Web of Love

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Authors: Mary Balogh
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realized that its use was quite redundant with the trees acting as an effective shade.
    They settled into their usual conversation of light banter. It was the way she talked with almost all men these days. Never anything deeper. Was she afraid to get to know any man too closely? Was she afraid to allow any man to know her? But she shook her head and smiled. This was not a day for introspection.
    â€œYou know…” the colonel said, and Madeline was instantly alert. The tone of his voice had changed. “Despite your very sensible ban on a certain topic for today, I will say that it is highly probable that I will have to leave Brussels at a moment’s notice.”
    â€œYou did so today,” she said, smiling up at him, “to attend a picnic.”
    But she could not control this part of the conversation. His eyes were grave as he smiled back.
    â€œI may not be able to return immediately,” he said. “Perhaps you will be gone back to England before I do so.”
    â€œI shall stay,” she said. “Until Dominic is ready to go back, that is.”
    â€œIf you have returned to England before I see you again,” he said, “may I find you out there?”
    â€œBut of course,” she said gaily. “I always enjoy finding absent friends again, sir.”
    â€œDo you comprehend my meaning?” he asked, looking searchingly into her eyes.
    She gave up her pretense of gaiety. “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “Yes, I do, sir. And I wish you would not. Let us not spoil a day of pleasure.”
    He smiled ruefully. “You do not care for me?” he asked.
    â€œOh, yes, I do,” she said hastily. “I do.”
    â€œBut you are afraid of what might happen?”
    She drew in a deep breath. “I do not think of it,” she said. “It is not that at all.”
    â€œAh,” he said. “There is someone else, then?”
    She looked sadly into his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    He smiled slowly. “And so am I,” he said. They walked on in silence for a while. “I do hope you are unrolling a ball of string behind our backs. Do you have any idea how to get back to the carriages? We might be doomed to wander here forever and ever, you know.”
    â€œWhat a dreadful fate!” she said. “But I am sure that after a few days, sir, when I am about to die of starvation, you will be gentleman enough to climb a tree to see if you can see the spires of Brussels or some other sign of civilization.”
    He laughed. “But these are not exactly a schoolboy’s dream of trees for climbing, are they?” he said.
    She had said yes, Madeline was thinking. She had said that yes, there was someone else. Why had she said that? Had she lied because it was an easy way to put an end to an uncomfortable conversation? And yet she had not felt as if she were lying. Was there someone else? Was that her problem?
    But she did not either like him or love him. She had not seen him for three years and was unlikely ever to see him again. He had settled in Canada. He had gone beyond Canada into the vast inland wilderness, working in the fur trade. She very rarely thought of him consciously except when Alexandra had a letter from him. But she had said yes. She had agreed that there was someone else.
    It was a long time since she had loved and hated James Purnell. A long time since that strange night at Amberley when he had danced with her in Edmund’s formal gardens to the faint sounds of music coming from the ballroom. When he had kissed her with a tenderness she had not known him capable of and with a passion that had had her expecting that she would be taken there in the garden, and wanting to be taken. When he had told her that she should leave him if she knew what was good for her, that he did not love her, that he felt only lust for her. When he had left in the middle of the night, even before the ball was

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