weeks floating adrift in a rickety old boat in the Black Sea.’ He paused to see if Rosa looked as though she believed him. It was partly the truth, but it did not explain his need to run from his fate, a strange compulsion to keep moving, as if staying in one place too long might let the disease he was so afraid of catch up with him. ‘Once I started discovering new places I was like a laudanum addict, I needed to see more, experience more. It was like an illness—if I didn’t keep moving on I would become restless and anxious.’
‘So why have you stopped now?’
Thomas pulled on the reins to slow the horses as they rounded a tight bend and considered Rosa’s question. In truth he wasn’t quite sure. The answer he’d given earlier, talking about the humbling beauty of Lake Garda, was true, but he’d visited many beautiful places in the past few years. He wasn’t sure what had made him slow, what had made him start thinking of home, yearning for the green fields and grey skies and all the places he had known as a child.
He thought of the letter from his mother, asking him to return, and knew that even without her plea it wouldn’t have been that long before he boarded a ship and sailed for England. Something was pulling him home, but he wasn’t sure what.
‘I suppose everyone needs a rest now and again.’
‘You’re being flippant again,’ Rosa challenged him.
‘Sorry. I suppose I don’t know. For a while I grew tired of new places, not knowing anyone, never being sure of where I would rest my head from one day to the next.’
‘So will you stay here, in Italy?’
Thomas smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s question number four, Miss Rothwell. You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.’
Rosa stiffened as if actually nervous about what he would ask, but nodded for him to continue.
‘How many months pregnant are you?’ He hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt and as the shock and hurt flashed across her eyes he cursed his clumsy handling of the question.
‘What makes you think I’m pregnant?’
‘Look how you’re sitting,’ Thomas said softly.
Rosa glanced down and grimaced as she realised one hand rested protectively against her lower abdomen.
‘I suppose it’s natural, a mother’s instinct,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ve had a hand on your abdomen throughout most of the morning, and every so often you will look down fondly when you think I’m not paying attention.’
She nodded, mutely. They continued in silence for nearly ten minutes before Rosa spoke again.
‘Four months, nearly to the day.’
Thomas did a few quick sums in his head, and realised things didn’t quite add up.
‘And that was why you were sent away in disgrace? You must have known pretty early on that you were pregnant.’
It wasn’t a subject Thomas was well schooled in, but he did have a vague idea that most women weren’t sure until they were about three or four months along in their pregnancy.
‘I knew as soon as I missed my courses, by that time I was only about a month gone. I spoke to the father a week later, confessed to my mother the same evening and the next day I was packed off to Italy.’
That explained the timings a little more.
‘What if you were wrong?’
Rosa shrugged. ‘I suppose my mother thought it easier to recall me if it turned out I wasn’t pregnant than to explain an ever-growing bump.’
Thomas detected a note of bitterness alongside the sadness and wondered if the relationship between mother and daughter was a little strained.
‘It took five weeks by boat, a couple more overland, and then the Di Mercurios kept me locked away for a month. That makes four months.’ She said it in a matter-of-fact voice that belied the pain on her face.
‘What about the father?’ Thomas asked, wondering if that was who she was running home to.
Rosa gave a bitter, short bark of a laugh and shook her head instead of answering.
‘What do you plan to do, Rosa?’ he asked, aware that this game of theirs had become very serious very quickly.
‘Stop the horses,’ Rosa said sharply.
Thomas glanced at her in puzzlement.
‘Stop. The. Horses.’
He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses down to a gentle walk before coming to a complete stop. As soon as the curricle had stopped moving Rosa slid down, grabbed her cane and began to limp away. Thomas frowned, wondering exactly what it was about his question that had caused so much offence.
‘Rosa,’ he called, jumping down after her and jogging to catch up.
‘Leave me alone.’
Thomas realised she was crying and slowed as he approached her.
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.’
She shook her head, turning her back to him.
He stood undecided for a moment, unsure whether to step back and give her space or take her into his arms and comfort her.
‘Shh...’ he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and gently pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.
He felt the sobs rack her body, her shoulders heaving as the tears ran down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
Thomas didn’t reply, instead tightening his hold on her, running a hand over her raven-black hair and murmuring soothing noises.
‘Come back to the curricle,’ he said as her sobs died down.
‘I don’t know—’ she started to say, but Thomas interrupted her with a shake of his head.
‘I’m not a man who is used to having his requests refused,’ he said in an overly serious tone and felt supremely satisfied when Rosa broke into a smile. It was small and uncertain, but a smile all the same.
Giving her his arm to lean upon, Thomas led her back, placed his arms around her waist and lifted her easily back into the seat.
‘No running off whilst I climb up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa said as he took his place beside her. ‘I never cry.’
‘Half a day in my company and already you’re breaking habits of a lifetime.’
‘It’s just so frustrating, so completely unfair. Every person who has found out about my predicament has expected me to give my child up. To be thankful for the suggestion that a nice family could raise my baby and no one will ever know.’
The thought had crossed
