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B eing invited to Sandspring House was not only a privilege coveted by most of the neighboring families in Lyme Regis, as Emily’s mother often reminded her, but it was also an opportunity to see one of the most impressive and unusual land formations in the entire country.

A rough staircase had been cut into the limestone that led down to a small stretch of beach, flanked on both sides by two massive limestone pillars. Years of erosion had carved a massive hole into the base of the stone, leaving a natural bridge, with grassy fields on top and rocky shores beneath.

It was really a marvel to see, and the reactions of the guests were perhaps one of the duchess’s favorite joys.

With the late morning sun shining, Emily carefully followed the line of guests down the stone steps.

She couldn’t quite enjoy the natural beauty of this place, however, even with the billowing clouds rolling in from a distance. Her mind was too preoccupied.

Emily couldn’t understand it. Had she imagined the last eight months? Had the words in her letters rearranged themselves by some heartbreaking magic that would lead her to believe that she was in love with a man who nary paid her any attention since his arrival home?

All last night, Allister barely even observed her, let alone said or did anything that resembled he’d remembered anything about their correspondence.

He acted just as he had before his trip and while their encounters had always been friendly, it lacked any sort of deeper connection she had expected to feel upon his return.

It just didn’t make sense.

Careful to keep her footing as she slowly descended the steps, Emily was temporarily distracted from her thoughts when she heard the shrill giggle of Genevieve Cleeves from below.

Peering over Lady Cleeves’s shoulder, she saw Allister smiling and chatting as he helped Genevieve onto the sand below the stone steps.

The young woman blushed at something the duke said, and Emily felt her entire soul wither at the sight.

If only she had exited the house earlier, she might have led the way with him instead of Genevieve.

Another sing-song titter echoed from below, pulling Emily out of her self-pity.

Trying to steal another peek around the people in front of her, but without a railing to lean on, Emily leaned too far and missed the step below.

In a heart-dropping instant, Emily’s foot slipped and she instinctively put up her hands, prepared to tumble down the rocky edge of the limestone cliffs, when a large hand wrapped around her upper arm and pulled her back.

Shaken, she turned to see the sun shining behind the dark silhouette of her savior.

“Easy there.”

“Gregory,” Emily breathed, surprised at how her heart jumped at the sound of his voice.

Wasn’t that always like him? Gregory was always there when she needed him.

It was a welcome distraction from the ache in her heart.

But almost immediately, she felt the weight of her own foolishness as Gregory tucked her hand safely into the crook of his arm as they continued their march down the steps.

“I hope you’re feeling all right?” Gregory asked.

“I am. It was a touch of vertigo. These steps are quite steep,” she said upon finally reaching the sandy bottom.

“They never bothered you before. In fact, I remember a time when you went running down them without missing a step.”

She smirked. Just two summers prior, during one of their walks, Gregory had been in a contrary mood, and in an effort to make him smile, Emily had the idea to tease him into a game of chase.

She had patted him on the shoulder and gone running down the steps, only to find that when she reached the beach, Gregory was still at the top of the stone staircase, arms out wide as if to ask what she was doing.

“I only managed to do that because I thought you were going to chase me.”

“I don’t know why you thought that. I never played games.”

“No, I suppose not. But you had been preoccupied that day. I forget why, however.”

Gregory chuckled.

“I remember. It was because I had just explained my idea to Allister about publishing a series of papers concerning the importance of flora and fauna of the English southwest. He called the idea a waste of paper.”

“He did not understand your vision,” Emily said, smiling at her friend. “Besides, look at you now. Your printing press supports one of the most important scientific papers in the country.”

“I wouldn’t call it important.”

“Oh, but it is! Science is the most important of subjects, second only to history.”

“Perhaps, but the London gossip rags outsell my prints six to one.”

“That may be so, but yours is an honorable pursuit. And personally, I think you should be very proud of yourself. Owning and operating one of the lead scientific journals in the country is something to be proud of.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. Bringing knowledge to the masses, particularly regarding the natural world, is noble.” Gregory’s blue gaze bore into hers and Emily, feeling suddenly exposed for some reason, gazed out over the ocean. She exhaled. “It’s lovely here. It has been far too long since I was here last.”

The salty air whipped around them and for a moment, it felt as if they were the only two on the beach, reminding Emily of the many times they had ventured here alone. It was nice to be in Gregory’s company again and she was surprised at just how much she had missed it.

Glancing up at him, Emily saw something that resembled pity in his eyes and she felt her heart drop. He leaned towards her, and she braced herself as his lowered voice spoke.

“I assume you are still waiting for Allister to speak with you. About the letters.”

“Oh, Gregory, please. It’s obvious I was mistaken about our relationship.” She sighed heavily. “It seems the man who wrote those letters to me was a different person.”

Gregory’s face paled.

“Excuse me?” he choked out.

“The letters. They were written by some other version of Allister, someone who was perhaps lonely abroad and sought to make himself feel better through a fictitious romance.” Bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, Emily watched the small waves as they lapped gently on the shore.

It was warm out and she was pleased that she had worn her lightest, cream-colored gown.

“I cannot expect a man like Allister to settle with someone as unimportant as myself.”

“Don’t say that, Emily.”

“I don’t mean to sound pitiful, but it’s true. After all, what did I expect? For him to come home and proclaim his undying love for me?” She shook her head. “It was a silly notion and I should have realized that our correspondence was no more than a passing fancy.”

Gregory opened his mouth, but then Allister’s voice carried on the wind.

“Gregory! Lord Daplin has found something of interest.”

Seemingly unwilling to leave her, but evidently aware of their audience, Gregory turned and trudged away while Emily’s shoulders slumped.

The servants were just finishing setting up a number of tables, chairs, and tents so that the older guests wouldn’t be beaten beneath the warm summer sun.

Emily walked toward the group of guests when she heard the duchess speak loudly.

“Allister, you simply must tell us about your time in Venice.”

“Oh yes, do tell us about your visit to the Ca’d’Oro. I heard its beauty knows no rival,” Lady Cleeves insisted. “My Genevieve has always wanted to visit.”

Leaning on his elbow on a blanket next to Genevieve that had been spread over the sand, Allister smirked.

“Well, the word beauty does not do Venice justice. It was a truly enthralling city…”

Emily tried to listen with genuine curiosity, but for some reason, Allister’s words sounded frivolous and empty.

He spoke about operas and balls he and his brother had attended, but Emily couldn’t help but think that all the while he spoke about his adventures abroad, they had been trading the most devastatingly romantic love letters.

For the next hour or so, the guests meandered along the shore, laughing, sharing stories, and picking up shells while the sky gradually turned from blue and cloud covered, to gray and misty.

Emily had walked some ways down the stretch of sand to the eastern arch, debating all the while whether or not she had indeed miscalculated her relationship with Allister.

Perhaps she had merely been a distraction during his lonely trip abroad. That’s why he had written to her so much. But now that he had returned, she could only assume that he had forgotten his declarations of love and fidelity.

Bending down, Emily picked up several small stones, flat and cold in her hand, and walked towards the edge of the water.

One by one, she tossed them into the sea.

It felt like she was tossing her hopes for her future with Allister away while the dark clouds above rolled towards the shore.

Soon a thunderous crack sounded, and all the guests yelped from shock before scrambling towards the stone staircase.

Emily considered following them, but before she could, the sky opened up and sheets of rain began to pelt down. Safe beneath the arch, she considered waiting out the storm when Gregory spotted her from several yards away. He hurried towards her, taking refuge himself beneath the rock shelf.

Shaking off the rain, Emily stepped back to give him room. Droplets of water fell from his head as his hand combed through his dark hair. He smirked at her as he shook out his jacket, his teeth a flash of straight white surrounded by his black beard.

“Intending on catching your death?”

“It’s only a passing shower,” she replied, pointing to the clear sky over the ocean. Gregory’s gaze followed her hand. “It should stop in a little while.”

“Then I shall wait with you.”