Camille pulled a deep breath for courage and knocked on Grayson’s door. Hopefully, she would catch him before he went down to dinner. If not, she’d leave him the brief note she had written. It wasn’t an apology—she really didn’t think she had anything to apologize for, except perhaps for losing her temper—but it was in the manner of an olive branch. And she had written that she loved him.

She had only seen him in passing most of the day; and when she had, he’d been preoccupied. The man obviously had something weighing heavily on his mind. While last night had brought her to the inescapable realization that she had never stopped loving him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had come to another conclusion altogether. Perhaps last night wasn’t a new beginning between them, but rather it was, once and for all, the end. Perhaps they couldn’t move past their anger and pain. And hadn’t he chosen once before to let her marry the wrong man?

“Grayson?” She opened his door and glanced inside. Obviously, she had missed him. No matter. She would leave her note and speak with him later. And then perhaps they could share Christmas Eve together.

A book sat beside the lamp on the table by the side of the bed; she wondered if his taste in reading had changed. Curious, she picked it up and a document beneath it drifted to the floor. She bent to retrieve the paper, started to replace it, then froze.

It was a receipt for passage to America on a ship sailing the day after Christmas.

Her heart caught. He was leaving? Again? In spite of everything that he’d said? According to this, he had never planned to stay.

No, even with the damning evidence in front of her, she was not going to jump to conclusions. There was a logical explanation for this. And hadn’t she said she needed to trust him? Even if he did intend to go back to America, by God, she had indeed learned from her mistakes. She would go after him. She would not lose him again.

She replaced the receipt and put the book back where it had been, ignoring the slight tremble in her hand. Obviously, a note was not now sufficient. There were things that needed to be said. She left his room and dropped the note off in hers, then headed down to dinner. She had no idea if she could eat past the lump in her throat; because as much as she wanted to believe there was a simple explanation, she couldn’t help but fear she was wrong.

Twenty-three

Twenty-three