“I know. But I refuse to believe it won’t work. Too many things have been snatched away, Scott. I can’t bear the thought of this being taken too.”
“This will work somehow. I’m determined it will.”
“I wish you lived closer to Houghton Manor. At least I would see you while we were waiting.”
That brought a thought to mind. “The Duke of Kielder pointed out that such a complicated tenancy plan as we are contemplating at Thimbleby will be doomed to fall apart if overseen from several counties away. He has suggested I consider living there instead of at Sarvol House.”
Gillian looked up at him. “Thimbleby is not terribly far from Houghton Manor.”
The idea seemed to lighten her mind and heart. Perhaps taking His Grace’s advice was his best option. That would mean leaving Sarvol House, the last bit of his father he still held on to. It would mean leaving the Jonquils, who had become like brothers to him. It would mean leaving Mater, the only mother he still had in his life. And leaving Sarah just as he’d begun to forge a connection with her again.
“Why do you look sad, Scott? Do you not wish to live at Thimbleby?”
“Being closer to you would be a wonderful thing, Gillian.”
She stepped back enough to slip from his embrace but took both of his hands instead. “Tell me, Scott. Trust me enough.”
“Sarvol House was my father’s home.” His voice broke as he spoke the words. He’d not been expecting that.
Gillian reached up and gently touched his cheek. He closed his eyes as he’d seen her do so many times in an effort to push ahead with something difficult.
“The last thing he spoke to me was about this house and how much he wished he could see it again, could be here again. It’s already in disrepair, suffering from neglect. I’ve closed up nearly all of it. It feels almost dead. To abandon it entirely would be like . . .” He couldn’t finish the thought.
“Like losing him all over again?” Gillian finished for him. “I felt that way, leaving our house when I went to live with Mrs. Brownlow. It was where my entire life with my mother was spent.”
He opened his eyes once more. “The thought of not seeing you for months, years at a time . . . I can’t bear that either.”
Her smile was melancholy. “Do you suppose it’s actually true that few things are as hopeless as we fear they are?”
Scott leaned forward, resting his forehead to hers. “If I promise to believe there’s some answer to my worries, will you promise to believe there’s an answer to yours?”
She pressed the briefest kiss to his lips. “I promise.”
Fate seemed determined to tear them apart. And fate, history had shown him, was not always kind.
There seemed to be no good choices for them, no path through the coming years of waiting and struggle that didn’t end with some degree of heartache.
Chapter Thirty-one
Scott returned to the dowerhouse that evening. He’d not wanted to leave, but a dinner was being held at Lampton Park, and he’d needed to dress for it. Philip and his wife would be hosting the evening, but Mater, Scott suspected, had arranged it all. She would be there, of course, along with Gillian and Mrs. Brownlow. Layton and his wife meant to attend as well. Harold and Sarah would round out the guest list. It would be the perfect welcome to the neighborhood for Gillian, a chance to meet the people who, in time, would be her neighbors.
Mater met him in the sitting room. “Your sweetheart is nervous, Scott. And I suspect she has been crying.”
“Life has been unkind to her lately. For years, really.”
Empathy filled the dear lady’s eyes. “All of my daughters-in-law have come to our family with difficult histories. It breaks my heart to think she will as well.”
“You mean to think of her as your daughter-in-law when the time comes?”
“Of course. You have been one of my boys ever since you were little. You would come to Lampton Park to beg sweets from Lucas and bring me flowers you pulled from our gardens.”
Scott laughed at the memory. “I loved being with your family, and not merely because it meant I wasn’t spending time with my uncle.”
“Is there anything I can do for your sweetheart, Scott?” Mater asked.
“She needs to feel wanted, and she needs to feel part of a family.”
Mater smiled. “The Jonquils are remarkably good at that.”