“I suppose you do.” Clara’s gaze drifted over his face. Fondness shone in her eyes—and a faint sadness, too. “You’re a part of this landscape, as much as anything. It’s how I shall remember you. Walking along the cliffs with Paul and Jonesy. And in the stables, with Betty and Firefly.”

There was a finality to Clara’s words. It settled in his chest, extinguishing the warmth that had bloomed there as she spoke of clover fields and butterfly gardens.

But this wasn’t the end. They had eleven more days together, didn’t they?

He studied her face. It revealed nothing more to him.

Perhaps this wasn’t the place for it. He needed to get her alone. To speak with her frankly. What shall we do when you go? Shall we write to each other? Shall you come back and visit next Christmas?

He knew he would live for every letter. For every visit, even if it was only once a year.

And yet…that wouldn’t be living at all, would it? It would be heartbreak. It would be misery.

He swallowed. “I’ll turn them out in…in the m-morning.”

Her face brightened. “Oh, I long to see that. But what about—” She broke off. A sheepish smile edged her mouth. “I won’t make the mistake again of pointing out the inclement weather. Except to say that, though Betty may be a Dartmoor pony, Firefly has known nothing save that loose box.”

“Dartmoor is in his blood.”

“Perhaps, but he’s still bound to be frightened by all the rain.”

“He’ll t-take his…his c-courage from his mother.”

“Is that how it works? Each of us learning to be brave from the example set by our parents?”

His mouth quirked. “I wouldn’t know.”

Her own smile evaporated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“It’s all right. I d-don’t mind it.”

“I mind it for you. You shouldn’t have had to be all alone.”

“I wasn’t,” he said. “I had Justin, Alex, and Tom. And now…”

And now I have you.

But he didn’t say that. He couldn’t. Not here.

Not yet.

Chapter 16

Clara was awakened at dawn by the sounds of rain on the rooftop, and thunder breaking over the sea. She was glad, for once, that Bertie was hard of hearing. Asleep beside her in the bed, he hadn’t been at all bothered by the storm. He’d snored straight through the night.

She let him sleep while she washed and dressed, and then gathered him up to carry him down to the kitchens.

Neville was waiting for her there, as promised—along with a steaming mug of tea and a thick slice of bread and butter. “I thought you m-might be hungry.”

Clara smiled her gratitude. “Oh, thank you. I haven’t had any breakfast.”