***
1 Month Later
"Thank you. I appreciate your help," Orlando said to his brother sitting across from him at the dining table. It was decorated with laurel and ivy leaves for Christmas and a large fire warmed the room. The children had already run off to play with their gifts, but May, Thomas, and Orlando remained seated, picking at their feast.
Thomas saluted Orlando with his wine glass. "Pleased I could do something since it seemed so important to you." The grocer Orlando had in mind to stock Susanna's orange stuffs had died last year, so Thomas had found another, one who agreed to give free samples to the palace maids. Before long, the court ladies demanded the exotic delights and orders flooded in. All of Susanna's marmalades and succades had been sold.
Orlando hadn't been sure what to expect from Thomas after all this time. Resentment? Anger? He'd displayed all those emotions back then, but now, he just seemed happy to have Orlando back.
But it was difficult to tell for sure. The wound that had left a deep, ragged scar running from the corner of his eye down to his mouth had rendered the right side of his face immobile. He'd got the scar in the attack.
The attack that had been Orlando's fault.
"If there's something I can do for you in return, please name it," Orlando said.
"There is actually." Thomas licked his thumb and pointed a quail bone at Orlando. "You can come back to work for me. I'm in need of a good man. Someone I can trust."
Trust again, rearing its head. Strange how his brother trusted him too much after he'd caused him so much trouble, yet Susanna didn't trust him enough when he'd saved her life.
Ah, Susanna. God he missed her. It had been weeks since he'd left Stoneleigh. The roads had been poor and it had taken him longer than expected to arrive home.
Home. No, not that. Not now. The house had May's stamp all over it, and his brother was clearly the master. There was no place for Orlando there.
"I can't," he said. "I'll be leaving in the spring."
"You can choose what you want to do this time," Thomas went on. The left side of his mouth, the good side, lifted in a smile. It was the first Thomas had given Orlando since his return and it was a relief to see it. "Perhaps work with the customers. You had them eating out of your hand as I recall, back before..." He set the quail bone down and picked up a cloth to wipe his hands.
"Before you left," May finished for him. She clasped the pearl and agate pendant hanging from a gold chain around her neck. "We really would like you to return to work in the family business, Orlando. Thomas...needs your help."
"Oh?" Orlando looked from one to the other but neither met his gaze.
"Times have been difficult of late," Thomas said. "Having you work beside me again would be invaluable."
"I can't," Orlando said.
"Because of what happened? Orlando, I don't blame you for this." He tapped the scar with his finger.
"You used to."
"We don't anymore," May said. "It wasn't your fault. And you shouldn't blame yourself either. Orlando, we need you now. You were so good with the customers, so natural. It was never the same after you left, we never had quite as many orders."
"I'm not really sure how you did it." Thomas shook his head. "But there's no denying the figures."
"I hated it," Orlando said. "Hated every moment of the work." How could he make them understand? "All I wanted to do was get away, anywhere. I needed to do something."
"You can have more responsibility this time and more to do," Thomas said. "Indeed, I'll let you do what you want, work when you want. Just...come back."
Orlando drained his glass, closing his eyes as he did so. Hell. Of all the ill-timing. "I've promised Susanna I'd return in the spring. I can only help you until then."
"Is she the orange grower in Hampshire?"
Orlando nodded.
"Are you going to marry her?" May asked.
Orlando studied his trencher and Susanna's words echoed through him: We are not getting married, Orlando. Not now and not when you return.
"No," he said. "I'm not going to marry her."
"If you're not going to wed her, you should forget about her." May touched the pendant nestled against her bodice. "Please, Orlando, stay."
"Don't beg, May. He's made his decision." Thomas rose and left without a farewell.
May watched him go and sighed. "Thomas hasn't been the same since that day. He worries more. He doesn't trust his workers like he used to, doesn't trust anyone. The business is suffering because he's trying to do everything, and he works harder than ever." She closed her hand around the pendant and leaned forward. "You owe us, Orlando. For what you brought down on this house, on Thomas. Your loyalty should lie here, with your family, and not with a woman you're not going to wed."
She too left and Orlando sat alone in his brother's dining room while his brother's servants cleared the dishes away. His heart felt leaden, his head woolly. He finally had a chance to atone for what he'd done to Thomas and May, what he'd caused to be done to them. And Susanna had refused his offer of marriage. May was right. Orlando's responsibilities lay with his family, and he only had one of those.
Ah, Susanna, forgive me.
He would send her the money owing her and a message that he would come when he was able, perhaps in the summer.
But summers were a busy time with cargo-laden ships coming and going, and autumn would be little better. Indeed, most of the year would be busy, and Orlando planned on being as involved as possible. There would be no growing bored this time, no retreating to alehouses and wenches for amusement. He would do his utmost to help his brother. It was the least he could do.
He thought about what Susanna would say and how she would look when she read his letter. A shudder wracked him and he scrubbed his hands down his face. His whole body groaned with an ache so deep it hurt worse than any wound he'd ever received.
Why did doing the right thing feel so utterly and miserably wrong?