Because of You by Cathy Maxwell Page A

stretching his bare feet toward the fire. “Has it always been this cold in winter?”
    “Have you been to Sproule before?”
    He seemed to stiffen, as if she’d asked something he didn’t want to answer. But when hespoke, his voice was relaxed. “I’ve passed through here.”
    “I don’t remember seeing you.”
    “There is no reason you should have. It was years ago.”
    “Miss Mabel and Miss Hattie said the old duke of Ayleborough once had a tutor for his sons whose name was Marvin Browne, with an ‘e.’”
    “I wouldn’t know him,” came the stony reply.
    She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to marry you.”
    He turned to her then. “Because I drink?” He was teasing her. “I assure you, Miss Northrup, my drinking the other night was a momentary lapse into a bad habit I gave up years ago. You won’t have a drunkard for a husband.”
    “That’s not the reason I don’t want to marry you.”
    “What is your Christian name?”
    His change of subject was unsettling. “Why do you want to know?”
    “Because I’ve asked.” The steadfastness in his dark eyes was compelling.
    Against her better judgment, she said, “Samantha.”
    “Mine’s—” He paused. “Marvin.”
    “Yes, I know.” She couldn’t help but smile at the name. It didn’t seem to fit him.
    “Come sit here, Samantha.” He patted the chair next to him.
    Her name sounded differently on his lips thanshe’d ever heard it sound before. “I’m fine here.”
    “Please.”
    She hesitated, then did as he’d asked.
    They sat a moment staring into the fire, each lost in thought.
    Then he spoke. “Would you leave Sproule if I didn’t marry you?”
    “Of course not. Where would I go? Why would I want to leave it even if we did marry?”
    His jaw tensed with anger. “I will not leave you here, not with these people.”
    Samantha started pressing out one of the wrinkles in her dress with her hand. Her gaze didn’t meet his as she said, “They are not bad people.”
    “No, just expedient,” he replied with distaste. “Samantha, up until now, I haven’t always done the right thing in my life. I have sinned, as you would so quaintly put it. Worse, I’ve made terrible mistakes for no other reason than my pride. But I have never turned my back on a person who needed help.”
    “I don’t need help. It’s just that—” She stopped, uncertain if she was saying the right thing.
    “Just what?” he prompted.
    She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ve spent the majority of my life making excuses for people. You’re right. I’m deeply hurt that they want to be rid of me. But I’ve known it was coming. I’ve only managed to stay in the vicarage by my wiles. I thought that the people here valued my healing skills. They’ve always come to me andI’ve always helped, even if it was in the middle of the night, or I’d have to stay for days. I felt I was one of them, and now, they’ve let me know differently. It’s just that I can’t imagine a life beyond Sproule.”
    “There is plenty of life beyond Sproule,” he said with feeling.
    “What of you, Mr. Browne? Where did you come from?”
    Again she had the feeling she’d asked a question he would rather not answer.
    “I’ve come from here and there.”
    “But what is your profession, sir?”
    “I do a little of everything, Samantha. You need never worry. I will take good care of you.”
    “I will not marry you. Nor do I want your pity.”
    “There you are wrong. I don’t pity you, and you will marry me.”
    She smiled at the autocratic tone in his voice. “Mr. Browne—”
    “Marvin.”
    She rolled her eyes, but conceded, “ Marvin. To hear you give me edicts, one would think you were a grand duke, but the truth of the matter is, it’s not right for us to enter into the holy union of marriage just so that Mrs. Biggers’s nephew can move into the vicarage.”
    “It’s also not right to hold onto the past once it is done and over.”
    His voice had been soft—gentle,