The Vanishing at Loxby Manor by Abigail Wilson (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

“Please don’t say that.”

“Say what? The truth? We both know all too well that life is short, and I’ve done a fine job of wasting what I’ve been given thus far.”

He shifted his position on the bench, the honesty in his eyes betraying the thoughts he wanted so desperately to string together.“Charity . . . I need to tell you something.”

I had a moment of cringing anxiety deep within my core, but as we sat there staring at each other, the feeling ebbed away.

Then his words spilled out. “I’ve spent the last five years trying to forget you. I told myself it was noble I stayed away,that I was sparing you the awkward moment of refusing me, but I was a coward to do so. This thing between us has never beensimple, and I know now it will never go away, not for me at least.”

A gust of wind came so unexpectedly over the garden wall, rushing through the plants, that I pulled away from him, my father’swords echoing in my mind. “A sign of things to come.”

He held out his hand. “Please don’t go, not yet. Regardless of what you think of me when I am finished, I know in my heartI cannot leave for the duel without saying everything on my mind.”

I nodded, and he closed his eyes for a long second.

Silently I watched him fight the intense vulnerability I knew so well, and my heart shifted. It wasn’t only that I had finallygrasped the depths of his compassion; it was the stark realization that I had been given a rare gift—a man who understoodthe intertwining layers of guilt and shame and hope and pain. He was my equal in every way.

He glanced up. “The incredible truth is, I thought I loved you back then. I know now I had no concept of what that meant, what life would bring to the both of us. You’ve shared with me your unspeakable nightmare. We’ve mourned my sister together. We share a history no one on this earth can understand but us. This is love, Charity, not what society dictates or some fluttery feeling in my chest, which I assure you is growing inside me with every word I speak.”

He took my hands again. “Love is you and me deciding to stand at each other’s side to face whatever comes.” He trailed histhumb along the lines of my hand. “It’s thinking about you every second, aching to see you when we are not together, knowingeach other’s faults and choosing patience time and again. It’s forgetting the past, all the terrible details that weigh usdown. It’s forgiving ourselves and each other over and over again.”

My heart felt unfamiliar, a remnant of another time and place, my muscles tightening and twisting throughout my body, butI knew without a doubt I had no intention of moving one inch away. I loved Piers Cavanagh with all my heart, and he was right.I wanted everything he’d said. Fear of the past or even the future could not steal the hope I felt stirring in my chest, notanymore.

He ran his finger around my hairline and rested his hand at the back of my neck. His touch was familiar yet terrifying andcaptivating all at once. The very intimacy I’d run from for five long years turned out to be so utterly different from whatI’d expected. A tint of embarrassment warmed my cheeks, and my hands quivered beneath his touch.

He dipped his head. “I promise you I’ll not take one step for granted. I can wait forever if that’s what it takes.” He gaveme a rueful smile. “After all, there’s nobody waiting to marry me.”

I lifted my chin. “That’s where you are wrong . . . I am.”

A smile transformed his face, his eyes brilliant in the afternoon sun, the tendrils of his hair fluttering in the hands ofa spirited breeze.

“Charity.”

I wasn’t certain if he’d spoken my name aloud, for it felt more like a soft whisper on my skin.

My heart pitched forward, and I can’t say I know exactly what happened, but I know it must have been me who moved first. Piersnever would have done so.

All at once my lips were pressed to his. And slowly, cautiously, deliciously, his arms wrapped tight around my shoulders,inching me closer and closer still. My head swam as my hands felt their way up his back. I’d dreamed of such a day for solong, but I could not have anticipated the overwhelming freedom that one simple kiss wrought about in my soul. As I meltedinto his arms, I was lost in the stirring moment of hope. I knew without a doubt I’d taken the first step in overcoming thatwhich I never thought I could.

The wind curled once more around the small garden, and I yearned for Piers never to let go, but we could not stay there forever.Gently he pulled back, holding me at arm’s length.

“I am sorry, but I have to go.”

Fear numbed my arms, but my fingers curled tighter on his arm. “Do you indeed plan to delope?”

He gave me no sign of emotion. “Of course I do. I’ll send word as soon as the duel is complete. Avery is bringing Dr. Knight.I’ll overnight again in Eastward, but only if I need to.”

I gripped his arm. “What about Lord Kendal?”

“Don’t fool yourself, Charity. Lord Kendal has been waiting for this duel for five years, and he always shoots to kill.”

Chapter 27

Piers and Avery left an hour later to little fanfare. Mrs. Cavanagh chose not to emerge from her room to say goodbye, andPiers was forced to visit her in her chamber. I only prayed she said nothing of our prior conversation.

Thus, the secluded evening ushered in the first supper since I’d arrived at Loxby Manor where I dined completely alone. Bakerseemed to sense the tension in the house and did his best to ease the strange, palpable quiet of the dining room, but he couldnot do so completely, not when I sat alone at the large symmetrical table.

With dinner disposed