Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

He sat on the stone wall, and the cat promptly jumped onto his lap, possibly the only resident of Cloverhill happy to greet him.

But he reminded himself that he was here for Pearl. And she was all that mattered.

THE TUESDAY MEETING OF the Octagon Salon was not at all successful, having more the lethargic spirit of a summer afternoon than a fresh spring day. Deirdre seemed most concerned with her costume for an upcoming ball, and Estella hardly spoke at all. Portia and Katharine reflected briefly on the cool weather. In less than an hour's time, Deirdre ended their misery by announcing that she had some errands to accomplish, and Portia and Estella followed her down the steps.

Katharine thumbed some pages until her reverie was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She looked around the room, wondering who had forgotten what.

"Miss Katharine," Mrs. Moon said breathlessly. "You have a visitor."

Edward Danforth stepped into the room, behind her.

She did not faint. Nor did she cry out or sob or throw something. She did not do any of the things she long imagined, including commenting on how the years had not been kind to him.

In fact, they had been very kind.

He had changed in eight years, but he was even more handsome and certainly more distinguished. The somewhat gangly boy she remembered, possessed of raw strength, had matured into a man to be reckoned with. But there was sadness in his eyes, a loss of exuberance in his manners.

"Katharine."

She ignored the catch in his voice, and did not answer at once.

"My lord," she said, ignoring his familiarity. "Welcome back to Cloverhill. But you must excuse me, for I am about to go out for the afternoon."

"Then may I join you on your outing, unless a gentleman is not welcome to do that?"

He sounded like the Edward she once knew, happy to follow her about, knowing she enjoyed his company. But he presumed too much.

"Not unless he wants to be a pest," she retorted. Mrs. Moon gasped.

But Edward smiled. "I should enjoy that very much,"

He followed her down the stairs and out the door. Katharine started toward town but thought better of it, realizing the rumor mill would be thrumming with the news of their reunion. Instead, she turned toward the steps to the beach, where no one but the gulls would see them.

As they walked along in silence, only once did she toy with the idea of pushing him over the cliff. Soon they were on the stone steps, carved into the chalky bedrock centuries ago, and now weathered by wind and rain. Katharine was a woman of many talents, but even she could not descend and think about Edward at the same time; it was too arduous a task.

The tide was out, leaving shells and debris in its wake. Jellyfish dried in the sun, and gulls scooped up fish and crabs, a decen

t meal for people or birds. Katharine found a few tarnished coins and the bleached jawbone of a fairly large fish.

"I see not much has changed in all these years," Edward said.

Her back stiffened as she reluctantly turned to face him. "You are mistaken, my lord. It is quite the opposite, for everything has changed for me. I am no longer someone you know, and I certainly do not wish to know you."

"Kitty ..." he began, and reached for her arm.

She pulled away.

"That child no longer exists. She abandoned that sweet name along with her naive expectations." Katharine paused, waiting for an apology that did not come. "I am Miss Katharine Wharton now. It is not so stunning a transformation as to find oneself a peer, but it does reflect a certain amount of advancement."

"Miss Wharton," he said, bowing formally. "It is a pleasure to meet you, though I shall miss the Kitty who used to find fossils with me."

It was finally too much. The sluice gates opened with a torrent of words.

"You would not have missed her at all, if you behaved with any notion of honor on the day you were to marry her. You could have had baskets of fossils. Now, she can think of nothing that would give her more pleasure than to fling them at your head."

"I suppose I deserve that," he said.

"And you certainly could not have expected anything more, showing up in Cloverhill as if all could be forgotten," she retorted. "I somehow imagined I was prepared to forgive, but I am no longer certain of it."