“Oh, wow. That’s great.” So why does it not feel so great, especially when I’d arrived in her office ready to hand in my notice, effective immediately? I can’t claim to be hurt or upset when we both know finding my replacement had become a priority.
A bigger priority after what just happened on the stairs.
“Yes, I interviewed her last week. Not a face-to-face meeting, but over the internet. Her references were excellent, and I’ve just gotten off the phone with her last employer, who was very encouraging.”
“Well, that’s just great. Really great. I’m happy for you.” Or I’m trying to be.
“The only thing is she can’t start for two weeks. Do you think you’ll be able to carry on until then?”
“I . . .” am in trouble, but how can I say no when Isla has enough worries of her own? How can I tell her two weeks’ notice is too much unless she wants to take the chance her sons might get the kind of education not available at school? Dammit. “Of course.” I am so incredibly screwed. “Yes, of course I can.” I add what I hope is a bright smile as I blunder on, “but I’m sorry to have to tell you that I’ll be moving on completely then.”
“You mean, from the education centre?” Isla looks visibly shocked.
“Yes.” I guess I’m really doing this. “I’m sorry for the short notice, but I really feel it’s for the best.”
“Things are . . .?”
“Nothing has changed,” I say quietly, folding my hands in my lap. “You can’t blame—it’s not just his fault.” My words hit the air in staccato bursts and probably don’t make a lot of sense. “Argh! I hate crying.” Though I find myself doing just that as, a moment later, a box of tissues appears on my lap. “I have to go,” I whisper, curling my hand around the box like it’s a life vest. “I really can’t stay. I know this is for the best.”
“You don’t . . . like Sandy in that way?”
“I think the problem is I like him a little too much, but please don’t tell him I said that.” I hide my horrified expression behind a super soft tissue scented with eucalyptus.
“I would never betray your confidence,” Isla replies sincerely. “But I will say that I’m relieved it isn’t a case of him making it uncomfortable for you here.”
“No.” I swallow. “That’s not it,” I murmur, not quite able to hold her gaze. “I just know that if I stay here, no good will come of it.” No good can come of a twenty-four-year-old girl from Mookatill and a peer of the realm—a duke, no less.
It’s just not possible.
“Sandy will be very upset to hear you’re leaving us,” she says carefully. “As we all will be, myself and the boys especially.”
“That’s nice to hear.” And bittersweet in the extreme. I’ll miss Archie and Hugh and Isla. I just can’t contemplate anything else but being far away from Alexander right now. The temptation is just too great. And I know he’ll be upset—though at first, he’ll be super pissed. Whatever reaction he has to the news will be genuine because it’s not like there hasn’t been anything between us. It’s just that what is between us isn’t enough. And it never will be.
“You know, Sandy hasn’t shown interest in anyone in—”
I hold up my hand as I roll in my lips. My heart hurts, and my head thunders. I don’t need to hear what she has to say because this cannot be. I like Alexander—I like him way more than I should—but I don’t know him. Not really.
I know the sum of his parts. That he’s brutally good-looking, and he looks amazing in a pair of jodhpurs, in a suit, or a kilt. I also know my favourite memory ever will be the one when he’s wearing nothing but a sheet and a satisfied grin. Because the image is indelibly inked onto my brain. I know he’s comfortable in his own skin in a way I’ll never be, that he’s smart, and he’s charming, at least, he is when he wants to be. He can be an arrogant ass, and I can secretly dig it, though I’d never admit it out loud. And I know that his tongue should come with a warning label with a list of possible side effects ranging from a first-rate swoon to a loss of brain cells.
I know he loves his family, that he’d do anything for them. That he looks after the people who work for him. I know that he’s kind and honourable and principled, just as a man of his station ought to be. And that’s where I come to a stumbling block the size of Ben Nevis. Because I’m just a girl from a worn-looking house in a small town, still trying to find her way in the world. I don’t have what he needs, not beyond the physical aspects of our relationship