years, reducing them to a wrong turn on an unfamiliar bridle path.
I want us to try harder.Seeing the fatigue in Penelope’s eyes and the sadness, Gill knew she’d been trying as hard as he had to keep their dealings civil. They were to have supper together, after all, something that hadn’t happened outside of formal entertainments for years.
Inspiration struck as they gained the wide sandy beach. “I want to find you a pretty shell,” Gill said. “Another ormer to go with the one I found last time.”
