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P iers had been embraced by a few weeping women in his time. Invariably, they’d all wanted something from him: a better role, additional lines, a new gown, or, quite simply, him. He sensed that Belinda Bellamy wanted none of these things—she needed comfort, nothing more.

This was not a crisis that could be resolved with gifts and gewgaws. This needed careful handling.

He drew Belinda closer until he felt her form and the warmth of her body pressed against his. She didn’t object, but grasped his lapels and buried her damp face against his neck.

Not thinking what he was doing, or how his actions might be interpreted, he rested his cheek against her hair, reveling in the soft, bright curls.

She smelled of lavender, not the cheap, cloying perfumes preferred by ladies like Katie and Sally—it was refreshing.

He nuzzled against her hair, then kissed her temple and her cheek.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Belinda. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

“Just hold me for a moment. I must compose myself.”

It wouldn’t hurt if she remained in his embrace a little longer, would it?

But he mustn’t take advantage, or she’d despise him forever.

Why ever would he want to take advantage?

Great heavens! Belinda Bellamy was the enemy, after all, despite her charms and well-meaning nature.

Perhaps this capitulation was an apology for what she’d done to him.

No—she’d been weeping before she even recognized him.

He released her, felt in his pocket for a clean handkerchief, and pressed it into her hand. She edged away and dabbed her tears, turning her back to him while she composed herself. It seemed a very long moment before she was prepared to turn back and face him. She offered him the handkerchief.

“No, no—you can keep it. I have enough of those. Are you feeling better? Do you need some water? I’ll take you back to the inn.”

“Thank you. I won’t go back just yet—although Maisie needs me in the kitchen. I think she’s just beginning to look up to me and I’ve never had anyone look up to me before. I wouldn’t want to spoil the illusion of being worthy just yet.”

He took Belinda by the elbow. Now that she’d been in his arms, pressed close against his heart, it was as if an impenetrable wall had come crashing down. Now, touching her was as natural as breathing.

“You are worthy, Belinda. Not everything you have done in your life has been wise, but I think that could be said of pretty much everyone. Just imagine where we’d be if there were no such thing as a second chance!”

Her elfin face was solemn, and her cheeks red where she’d wiped them, but she was still a striking young woman. Her hair had escaped its bindings, and she’d come out bonnet-less, allowing the breeze to waft the golden curls about her face, giving her the appearance of an ethereal being.

Why was he thinking of Miss Belinda Bellamy in such poetic language? He must stop it at once!

“I’ll wait with you until you’re recovered. There’s a bench over there—perhaps we can make use of my other handkerchief to ensure it’s clean enough to sit on.”

He held his breath, remembering how he’d behaved when last they’d met and realized he ought to expect a refusal. He’d interrupted her at a poignant moment—which had resulted in her clinging to him—but that didn’t mean anything had changed between them. Although, perhaps now, it could...

“Miss Bellamy—”

“Mr. Darvill—” She spoke at virtually the same time, and he gestured for her to continue. “Mr. Darvill—”

“You may as well call me Piers,” he interrupted, “now that we have, at least temporarily, sheathed our swords.”

“Sir, I must apologize for dampening your lapels. You caught me at a moment when I was deeply upset.”

Would she have clung to any other person so needily? If it had been the sexton who’d wandered past, or a local farmer, or the butcher’s boy? He sincerely hoped not.

“Evidently. You’re completely forgiven for weeping. I understand it is not an uncommon occurrence in a graveyard.”

As the words left his mouth, he remembered the tiny headstone that she’d been kneeling by. Did the remains of a past lover lie buried there? But surely, he’d never heard any hint that she might have been married. Suddenly, he was desperate to know the truth.

Belinda took a deep breath. “I—I hardly know how to say this. And I have no idea why I’m telling you, of all people. I should hate you really—and there’s no doubt you hate me, but you seem—different, somehow.”

“Now you’re making me feel unworthy! I’ve been a bit of a brute, I realize, and I should be apologizing to you. ”

He received a flash of her blue eyes before she looked away again. She hadn’t been expecting an apology from him, had she?

“You don’t have to share your secrets with me if you don’t wish to, Belinda.

But if you do, I promise that I won’t judge you.

I had a conversation with someone the other day who made me realize that I have a resentful nature, a tendency to be unforgiving and even to seek vengeance against those who have wronged me.

I’ve learned that this is not a path to contentment.

That’s one of the reasons why I’m here today, looking for you. ”

“You were looking for me? But we’re a million miles away from London Society here—how did you ever find me? And why would you bother?”

“With regard to being in Devon, I needed to come anyway—you recall I told you I had a lead mine on Dartmoor? There was business to attend to at Wheal Betty, problems with flooding and so on—but I know you don’t approve of the mine, so I won’t bore you with the details.

Before I left London, I learned from the loyal—but still angry—Roland Chetwynd, that you’d been sent away under a cloud. ”

He cleared his throat before continuing.

“I was thinking about that on the journey down. Such a solution was, in my opinion, entirely wrong. One can punish a child with the birch or send them to bed with no supper, but sending away an adult woman in disgrace can do lasting harm. You’re a sensitive person—I know all about your nerves—and I couldn’t see that this punishment would serve you in any way. ”

She raised her tear-stained face to his. “You really think that?”

“Indeed. I have, as I say, been trying not to vow retribution on all those I perceive as my enemies. It’s an unhealthy pursuit.” There were some outrages he could never forgive—but she didn’t need to know about things that didn’t involve her.

“But I have been most troublesome to you, haven’t I?”

He gave himself a moment to ensure he sounded sincere, and said, “You acted in ignorance, not from malice. I appreciate that now, and I won’t hold it against you any longer.

I’ll win out in the end—you just caused a delay.

That was what I came to Buckleigh to say—I’m not your enemy.

But I caught you at the wrong moment—you were mourning a younger brother, a sister? Some family member?”

He didn’t want to say “husband,” praying that would not be the case. What he was not prepared for was the admission that came next.

“No, sir. No brother or sister. Can I trust you to keep this knowledge to yourself?”

His heart began beating a rapid tattoo. She was going to reveal something he didn’t like, and he didn’t understand why it should matter. Steeling himself for the truth, he gestured for her to continue.

“That is the grave of my baby son, Adam.”