Miss George's Second Chance (Miss Mayhem 2) - Page 11

He smothered her hand with his and squeezed. “I am so sorry about your sight, Imogen. I had no idea until today. What do the doctors say can be done?”

She laughed bitterly as she soaked up the brief comfort he offered. His touch was quite unexpected but exactly what she needed tonight. She’d been feeling sorrier for herself than usual. Leaving Brighton and her brother, while the right thing to do, would break her heart. “Quite a lot, but mostly the same suggestions. Rest and pray. I don’t think it’s working.”

“Imogen,” he began, his thumb stroking her palm. “There’s a question I must have answered. When did you suspect your eyesight was failing? Before or after?”

Imogen struggled to focus on his words because what he was doing to her hand stirred delicious sensations through her body. She almost couldn’t breathe. “I don’t understand.”

He gripped her hand tightly, ending the caress. “Before or after us?”

Imogen retrieved her hand and rubbed her damp palm over her gown. “I suspected something was wrong before. I hoped it was merely tiredness. I didn’t think it would matter but it grew worse and then you came into the title. I knew I’d placed you in an impossible situation.”

His breath caught and then slowly released. He pressed his hand over hers again. “How could a marriage between us have been impossible?”

“A blind wife was too great a burden to inflict on Sir Peter Watson. Besides, none of it matters now.”

There was a long pause and utter silence in which Imogen could only imagine the acceptance on Peter’s face. Surely he could see the sense of her decision. She’d wanted to spare him the burden Walter now bore. He retreated, pacing away and then returned. She had the sensation he was looking straight into her face. “I’m the same man, but I’m not sure which of us is the more foolish. Did you not think I deserved to know the truth and make my own choice?”

Imogen drew back a little, startled by the agitation underlying his words. “It was the sensible thing to do. You were free of an attachment that would have proved a hindrance to the advancement of your happiness and affections.”

Peter began to laugh. The bitter sound cut her to the bone and she winced, wishing he’d never come back to Brighton to remind her of what she’d given up a year ago. Being near him again and knowing he’d done what she’d wanted all along, found his own happiness, made her heart ache. It was as if the day she’d let him go had just happened. “Please,” she whispered.

He stopped abruptly. “I should go before we are seen together. Good night, Miss George. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Not if she could help it. There was no need to meet with him again. She just hoped his wife never came to call. She wasn’t sure she could bear it. “Yes. Perhaps.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Peter stared morosely out at the ocean, watching his friends paddle back and forth in the morning sun with abundant energy. His mood didn’t suit the activity. He couldn’t get the image of Imogen, as she’d been last night, from his mind. The corners of her eyes still crinkled when she smiled, full lips still parted in surprise at the sound of his voice. But she hadn’t seen what he’d become—a man worthy of respect and not an object to pity.

At least now he knew the truth. She had ended their betrothal because of her failing eyesight and her belief that she’d be a burden for a newly title baronet, not because she didn’t care for him. She did care. That’s why she’d set him free. She didn’t understand the first thing about his nature if she believed he’d be better off married to someone else. He had been the lucky one being betrothed to her.

He slumped to the ground and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d not slept a wink. The discovery of her sacrifice changed everything. He’d come back with a hope of establishing some sort of relationship with her even if it were simple friendship, but overnight he’d discovered he’d nurtured the hope of perhaps making her regret her decision to end their engagement.

But she was blind.

She couldn’t see to write.

Curse it all. She had given up everything.

Imogen George was the most maddening woman he’d ever met.

“Good morning,” Walter George muttered as he reached for a towel to drape about his hips. His long wet legs stopped nearby, dripping water.

Since their group bathed sans clothes, Peter averted his gaze until Imogen’s brother was decently covered. When he did look up he was surprised by Walter’s appearance. In the last year Walter George had changed. He’d lost that weak, soft look he’d had all his life and grown muscular. Had he lost weight from worry? “I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you write to tell me about her?”

Walter shook his head. “I didn’t know there was a problem for months after the engagement was broken. She made me promise to keep the discovery private for as long as I possibly could. I was forbidden to even write to Abigail about it, but when she and Hawke came down at New Year’s, she couldn’t hide it any longer.”

Of all the ridiculous things to do. Hiding from her friends was not the Imogen he remembered. She was fearless under normal circumstances, but the loss of her sight had possibly destroyed her confidence. Given her surprise at hearing him speak last night, he concluded she hadn’t expected him to return to Brighton ever again. The news wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he felt compelled to set the record straight. “I would have come back.”

“Why? You were no longer engaged.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair as frustration curled within him. “I might have been able to offer some help. I could have scoured London for a physician skilled in treating eye disorders and sent him to her. There are discoveries made every day that have not reached this place.”

Walter threw a shirt over his head, and then sat at Peter’s side, staring out at sea. “She’s had enough of doctors prodding her. Made me promise not to bring another stranger home with me.”

Stubborn wench. “And you’re happy with that?”

“Of course I’m not happy. She’s my sister and it’s difficult to see her as she is. Barely leaves the house. Now that your sister is gone to London her only callers are Miss Radley and Miss Long, when she can slip away from the viper she calls a cousin.”

Tags: Heather Boyd Miss Mayhem Historical
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