Page 68 of My Fair Lord

He laughed at the sight of Ned’s astonishment then walked off, whistling.

ChapterNineteen

After a light dinner of curried mutton and a glass of passable Tokay, Ned found Florence sitting in the stateroom with a pot of coffee. Her eyes were slightly pink but other than that she looked perfectly composed, if a little morose. She was reading a book but her glasses had slipped down her nose a little and he suspected it was a show of indifference.

Ned’s arrival clearly did nothing to lift her mood because she looked at him, then immediately away.

“May I join you, Miss Wakechild?” Ned asked, hesitating beside the table.

“If you like.” She gestured listlessly to the chair. Ned sat, but before he could speak Florence started talking.

“Mr Blake, I’m so sorry I am awful. The things I accused you of are absolutely atrocious. I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself and if you choose to return home immediately, I will not blame you.”

Ned sat back in the chair. He had not expected an apology and he felt completely disarmed. A little confused, too, because now he had to suddenly rethink how he intended to speak. Florence obviously felt the silence still signalled anger because she twisted her hands in her lap, screwing up the folds of her skirt.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” she said in a small voice. “The fault is all mine.”

Her mouth wobbled and she gave a little sniff. Ned’s stomach twisted in contrition. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if she began to cry. The sight of her so distressed and so openly taking the blame was unbearable.

He understood now why he had been so aghast at Florence believing he was in love with Dottie. It wasn’t just because the accusation had come out of nowhere and seemed so outlandish, it was because he now realised that he was in love with Florence. He couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t seen it before but now that the revelation had hit him, he was hopeless to ignore it. He was Adam tasting the fruit of Eden and seeing Eve for the woman she was. And like their fall, the knowledge was a burden and a tragedy he would have to bear for the rest of his living years.

“Florence…” He reached out and touched her briefly on the forearm.

Her eyes flickered towards the open door that led to the bedroom. Ned hastily removed his hand. He dropped his eyes, glad she had issued the reminder before he said something reckless. He smiled gently, the words he needed to say coming easily to his lips.

“We are both at fault. Yours is that you are so certain of yourself that you don’t entertain the possibility of an alternative explanation and jump to conclusions.”

“Well, the last time I jumped to a conclusion it was that you were going to go fight Mr Rafferty at the fair and I was right,” Florence said, jutting her chin out.

“No, the last conclusion you jumped to was that I was in love with your maid,” Ned corrected, giving her a stern look.

“Well, the next to last conclusion was correct,” she said grudgingly. “Now tell me your fault as you have pointed out mine.”

“Mine is that I make unwise decisions and then justify them to myself. I didn’t have to take advantage of the valet. I did it because I wanted to. That was an accusation you levelled fairly.”

“It was about the only one,” Florence said. “You can of course do whatever you want with your talents. Your life is not mine to command. I don’t think you should become a waiter or a banker, however. And please don’t start fraudulently masquerading as an aristocrat. I’m sure there are many other women, as you say…”

She shuddered then gave a loud sob.

Ned couldn’t bear it any longer. He leaned forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“There are no other women like you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. He wasn’t even sure she heard him, but she reached her hands around his back and held him tight.

She sobbed silently as she clung to him, her frame shaking with the force of her emotions. Ned held on tightly, determined to give whatever solace he could until she was calm again, but his heart was thumping fit to burst and each fresh shake of emotion sent him down a well of misery. He shouldn’t be holding her. At any moment, Lady Griggs could walk into the room and see them, but he couldn’t bear to let her go.

It was Florence who severed the embrace by loosening her grip on him. Recognising the gesture signalled the end of their closeness, Ned released her. She smiled and dabbed at her eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a handkerchief,” she mumbled. She raised her eyes to Ned and gave him a faint smile. “After the trouble your previous one caused, I hate to ask but I don’t suppose…”

Ned laughed softly at her feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere. He pulled a fresh one from his pocket, wondering if he should patent a small box to carry multiple of them in for such eventualities. She dabbed discreetly at her eyes then blew her nose thoroughly.

“Miss Wakechild, I really must ask you to pardon my reaction to the talk of what I shall do once we part. My future is playing somewhat on my mind and the thought of this venture coming to an end brings it into sharp relief. The outcome of the situation is beyond my control. It’s something I hoped would have been concluded by now. The weight is heavy on me, but it will lessen once I know which path I must walk.”

“I understand,” Florence said. “I’m not feeling at my most level-headed and I think that has affected my ability to reason. I do not like this part of me which immediately fears the worst. I know it is there, but when it rears up, I am unable to identify it until too late. I don’t know myself very well, I’m afraid.”

Ned found himself thinking that she knew herself much better than she gave herself credit for, but it wasn’t his place to comment.

“We both said some things that I’m sure we regret. Let’s put them behind us.”