He responded instantly, enfolding her in a powerful embrace. Holding her so tightly that the bones in her corset gave a creak of protest. And he kissed her again. A deep, soul-stirring kiss, as passionate as it was poignant.

She felt the heat of it thrumming in her veins. It weakened her knees and limbs, forcing her to cling to him almost desperately. Like some poor shipwrecked soul clinging to a rock. The only solid and dependable thing in a stormy world.

He was saying goodbye to her.

And suddenly, she could no longer hold back the tears that stung at her eyes. She pressed her face into his neck.

His breath was heavy against her hair. He moved his hand over the curve of her spine, up and down in a slow, reassuring caress. Long seconds passed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“Clara…”

“I mean it.” She drew back, her damp eyes finding his. “I only wish we had more time together.”

He rested his forehead gently against hers. And the emotion imbued in that single gesture was so sweet, so tender, she felt she might drown in it. That she might lose herself entirely.

Until he spoke.

“I have nothing to offer you,” he said.

Her hands slid from his neck. She stood there, frozen, as he released her from his arms and moved away from her. “I haven’t asked anything of you. I wouldn’t.”

“You d-don’t understand.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I c-can’t ever leave here. I’m…” His throat worked on a swallow. “There’s n-no future with me.”

The bare wooden floor seemed to shift beneath Clara’s feet, like the deck of a ship. She reached behind her to grip the windowsill. “Yes, I see.”

But she didn’t see at all.

All she knew was that she’d done it once more. Despite his professions of admiration, and her abundance of caution. Despite everything she’d been guarding against these past four years. Somehow, she’d managed to make an idiot of herself again.

She turned briefly to dash a tear from her cheek. “I’ve been very foolish.”

He didn’t disagree.

Indeed, he didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if he was struggling for words or merely bereft of them. She couldn’t bear to look at him to find out.

Was he regretful? Ashamed?

In other circumstances, she’d have endeavored to discover the answer. But not now.

Now, all she wanted was to leave his presence. To abandon the scene of her latest disgrace as swiftly as possible.

“It was a mistake to stay so long. I must get back.” She moved past him to the door, her footsteps brisk and purposeful, for all that her heart was breaking.

And she waited for him to object again. To tell her, as he’d done before, that he wanted her to stay.