Page 78 of A Misguided Devotion

“You doubt it?”

“I don’t know. At first, I couldn’t see why Hugh would support Laura’s story if it were not true. But I’ve seen how desperate he is to make you his son-in-law, and it made me wonder if he had backed his daughter’s tale to hide her indiscretion. You would have every right to walk away from a match with Laura if she was secretly meeting Mr Jenkin at night. But after today—”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“Maybe, and if the story about the madman is true, Hugh needs Blake to look after Cousin Silas. I don’t suppose there are many servants who would accept such a role.”

“You reckon Mr Barrington might overlook Blake’s sympathy with the smugglers because of his usefulness?”

“It’s possible.”

William suppressed a sigh. He wished they could ride away from all this, but the reins of duty and honour prevented them. “We ought to catch up with Miss Barrington before we’re missed. There’s a flat stretch of land to the right. We can canter along there with no risk of falling off the island.”

She nodded, and they rode together across the heathland. It was glorious, feeling the wind in their faces.

William drew his horse to a halt just short of where Miss Barrington was riding at a snail’s pace. He waited for Kitty, who was laughing as she joined him.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” he said.

“I had forgotten how much I liked to ride.”

“How could you forget?”

“Sometimes it’s best not to remember.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I sold my horse to help pay for Edward’s commission. He would have entered the army as a regular soldier, but it wouldn’t have been right. He was made to command, and I was happy to sacrifice my mount to make sure he got that chance.”

Once more, putting another’s needs before her own. Unlike him. “You must love your brother very much.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“On this earth? Only God knows. I dare not hope for his survival when so many have fallen. I’ve found it easier to cope with the downs of life by not expecting too much of it.”

“Whereas I expect a lot—and am often disappointed. But I believe that is preferable to living without hope.”

“I didn’t say I have no hope. Only that I don’t expect too much of this life. I expect plenty from the next. A paradise where there is no more sickness or sadness or death or separation. Don’t you hold on to that too? Especially when times are hard?”

“I suppose I’ve become too focused on getting what I want from this life to think much about the hereafter.”

“Perhaps it’s time to realign your thinking.”

As they rode back to Rufus House, William thought about what Kitty had said. She had sounded so like his father that it made her words doubly profound. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, whereas Kitty’s life had been riddled with hardship and loss. What difficulties had he ever faced apart from a few thwarted ambitions?

Until now—when he was being coerced into a marriage he didn’t want.

If he could honourably back away without offering for Miss Barrington, he would enlist Anthony’s assistance to extricate him, but he could not. His own reckless flirting had led to this. Kitty had urged him to leave, but he had stayed. For the portrait.

His success as an artist would be assured, but at what cost? A lifetime with a woman he did not love. Who did not care about him or his painting, or anything that mattered to him. Miss Barrington was a blank canvas, already covered with varnish. You couldn’t paint on that. Their future together would be empty. It wasn’t worth it. How could he have been so slow to realise?

No amount of artistic acclaim could eradicate the emptiness ahead of him. A life devoid of the warmth that had flooded him when Kitty smiled at him that morning. A warmth that he now craved with his entire being.

What was it his mother said to him on the day his uncle died? That he would know he was in love when he cared more for that lady than for his painting.

Kitty was that lady.