Free Fates for Apate by Sue London

The reason she had given to keep the truth from him hadn't made sense. No reason would make sense. He'd suspected she was an agent of the British Crown shortly after he had met her, and had been certain of it once she climbed up to his room. She had said she loved him. Hadn't she? Well, perhaps not the exact words but he knew that she did. Now she was warm and soft, leaning against him. He never wanted to let her go. Wasn't that what she asked of him when last they had been together? To never let her go? Knowing that no other man stood in the way, he could fulfill her request.
    His voice was husky from need and emotion. "So what's this about leaving for London?"
    She sighed. Although not quite as gusty as his, it was far more despondent. "Another wedding, and I can arrive in time for this one if I hurry."
    "I can't leave yet."
    "I'm not asking you to."
    "Then what happens after? After your friend's wedding and my time at the Congress has ended?"
    "I don't know."
    "May I join you in England?"
    She looked hesitant. "I don't know if I'll have another assignment."
    He lazily traced a pattern on her soft cheek. "But if you are in England? May I meet you there? Court you? Ask your father for your hand?" Her expression was forlorn. He stopped sweeping his fingers over her cheek. If she wasn't married then they could be together, couldn't they? She could marry him . She loved him . Didn't she?
    She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. "If I'm in England, yes."
    A qualified answer. He drew back from her. He wanted to demand that she explain herself, but his emotions were too raw, all of the possibilities too new. If he let himself badger her then he might very well drive her away.
    He kissed her cheek. "I'll bring you the letter in the morning."
    She nodded, and although she kept her eyes downcast he was somewhat heartened that her fingers clung to him until he had slipped back out the window.
     
    * * *
     
    George didn't think that she had ever dreaded a morning more. Today she left for England. She should be happy, the conquering hero returning to claim her share of the spoils. She should be excited to see what new adventures Robert might send her on. She should be delighted that she would be able to attend Sabre's wedding, to see all of her friends again. She felt none of those things. Certainly her mind was full of what she should be feeling, but all she felt was a ball of sadness in her gut. It wasn't Casimir. She refused to believe that one man, one person that she had no plans to see again, could overshadow everything else. 
    She thought of Charlie Bittlesworth. There had been a time when she had fancied herself in love with Charlie. She had mooned over him for hours on end, wishing he would notice her, wishing he would see her in the way she wanted to be seen. Not as coltish, sarcastic little George, but as a woman. A desirable woman. The way that Casimir saw her. No! No, she wasn't thinking about Casimir, she was thinking about Charlie. With his blond hair that was always disheveled enough to look dashing and just this side of disreputable. His laughing green eyes and ready smile. If her humor had the sting of the honey bee, his had always had the sweetness of the flower. Just thinking of Charlie made her smile. They had shared endless jests and jokes over the summers while they were growing up. Yes, she missed Charlie. But sitting here, thinking about him, she also knew that she missed him as a friend. She didn't pine for him, she didn't long for him. She would be happy to see him again. Once she could reveal her travels she would tell him about seeing the Lipizzan horses at the Spanish Riding School. She would tease him, and he would tease her. Yes, she would be happy to see Charlie again. But she was, she knew, also very happy that he had never noticed her the way she had hoped. If she had been married to Charlie when she met Casimir it would have broken her heart.
    And, she had to admit to herself,