Page 156 of Rogue of My Heart

But not this time.

At long last, his greatest hopes were coming true. She was coming back to Beauley Hall. Just the thought of seeing her again was enough to cause his hand to shake. He gently laid the paper on the desk in his study, right over the estate book he’d been perusing. Any further work would have to wait, for the numbers were a jumbled mess after reading that letter.

It shouldn’t have been so imperative, and yet it was.

In truth, it made all the difference.

He steepled his hands before him. For years, he’d been wondering if he’d done the right thing that day by leaving Albina. But he felt it was the only option left to gain a connection between them.

If such a thing could even be accomplished.

He remembered with vivid clarity the first time he’d set eyes upon the copper-haired debutante in her virginal white dress. She had literally stopped him in his tracks, although he wasn’t sure she’d even noticed; she was so caught up in her first ball of the London season, talking and chatting with a group of other young hopefuls.

Thankfully, he’d known the hostess that night, and after approaching her for an introduction to the lady in question, he found that his footsteps nearly stumbled as he’d been introduced to Miss Albina Waterton. She was even more lovely up close, and he knew the moment he looked into those charming, hazel eyes, that she was the one for him.

* * *

But over time, and the stress of raising a family, he could tell that it had all started to wear her down. She’d always wanted to write but claimed that she never had the time, so he’d started going to his club more often in order that he might not be another burden. But as things had continued to deteriorate, he’d known he would have to do something drastic in order to regain the affection that had waned between them.

So, in the end, he’d set her free.

Granted, in hindsight, he could have gone about things a bit differently, but what was done was done. At the time, he thought he’d been doing her a service, and had convinced himself of the same when she’d written to him and told him of her blooming advice column.

The smile that had graced his face that day had been the first genuine one in months, because he had known she was happy. Where he had failed, her writing had succeeded.

But as the months turned into years and he’d found himself staring at the same, four walls, his chest ached, because he wished, above all else, that Albina was there to share his days with him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so much of an insensitive jackass that he might rip away her only joy. So in spite of his stubborn pride, he’d stayed away.

But now, at long last, she was coming home.

To him.

And another smile graced his lips.

Two

A lady must always be punctual…

Lady A’s advice column

* * *

Norfolk, England

June 3, 1818

* * *

Albina held her reticule tightly in her grasp. She pursed her lips together in irritation, for her teeth were about to be jarred out of her head from the uneven roads they traversed across the English countryside.

From the beginning, this day was not going as planned, and she began to wonder if all of this nonsense was a mistake. Before they’d ever left Baine house that morning, John Coachman had told her that there would be a delay because one of the horses had thrown a shoe. Once that was fixed, they were delayed by a sudden bout of torrential rainfall that just happened to start the moment they left London. Although the day had eventually cleared, the storm resulted in the miserable conditions she now had to endure.

Once again, she chastised herself by allowing Lydia to talk her into this asinine journey. This entire trip had been beyond her good reasoning, and obviously something was trying to tell her to remain in London. And yet, here she sat in her carriage as it carried her ever closer to the shores of Yarmouth.

Beauley Hall was situated about a mile or so from the village, on the bluffs overlooking the North Sea. And while Albina might have been reticent about seeing Chael again, she was curious about the changes that had been wrought in the picturesque seaside hamlet since her absence. She had heard that the Naval Pillar, a monument that was being erected to honor Admiral Nelson for his services during the Napoleonic Wars was nearly completed. Of course, Yarmouth was rich in history already, from the Church of St. Nicholas, built by the first bishop of Norwich, as well as the Royal Naval Hospital.

She had nearly forgotten how much she’d enjoyed her time there.

During the first few years of their marriage, when the children had been in the nursery, Albina and Chael had been content in this part of the country, with the salty tang of the sea teasing their nostrils, and the brisk wind caressing their face. For that brief time, that passed all too quickly, she knew those had been some of the happiest days of her life. Not until