Page 92 of Grave Expectations
I rested my head against the cool, gray stones of the house. "I can't believe this is happening."
Seth put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. "It'll be all right. He just needs to calm down. He'll change his mind soon enough."
I no longer felt as confident. Lincoln was a stubborn man, and very adept at burying his emotions. But I had to hold out hope. After all, he did want me to go to the school so he'd know where to find me. If nothing else, I had to believe that he would fetch me one day. Perhaps even tomorrow, after he'd calmed down.
The rumble of wheels on gravel had all of us turning.
"It better not be someone from the committee," Gus said, squinting at the approaching coach.
"It be a hansom," Cook said.
"Not a hansom," Seth said. "Looks like a growler."
The two-horse coach pulled up at the front steps and Lincoln climbed out of the cabin. He paused when he saw me, then approached, his hands at his back. His eyes, half hooded beneath heavy lids, were blacker than London's bleakest night sky.
"It's time," he said stiffly. "Fetch your coat and gloves." He went to walk off, but I stepped in front of him.
I grasped his shoulders. "Stop it, Lincoln. Stop this at once. It's wrong and you know it."
He prised my fingers off and let my hands go. "No, Charlie. It was wrong of me to allow you to stay and let it get to this point. I should have sent you away months ago."
My tears, never far from the surface, welled again. "Don't say that," I whispered. "Don't pretend there's nothing between us."
"I know you feel hurt right now, but it will pass. You'll thank me one—"
"Thank you!" I stepped toward him but he stepped back. I drew in a shuddery breath and took strength from Seth's encouraging nod. "I love you, Lincoln, and sending me away won't stop me loving you. A year in the north won't stop me loving you, nor will a lifetime on the continent."
"Enough! You're only making it harder."
"If it's hard, then don't do it!"
He strode off toward the front steps and Gus pushed me after him. Gathering the shreds of my remaining strength, I picked up my skirts and raced up the steps. Once again I blocked his path.
He regarded me levelly, coolly, as if there'd never been heated kisses between us, or plans made to spend a lifetime together. It was like those first few days after my arrival at Lichfield all over again.
"This is Lady Harcourt's doing, isn't it?" I snapped. "She said something to you yesterday that made you doubt our relationship."
"It has nothing to do with her."
"She wants you for herself, Lincoln. You know that. That is behind everything she says and does."
"This has nothing to do with her," he repeated. "It's entirely my decision." He picked me up and deposited me out of the way.
When his hands left my waist, I went to slap him. He caught my wrist. We stood like that, so close that he must have been able to hear my heart thundering. It sounded deafening to me.
"Please, Lincoln," I whispered as my tears spilled. "Don't do this." I had promised myself that I wouldn't beg, but I was desperate now. Dignity be damned.
The muscles in his face slackened. He blinked rapidly and his lips parted ever so slightly. For that one brief moment I thought he had come to his senses. I caught a glimpse of his true self through the tiny crack in his mask.
Then his mouth shut and every muscle tensed. He let me go and marched into the house.
Seth ran after him, Gus at his heels, but after a few angry shouts that garnered no response from Lincoln, they returned. Cook drew me into a hug. He smelled of oranges. Another hand rested on my shoulder.
Nobody spoke.
Doyle came out with my trunk and passed it up to the coachman who secured it to the roof. He bowed to me, unsmiling. "Safe journey, miss. I'll keep the place in order until your return."
I opened my mouth to thank him, but no words came out. I offered him a smile, but it was weak and unconvincing.
