‘I don’t see the connection.’

‘I wanted you to think well of me.’

He wanted to believe her. It would mean that she cared for his opinion.

‘But then you realised it was not a mistake on your part. Why didn’t you tell me then?’

‘I wanted to.’

It was not the reply he wanted to hear. A desire without action meant nothing. He drew her still closer, until she was forced to place her hand on his chest. They had not touched like this since he had kissed her. He had taken their embrace no further as he was a gentleman. Anger at the injustice all around him, where a man can act so despicably and walk away unscathed, where a woman can humiliate her fiancé and live without recriminations, where a man can love a woman to distraction and she not trust his love to share her deepest concerns. He drew Grace closer still, until he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. She did not try to pull away. He wanted her to feel what he was feeling — to see his pain reflected in her eyes. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

‘But you didn’t tell me.’

Her taut body softened against him. ‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted Henry to tell you.’

‘Your decision gave him the chance to flee.’

She lifted her chin from his touch. ‘I didn’t know he would do that.’

He stepped back from her, her hand still locked in his grasp. ‘While he courted Amelia, you sat back and did not raise your concerns with me. You allowed him access to my vulnerable sister, knowing what he was doing behind our backs.’

‘That’s not true!’ Grace jerked her arm away and stepped back, her face beautifully radiant with the indignation. He was glad her sympathy had turned to fire. This he could face.

‘I asked you to marry me, but you are no different to Margaret. You are just as deceitful.’

‘Henry deceived you. The blame should be laid at his door, not mine.’

He watched Grace crouch on the floor and begin to pick up the mess he had made. He had the urge to warn her not to cut herself on the broken glass, but stamped it down.

‘Leave it. The servants can clear it.’ Grace ignored him. ‘I’m under no illusion of Henry’s part in this,’ he said to her bowed head, ‘but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t lay all the blame on him. He succeeded because those around him remained silent. The workers he involved were, at best ignorant, at worst under orders and fearful for their jobs. If Margaret knew, she is his wife and duty bound to stand by him, although I suspect she is oblivious to his dealings. She never showed any interest in the clay industry as long as her comforts were met. I see no reason why she should have changed now.’ Grace stood and placed some of the fallen objects onto his desk. ‘However, I cannot so easily accept the role my fiancée played.’ Grace remained calm. It was as if she knew he needed to voice his anger and frustration and was prepared to wait and take it until he fell silent with exhaustion. He both admired and hated her strength. ‘I’m talking about you. I loved you. I thought you loved me or at least would have come to love me. Yet you kept silent and did not warn me.’

‘I did love you and still do.’

‘Then why?’

Her steady defiant gaze was faltering. Unease coiled in his stomach. She was holding something back.

‘I’ve told you why I did not tell you.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Her soft pink lips, which were normally so inviting, tightened under his gaze. ‘You are keeping something from me.’ Grace looked away. Her movement sealed any doubts he had about her. ‘The sad thing is, does it really matter any more?’ For the first time he saw uncertainty in her eyes. ‘My sister is vulnerable and I need to know that the people around her can be trusted. Unfortunately, I no longer trust you.’ Her eyes began to glisten. ‘I think you should leave.’ Finally he could see his pain in her eyes. It should please him to know she hurt too, but it did not.

He turned away. ‘I want you to leave today.’

‘So soon?’ asked Grace, quietly.

He braced himself. ‘There is no point in trying to nurture something back to life that is dead.’

He heard the rustle of her dress as she turned to go. He needed her to leave today, quickly, before he changed his mind.

He closed his eyes. The door opened and he heard her walk away. She had not asked to stay, and it was only then, when he finally found himself in the solitude he had earlier sought, that he hoped that she might.

* * *

Grace thanked the driver and climbed down from the trap. Amelia had insisted on providing her transport and Talek had neither agreed nor refused her request. Grace wasn’t sure what hurt her the most, that Talek had not wanted to ensure her safe arrival home or his apparent indifference how she left. He had remained in his study and Grace felt his excision of her from his life had already begun.

Kellow Dairy had not changed in her absence and she was glad of it. The familiar routine of the empty wagons returning to the dairy after the safe delivery of their loads, pulled by weary horses keen for hay and water, formed the comforting, familiar routine that made up her childhood. And that is how she felt, like a child seeking comfort from the ones she loved most and who knew her the best. She entered the yard, and although she was acutely aware of the workers turning their heads as she passed, strangely she did not care. She could bear the humiliation of being known as the result of rape, if it meant she could see the one person she needed the most right now.

Daniel Kellow was talking to one of the drivers, his hand unconsciously stroking the horse’s neck as he spoke, when he saw Grace approaching over the man’s shoulder. His hand paused. He said something to the man, who looked over his shoulder at her and immediately stepped aside. Grace’s throat felt raw with unshed tears. Whilst her mother had been her counsellor and emotional comfort throughout her life, it was her father who had been her mentor and protector. She had always felt safe with him and it was his protection and his common sense she needed. How would he see her now? The daughter who had spurned all the love he had given her or the cuckoo in the nest that finally showed her true colours and was no different to the selfish man who had sired her.

Daniel watched her approach. His brows were a little more grooved than she remembered and a faint shadow lingered beneath both eyes. Yet in his eyes there was a ghost of hope and when he widened his arms, a sob escaped her as she ran into his embrace.

Chapter Eighteen

Her father did not press her to talk. Perhaps that is why she had sought him out as his calm ways and few words gave her the space and time she so desperately needed. Instead he silently led her from the yard of prying eyes and took her home. Her mother saw them approaching and ran out to greet them in the lane. Her steps slowed as she approached and saw that Grace was crying. Taking Daniel’s lead, she did not question her, but hugged her tightly. Grace saw her parents’ exchange of worried glances and took comfort in it. Her parents often did this, their love and knowledge of one another was so deep-seated that words were not always necessary. The depth of their love wrapped Grace in a blanket of comfort and reminded her that she was part of that too.

Her mother stepped back and wiped the tears from her cheeks for her.

‘The meadow is looking beautiful today, Grace. Why don’t you and your father go and see it before the sun sets?’

Grace nodded thankfully and her father led her away.

* * *

Grace smiled. The meadow was in preparation for winter, with much of its vibrant wildflowers now past their best and lying dormant. Even so the common toadflax and autumn hawkbit remained defiant against the misty mornings and colder evenings, their scattered bright yellow blooms a dash of vibrancy in the long grass. Bright red rosehip seeds and blue black sloes tempted the wintering birds from the surrounding hedges.

How many times have I run through this meadow of wild flowers? thought Grace. From the age when the flowers were tall enough to reach her shoulders, to now when they barely brushed above her knees. She had spent many hours whiling away the day here, until her mother’s voice carried to her on the breeze and called her home.

Gradually, Grace’s story unfolded. Her father listened, occasionally asking a question for clarification, but nothing more. She did not hold back and at times she found it difficult to explain why she had not told Talek sooner about her mounting concerns. From the advantage of hindsight, from the distance of time, it seemed the logical thing to do, to share your concerns with the man who was employing you, sharing his home with you and who had placed his trust in you. But life is never black and white. Her lack of knowledge of the industry and the people involved, her deep-seated desire to not rock the boat and hide away at Roseland, all played their part. It made a potent mixture where duplicity could thrive and secrets fester. And then there was Amelia, whose hopes, dreams and disability made even the clearest choices difficult to unravel. And then there was her own secret she was trying to hide. Yet despite everything, it would have been better to be honest from the beginning, as then her heart would not hurt as much as it did now.

‘Talek cannot bear to look at me. I’ve betrayed him and he will never forgive me.’

Her father stopped walking and scanned the horizon, his gaze following the irregular cottage roofs of Trehale, as they huddled around a single church tower.

‘Do you feel that you have betrayed him?’ he asked.

‘I do, but it was not to hurt him.’

‘Then why did you?’

‘To save him from unnecessary hurt. If I had told him and it turned out I was wrong, I would have placed doubt in his mind about his business partner, which was a relationship that had worked well until now. And later, if I had told him about Amelia’s part in it, I would have betrayed Amelia.’

‘So you did it with the best intentions?’

Grace nodded. Her father looked at her.