Still, he held back. Philomena was bereft. She yearned to give herself to Hugh, to let the man she loved do whatever he wished. Her body ached for him. No matter that he did not trust her. His body was close to hers, his voice murmuring in her ears. Every nerve in her body tingled.

Hugh turned aside, picked the blanket from the floor and arranged it, tenderly, across her shoulders. “I was wrong. Please forgive me. I did not realise—” He broke off and stepped away. “What shall I do?” He spoke as to himself.

He turned back. “There is only one thing for me. Perhaps I am a little mad. I do not know. All I know is what I feel for you, beautiful Philomena. Strange girl, I know nothing of you, but I know I love you.”

His words echoed in Philomena’s ears. She could not speak but gazed, hardly daring to breathe, into that beloved face. The silence stretched into an eternity.

At last, Hugh spoke again. “Philomena, will you be my wife?”

She cried out. Her hands flew to her mouth. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. She stared at Hugh, aghast, her mind in turmoil. Would he truly make her his wife, to live in this beautiful place with him for the rest of her life? Her head swam, intoxicated with delight.

Philomena opened her mouth to reply, to shout agreement to the heavens, but no words came. She reeled. What of her terrible secret? For a moment, one wonderful, brief moment, she had forgotten. Reason returned, with a flood of despair and desolation.

Heart bursting with sorrow, Philomena shook her head. “No, Hugh, I cannot marry you.”

She longed to tell him the truth. Every inch of Philomena’s body screamed at her to tell him of the dreadful secret, but she bit back the words. She could not bear to say, “I cannot marry you because I am already married.” Hugh had forgiven her a great deal, but no one could overlook such wickedness.

She grew hot with shame. She had told Hugh nothing but lies and he had forgiven them all. He had excused her for dressing in men’s clothes, travelling alone like a woman of dubious morals. He had pardoned her for disobeying his direct commands.

She could never tell him of her shame. She must spare him such pain. He would soon recover from his love for her. Such a man was a magnet for young, pretty girls from aristocratic families in search of a suitable husband. Hugh would be better without her. She must let him go.