Chapter Five
Miriam Robinson watched the dancing, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
She probably shouldn’t have interfered in Agatha’s scheme with Donal MacKenzie, but when they had spoken of Belvoir and Mary Davidson .
. . She had been transported back to her youth and Bernard.
If only someone had warned her at the time, then she would not have spent the last twenty years unhappy.
But would she have listened? The young always thought they knew best, and she hadn’t been any different.
As Agatha and Donal took to the floor, Archie Kilsyth reached over to take her hand.
He was a dear man, and if she felt a little guilty for keeping things from him, well she told herself she wasn’t doing him any harm.
In fact, she was performing a service. He had been in mourning for years, and without her he would probably still be struggling to step out of the shadows.
She had bullied him into accepting invitations, reacquainting himself with old London friends, and slowly learning to live again. Now he was dependent upon her, so dependent that he would not want to let her go. Well, she would deal with that problem when the time came.
They had met at the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, both of them masked in preparation for a masked ball.
Miriam had been at her wit’s end. When Bernard had died, she had wondered what to do with herself.
She owned a little house and was frugal enough that she did not want for much.
Did she miss Bernard? She supposed in some ways she did, but his passing had been more of a relief than a grief.
And he had left her with questions she had yet to find the answers to.
When she decided to go to Vauxhall, she had been aching for the company of others.
She had decided she would call herself “Robinson,” which was her maiden name, and as she rarely went into society, no one would be the wiser.
She had just wanted to pretend for a moment she was fancy-free and without the burden Bernard had left her with.
And then she had met Archie Kilsyth. She had known at once that he was a good man. He had the kindest eyes. And in return for him buying them supper and dancing with her, she had spun him a web of lies.
“I am lonely. My husband died last year, and it seems as if I never laugh anymore!”
He had understood that. He was a widower and had been mourning his wife for years.
Archie had offered to take her to the theatre, and she had accepted with pleasure.
She had learned a little more about him as time went on and their friendship grew.
He had one child, a daughter, and his house and land were located near a place called Setholm on the Scottish borders.
“Do not laugh,” he said, “but I have a donkey sanctuary which takes in animals no longer wanted by their owners. It was my wife’s passion, and I promised her I would keep it going.”
“What will happen to the donkeys while you are in London?” Miriam had asked, immediately concerned. She had always loved animals, and her heart went out to those abandoned creatures.
“I have employed carers, never fret,” he said with a smile. “But I admit it is a tie. I can never be away for very long.”
“But you are fond of them?” she insisted.
Archie smiled wryly. “Too fond I sometimes think. Life would be much simpler without them, and yet I cannot turn any of them away.”
He was so good. Miriam was worried her secret would besmirch him. He would not stay at her side if he really knew her. Could she keep pretending? The longer they were together, the more difficult it was to tell him the truth.
Now Miriam watched Agatha and Donal dancing. They danced very well together, as if their bodies were in harmony. Yes, they were grieving the loss of partners whom they had thought loved them, but they were young. In Miriam’s experience, desire often overcame good sense.
“You are deep in thought,” Archie said, with a fond smile. “What are you thinking about?”
In that moment she wanted to tell him. Everything. The impulse was almost unbearable, but thankfully it was quickly smothered. “Shall we dance?” she asked him.
He paused and then agreed. “You will have to forgive me,” he said. “I have not danced in years.”
“I will be patient,” she whispered, her breath against his ear.
His eyes glittered, and she knew he was thinking of her in his bed, but he was too much of a gentleman to whisper coarse suggestions to her as Bernard would have done.
They took their place among the other dancers, moving to the music, and Miriam was happy.
Archie made her happy. That night at the gardens had turned into something warm and delightful.
But her secrets were beginning to weigh on her in a way that made her anxious, because if he found out about her lies, then he would turn away from her, and Miriam knew if he did .
. . when he did, she would miss him terribly.