Read Online Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2) by Susan Ward - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Ward
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man? Children? A home? Alone in the darkness with her thoughts, she began to understand a little more what her mother had always tried to tell her.
Nothing in life was ever as certain as you believed it, she thought to herself. Not yourself. Not the future, and she had thought she had known herself so well in Cornwall.
Four days hence, after restless nights and endless pondering, she knew with certainty only two things. She was sitting in the grass, on a sunny day, watching a celebration in the slave row on a Virginia plantation; and she was missing a man with an absolutely desperate ache.
Four days. It was too long. Merry missed him.
She reached into April’s basket and pulled out a spice cake. “I do not understand. Why is there a broom laying in the dirt?” Merry inquired, looking to Aline.
“The broom symbolizes home and hearth,” Aline explained. “It is their marriage custom. On one side of the broom they are separate and jumping the broom they become one in home and hearth. Husband and wife.”
April smiled and watched. “How wonderful it must be to be able to find your true love so simply. No courting ritual. No contracts. No jointure. Perhaps then we would have found husbands, sister.”
Aline propelled herself to a sitting posture. “Humdudgeon. I for one am thankful that marriage for us is such a daunting process. I’m sure it was the only reason we were both spared.”
April’s eyes sparkled impishly. “Don’t pretend you are not interested in romance, Aline Devereaux. I see those novels you read. We are women and we are all vulnerable to the same disease. Love.”
The sisters stared at each other and giggled. Merry turned her attention back to the celebration. The jumping of the broom done, the air was vibrating with the sound of fiddles and clapping. The dancing and the merrymaking had begun.
April sprang to her feet and pulled Aline with her, and the sisters were soon gaily colored butterflies dancing in front of Merry. How sweet they are , Merry thought, but how sad their life, to know there is no hope to have more. Only this. Each other.
It was strange that the Devereaux sisters should live the life she had fought for in England, and now that she could see it, it should be a thing she viewed with despondency.
A tear stung her eye and rolled down her cheek. Merry had found love, but her fate was no less hopeless than this. Sitting in this pleasant daylight, she wanted to believe it was a hopeful thing and yet couldn’t convince herself it ever would be.
She did not belong here. She did not belong with Varian. Love him she may, but it would not bring any more joy to her than love had ever brought the Devereauxs.
April was right. They were all infected with the same disease, but the disease was fate.
The sisters were just gathering their blankets and baskets to return to the house when the sound of horse hooves caused the sisters to look toward the drive. Merry did not need to look to know who it was. The world around her had changed and she could feel that it was Varian. She held herself back from going to the edge of the drive with the reminder she too often made herself a fool over this man. If what they played now was her game then she would not jump first.
In their enthusiasm over the Captain’s return, the Devereaux sisters made a fast trek to the house, unmindful Merry didn’t follow.
Several minutes passed before Merry cautiously looked over her shoulder. The horse was gone. The drive empty. Varian did not come to her. He had gone into the house with the sisters.
She would not jump first.
Merry sank back down onto the grass. Time passed without notice. The sun was setting before she heard Varian. Beside her she could feel the displacement of air as his goliath body lowered until he was at eye level with her. He lifted her palm to his lips and kissed it. The touch of him leapt through her veins. What she felt in his touch, what she felt inside of herself, frightened
Nothing in life was ever as certain as you believed it, she thought to herself. Not yourself. Not the future, and she had thought she had known herself so well in Cornwall.
Four days hence, after restless nights and endless pondering, she knew with certainty only two things. She was sitting in the grass, on a sunny day, watching a celebration in the slave row on a Virginia plantation; and she was missing a man with an absolutely desperate ache.
Four days. It was too long. Merry missed him.
She reached into April’s basket and pulled out a spice cake. “I do not understand. Why is there a broom laying in the dirt?” Merry inquired, looking to Aline.
“The broom symbolizes home and hearth,” Aline explained. “It is their marriage custom. On one side of the broom they are separate and jumping the broom they become one in home and hearth. Husband and wife.”
April smiled and watched. “How wonderful it must be to be able to find your true love so simply. No courting ritual. No contracts. No jointure. Perhaps then we would have found husbands, sister.”
Aline propelled herself to a sitting posture. “Humdudgeon. I for one am thankful that marriage for us is such a daunting process. I’m sure it was the only reason we were both spared.”
April’s eyes sparkled impishly. “Don’t pretend you are not interested in romance, Aline Devereaux. I see those novels you read. We are women and we are all vulnerable to the same disease. Love.”
The sisters stared at each other and giggled. Merry turned her attention back to the celebration. The jumping of the broom done, the air was vibrating with the sound of fiddles and clapping. The dancing and the merrymaking had begun.
April sprang to her feet and pulled Aline with her, and the sisters were soon gaily colored butterflies dancing in front of Merry. How sweet they are , Merry thought, but how sad their life, to know there is no hope to have more. Only this. Each other.
It was strange that the Devereaux sisters should live the life she had fought for in England, and now that she could see it, it should be a thing she viewed with despondency.
A tear stung her eye and rolled down her cheek. Merry had found love, but her fate was no less hopeless than this. Sitting in this pleasant daylight, she wanted to believe it was a hopeful thing and yet couldn’t convince herself it ever would be.
She did not belong here. She did not belong with Varian. Love him she may, but it would not bring any more joy to her than love had ever brought the Devereauxs.
April was right. They were all infected with the same disease, but the disease was fate.
The sisters were just gathering their blankets and baskets to return to the house when the sound of horse hooves caused the sisters to look toward the drive. Merry did not need to look to know who it was. The world around her had changed and she could feel that it was Varian. She held herself back from going to the edge of the drive with the reminder she too often made herself a fool over this man. If what they played now was her game then she would not jump first.
In their enthusiasm over the Captain’s return, the Devereaux sisters made a fast trek to the house, unmindful Merry didn’t follow.
Several minutes passed before Merry cautiously looked over her shoulder. The horse was gone. The drive empty. Varian did not come to her. He had gone into the house with the sisters.
She would not jump first.
Merry sank back down onto the grass. Time passed without notice. The sun was setting before she heard Varian. Beside her she could feel the displacement of air as his goliath body lowered until he was at eye level with her. He lifted her palm to his lips and kissed it. The touch of him leapt through her veins. What she felt in his touch, what she felt inside of herself, frightened
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