Apologetic Blame

“I have come to apologize for my behavior last evening.”

Bramwell stood in her doorway. Millie had just brought her breakfast and left only moments beforehand. Suspiciously she lifted her eyes to see his repentant countenance waiting for her absolution.

“All right, I’m waiting.” His mere announcement was not enough.

“What more do you want me to say?” he glowered. “I told you that I came to apologize.” He took a step further into the room.

“Well, that is not an apology. You just announced that you came to do it, but I have not heard anything.” Caroline wanted him to get on with it because she was hungry and irritated. Instead he remained silent, as if he were pondering the right words. She noted his clenched fist at his side.

“To be blunt, a portion of what transpired between us was your fault too. You should also rise to the occasion and apologize to me.” He took another step in her direction and halted.

“I beg your pardon,” she declared. “What did I do? You are the one who took liberties.” Caroline wanted to get out of the bed and slap his scruffy face.

“You never take responsibility for anything, do you? Whatever adversely happens to you is diminished by throwing accusations at another person.”

“I cannot believe,” she huffed, “that you think I hold any responsibility for last night. You are the most insufferable male I have ever met, and I cannot wait to leave here and go home.” She picked up a piece of toast and shoved a large portion into her mouth. Perhaps the food would tame her tongue and prevent the foul cursing she wanted to hurl in his direction.

Bramwell snickered over her action, approached her bed, and sat down on the edge. Surprised by his move, Caroline tried to scoot over, but the tray prevented her effort. Once again, she was pinned. He sat there staring at her while she chewed the toast and pushed it down her throat.

“I don’t recall inviting you to sit upon my bed.” Caroline reached for another piece of toast to silence the words on the tip of her tongue. Before she could do so, Bramwell took her plate and put the food tray out of her reach.

“Shoving bread into your mouth will only prolong this discussion,” he said.

“I’m hungry.” She crossed her arms and pouted.

“Oh, Caroline, you can be so endearing one moment and exasperating the next. You carry as much blame as I do.”

To her surprise, his gaze softened to one of high regard. The unmistakable look in his eyes revealed his developing affection. Perhaps it had been more than male lust that motivated his actions the evening before. Nevertheless, she was not going to admit to any responsibility in the matter.

“How did you come to that conclusion, sir?”

“Do you realize how stunningly beautiful you looked in that dress? I found you utterly irresistible.”

Caroline noticed that the nightgown of her bodice had inched downward, revealing her cleavage. To her horror, her nipples had hardened and protruded through the thin chemise. She clutched the sheet and pulled it up over her chest, hiding the temptation. Bramwell shook his head.

“Yes, you are right to assume that even as you lay in this bed you are tempting my resolve.” His face turned serious. “Truly, I apologize for my behavior. When I saw your beauty, I realized how much I desired you, regardless of our frequent quarrels. In doing so, I mistook your welcome to my kiss as reciprocating my sentiments. Then to my shame, I made the grave error of assuming you wanted an intimate encounter.”

Caroline closed her eyes as she remembered the fire in her body responding to his advances. As much as she hated him at times, there were moments she felt her affections growing too. She had met her match. They were both bullheaded and opinionated, manipulating the other. She had mistakenly concluded that their characteristics were opposites that repelled. On the contrary, they were magnets drawn to one another by their similarities.

“Will you accept my apology?” he humbly asked. “It is quite evident that had I proceeded, I would have taken your virtue.”

His voice, laced with disappointment, caused her to open her eyes. Caroline inhaled a deep breath for courage. She let go of the sheet and reached out toward Bramwell’s hand.

“This may surprise you, but I gave away my virtue once before to another man who proclaimed his love for me. To my shame, he merely wished to seduce me. Once he accomplished the task, I was discarded.” Bramwell squeezed her hand in return, looking quite shocked over her admission. “I swore that I would never allow another to touch me out of wedlock.”

“Did you love him?” He drew his brows together as if he worried about her answer.

“I thought so at the time,” she said, lowering her eyes to hide her embarrassment. “As I look back and ponder our relationship, I can see that I did not truly love him. The word that best describes my former emotion is desperation.” She sheepishly looked at him again and grinned. “At my age, a woman begins to think she will never marry. With my opinionated and outspoken personality, I am not exactly a good catch.”

“You are a challenge, Caroline, though I beg to differ with you that you are not a good catch,” he kindly replied with a tone of affection.

Her eyes watered. “I was fortunate that I did not become pregnant from my sinful behavior last year.” She inhaled a deep breath to contain her weakness. “I am sorry,” she admitted. “I will not deny that I wanted you to take me, but my mind and heart feared the same outcome as before.”

“Understandable.” Bramwell released her hand and rose to his feet. He looked disappointed. “I must leave for the mine, Caroline. Pearson is procuring a pair of crutches for you. Tonight I can teach you to hobble around.” He replaced the tray over her lap.

“Will there be beef for dinner this evening?” Her eyes sparkled at him, enjoying the tease.

“No. I believe the cook has lamb on the menu. Will that please you, my lady?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Good. I hope you have a good day, Caroline.”

After Bramwell left, she realized a dreadful thing. She had started to fall in love, in spite of the mystery surrounding Rebecca. Certainly his ex-fiancée’s declaration that she loved another must have been a terrible blow to Bramwell. She had breached his trust and broken his heart, not to mention the betrayal of his brother. It was unforgivable that she had told him a day before their wedding! If any man had a reason to kill a woman, surely it would be Bramwell Croft.

* * * *

Mastering the art of walking on crutches was a feat that Caroline found nearly impossible. Her armpits pressed against a hard surface, and her balance teetered with every movement. Lifting her leg underneath a skirt and swinging herself between two wooden sticks had been physically exhausting.

“I would rather have you carry me than deal with this difficult means of getting about!” She wanted to throw them on the floor and fall into his arms instead.

“A strong-willed woman such as you should be able to master this small task.” Bramwell snickered as he stood a few feet away watching her struggle to the dining hall. Thankfully, he was at arm’s length to catch her should she tumble in any direction.

“It’s better that you learn, Caroline. Then you can spend your days downstairs rather than being held prisoner in your bedchamber.”

“Ha! At last you admit that I am a prisoner at Thorncroft,” she exclaimed with a grin.

“Do you have complaints regarding your jailer or the food perhaps? Haven’t we treated you with the utmost respect during your incarceration?”

Underneath his gruff exterior lay a tease. His eyes twinkled watching her arrival to the dining hall. He pulled out a chair, took the crutches from her, and she plopped on the seat drained of strength. Bramwell scooted her chair in and then sat at the head of the table.

“Give the young lady a glass of wine, Pearson. She deserves a reward. I shall have one as well.”

“Whatever Mrs. Williams is cooking, it smells wonderful. Is it lamb?” she asked.

“Yes, hopefully to your liking. I will admit, though, I will enjoy the day that I can return to eating my latest kill.”

Whenever he spoke of killing, his countenance turned grim. At the same time, her thoughts turned toward dead Rebecca. Understandably he just enjoyed hunting as a sport. Englishmen, from aristocrats to commoners, were always on the hunt for animals and birds.

Pearson served dinner, and Caroline enjoyed the succulent lamb. However, to her disappointment, Bramwell brooded while eating. Only sparse, superficial conversation occurred between them. What had stolen his earlier jovial mood?

“You do not speak very often of your mining operations,” she began. “Might I inquire if you had a pleasant day?”

“Pleasant?” he asked, looking at her perplexed.

“It must be a poor word choice,” she stated. “Would agreeable, profitable, or another expression of your choosing be a better definition?”

He dabbed his lips with his napkin and then responded. “There is nothing pleasant about mining, Caroline. A mining profession requires skill, patience, hard work, and the hope you will see the light at the end of the tunnel when a grueling day of labor is over. Though I do not descend into the mine as often as I used to as a boy with my father, it does not mean that I do not appreciate the risk that my workers take in order to mine tin.”

“Pardon my asking,” Caroline stated, “but you appear anxious.”

Bramwell slowly relaxed the tense muscles in his jaw. “Your interest in my affairs at the mine is touching. Rebecca did not care about its operation or my work.”

His admission surprised Caroline. If she had truly loved him, then she should have cared about every aspect of his life. “It is a shame that she showed no interest,” she sadly replied.

“Perhaps,” he replied. “Nevertheless, to answer your question, we are digging a new tunnel that will eventually lead under the sea.”

“Under the sea?” Caroline couldn’t comprehend such a feat.

“It is not unusual. There are miles of underground tunnels. It is quite a labyrinth not only in my location but at many of the Cornwall mines.”

He looked pleased over her curiosity, but Caroline really did not like the risks involved with mining. After all, Bramwell’s father had died in a mining accident.

“I do hope you are careful,” she said. “It is certainly a worrisome occupation.”

“You need not worry,” he consoled her. “Now finish your dinner, and we will converse more in front of the fire. I believe Pearson finally gave Merlin a bath. No doubt the dog is looking forward to an evening pet.”