“I owe you an apology for my behavior the last time we spoke. You were right tae tell me tae mind my own business. I’m sorry for upsetting ye and sorry for my rudeness.”
Her blink was slow, as if she’d taken a few extra seconds to process his words. “You were right to warn me about Montague, even if you were rude.”
Beyond the exhaustion, her eyes had a dull, defeated look that was unlike the woman he’d met before now. Had her suitor shown his true colors? Concern overrode etiquette, so he said, “I know I just apologized for sticking my nose in your affairs, but are you all right?”
She nudged her mare into a leisurely walk. “A headache kept me awake all night. It’s made me quite cross, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry tae hear that. Did something happen with Mr. Montague?” A flock of birds left a nearby tree in a feathered swirl, their squawking filling the pause as he waited for her answer. He’d wait all day if need be. They headed off the trail toward a copse of trees.
“You were right about him. Now’s your chance to say, ‘I told you so.’ Go ahead.”
“I won’ do that, my lady. Especially if he hurt you.” What had happened? Possible scenarios crossed his mind, each worse than the last. “I know we aren’ exactly friends, but I am worried for you, lass.”
She pulled her mount to a stop and turned to him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—to you of all people—but I could use a friend. The only person outside my house who cared enough to warn me away from Montague was you.”
“Are you certain you want tae befriend the man who made you flee Town for nearly a decade?” Emotions piled into his chest in a happy mess, but he couldn’t quite believe the offer of friendship was genuine.
“Please, you give yourself too much credit, my lord.” For the first time this morning she smiled at him, like the sun coming out on a gloomy day, warming everything in its path. “That Paper Doll Princess nonsense knocked the wind out of me but not for long. I retreated, cried, then plotted your demise—”
“As one does,” he teased, and she laughed.
“Mother finally convinced me that rather than murder you, a better revenge would be to return triumphant and publicly reject you as a potential suitor for anyone of merit. Show everyone you were wrong.”
“I was wrong. So what happened?”
Her smile turned bittersweet. “My brother, Michael, died. Then Mother followed soon after from a fever. Father couldn’t handle the loss. He retreated to his library, and I stepped in to run things.”
That sank in as he stared at the sky’s reflection off the Serpentine stretched out before them. He hadn’t driven her away for nearly a decade. Life had intervened in her plans, not shame or embarrassment. No wonder she’d changed since her debut. During the interim years, Lady Charlotte had grieved nearly everyone. That was a situation he understood all too well. Mum, Da, his gran’da, cousins…only he remained. “’Twas a tremendous loss for your family. I’m sorry.”
The black plume on her hat bobbed with her nod. “The one bright spot was learning where I belong. Running the estate, implementing changes, and taking care of the tenants—that means something. And I’m good at it. Or I was, until Father pulled out of his grief and took it away.”
The horses passed through the trees, the morning light kissing her cheeks. Ethan was content to listen to her talk, since she obviously needed to get a few things off her chest.
“So here I am, an old maid searching for a husband just so I can have a home of my own to do what I love.”
“You’re not an old maid. You may not be fresh from the schoolroom, but you’re hardly ready for caps and yarn crafts.” Their conversation at the musicale, when she’d described her idea of marriage, made sense now. “If your goal is tae have your own estate tae manage, then marriage is a means tae an end.”
She looked surprised. “Of course it is. Why else would I want a husband?”
His laugh came out a bit too loud, scaring a bird out of a nearby tree. “I’m not so foolish as tae guess at the female mind. Especially yours. I suspect it’s mostly twisty bits and dark corners.”
“You aren’t wrong.” She shrugged with a smile.
That pile of emotions in his chest settled into one clear thought. “I would like tae be your friend, my lady. Very much.”
“Good,” she said. “Because hating you is downright exhausting when you’re right in front of me. You’re much easier to despise from afar. Speaking of which, where have you been for the last week?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how she’d noticed. Checking his bedroom window, perhaps? Ethan cleared his throat. “I went home. Mr. Macdonell agreed tae meet this week, so I took the time tae visit Woodrest.”
“You made contact with Macdonell, then? He’s a good man. I hope he will be an asset to your estate.”
“I hope so as well. We have an interview tomorrow afternoon. If it works out, I’ll owe you a great debt.”
“We’re friends now. I’m sure I’ll collect on that debt soon enough,” she said.
* * *
In Ethan’s opinion, one thing London did well was bookshops. The shops crammed with aisles, rows, and stacks of stories and information just waiting for a reader were the best part of Town. While these literary riches did not make up for the abject poverty, the sooty air, and a river that ran thick with sewage, they provided a haven he could return to whenever the world outside the shop door grew too dark. In a way, the proprietor of this shop in particular had borne silent witness to the ups and downs of Ethan’s entire history in
