Emmeline picked up the basket and held it in front of her. “I should be going.”
“Would you care for a piece of bread before you leave?”
Before she could reply, Mrs. Winters walked in, her eyes flashing with relief when they landed on Emmeline. “There you are,” she said with labored breath. “Your husband has arrived and has requested to speak to you in the drawing room.”
“My husband?” Emmeline repeated back in surprise.
The housekeeper bobbed her head. “Yes, milady.”
Forcing a smile to her lips, she hoped it didn’t appear too strained. “How fortunate for me,” she said. “I shall go greet him.”
Emmeline exited the kitchen and walked up the servant’s stairs. Once she arrived on the main level, she hurried towards the mirror that hung in the entry hall. She smoothed back her blonde hair and tried to appear presentable.
Gathering her courage, she stepped into the drawing room. Her breath hitched at the mere sight of Oliver. He was standing by the window, looking out over the expansive lawn. He was dressed in a grey riding jacket, dark trousers, and black Hessian boots.
“Good morning, Husband,” she greeted, hoping her words sounded cordial enough.
Oliver turned to face her, and a smile played on his lips. “So, this is Lockhart Manor.”
“It is.”
“From what I have seen, it is lovely,” he commented.
“I agree,” she said. “Would you care for me to give you a tour?”
“I would greatly enjoy that but, first, I wanted to speak to you about something.”
Emmeline cocked her head. “What would you care to discuss?”
Oliver took a step closer to her and stopped. He looked entirely unsure of himself, which was in stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “I would like to apologize for not being there when you departed from Hawthorne House.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, not to me.”
“But I want to.”
Emmeline gave him an expectant look. “Proceed, then.”
“I must admit that I took the news that you were departing from Hawthorne House rather poorly.”
“Why is that?”
“I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Frankly, I didn’t think my absence would be missed,” she admitted, lowering her gaze.
Oliver appeared displeased by her response. “How could you even think that?” He took a step closer to her. “Regardless of what transpired between us in the past, our destinies are still intertwined.”
“I understand.”
He glanced down at the basket in her hand. “Did I arrive at an inopportune time?”
“Not at all.” She held the basket up. “I had intended to deliver a basket to a widow who lives a short distance away.”
“Would you care for me to accompany you?”
A genuine smile came to her face. “I would like that very much.”
Oliver reached for her gloved hand and brought it up to his lips. “I would be remiss if I failed to mention that you look especially beautiful this morning.”
“You are too kind,” she replied. “I must look like a fright, since I only just arrived home from my morning ride.”
“You are being much too hard on yourself,” he said as he placed her hand into the crook of his arm.
“I’m afraid that is generally true.”
“It is a shame that we are our own worst critics,” Oliver said as he led her out of the drawing room.
Grubbs met them at the door and asked, “Would you care for me to request the carriage to be brought up front for your errand?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “Lord Oliver and I shall walk to Mrs. Thompson’s cottage.”
Grubbs tipped his head as he opened the door wide. “Yes, milady.”
As they stepped onto the gravel courtyard, Oliver asked, “How are you faring?”
“I am well,” she replied.
“I am happy to hear that.”
Emmeline glanced over at him. “May I ask how you are faring?”
His jaw clenched as he replied, “I am well.”
“You don’t seem well,” she boldly remarked.
Oliver looked over at her in surprise. “And why do you say that?”
“You appear out of sorts.”
“It might have something to do with my staying at a coaching inn last night,” he admitted. “I left Town later than I intended and I arrived in Whitstable at a late hour.”
“You should have come straightaway to Lockhart Manor. I am sure someone would have been up to receive you.”
He shook his head. “I thought it was best to stay at the coaching inn and arrive early this morning.”
“I have never rented a room at a coaching inn before.”
Oliver chuckled. “You are not missing much,” he said. “The mattresses have straw in them, and the fleas are horrendous.”
“That sounds awful.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t even gotten to the worst part,” he joked. “I am not entirely sure what meat was in my soup last night.”
They continued walking down the dirt road, and Emmeline’s eyes roamed the rolling hills in the distance.
“You seem happy here,” Oliver commented.
“I am,” she admitted.
“Will you be returning to Hawthorne House, then?” Oliver asked, his words hesitant.
Bringing her gaze back to meet his, she replied, “I have every intention to.”
Oliver nodded. “I must admit that pleases me.”
“Did you doubt that I would?”
He grew silent for a moment, then said, “I’m afraid our previous conversation was handled very poorly on my part.”
“It matters not.” She had no desire to discuss it, so she asked, “Do you intend to stay long at Lockhart Manor?”
Oliver grinned. “Do you already tire of my presence?”
“Heavens, no,” she rushed out. “You are welcome to stay as long as you are able, especially since it belongs to you.”
“I am only teasing you, Emme.”
“I should have known,” she muttered.
“Frankly, I plan to stay until I can convince you to return to Town.”
“I see.”
Oliver glanced curiously at her. “Do you not wish to return home?”
“I do, but…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of the right words to say. “I know this may sound odd, but I feel as if I am home at Lockhart Manor.”
“That is disconcerting, because our home is in London. At Hawthorne House,” Oliver said, his voice taking on a slight edge.
“I am well aware of that, and I apologize
