Yet it could not have been something she did regularly, for her hands were delicate and not at all roughened by this sort of labor.
“I know you are too caught up in your own misery to think of anyone but yourself.” She sighed and took the stool beside him. “I’m sorry. That was harsh of me and unfair. I know how dearly you loved your wife and daughter.”
“Do not mention them,” he said in a low growl.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, but he caught the edge of irritation in her voice. “We all lose loved ones. Do you think I am not struggling with the impending loss of mine as well? I never even knew my mother. She died giving birth to me.”
He was about to reach for her hand to give it a light squeeze in apology, but she moved away to pour him a cup of tea. She now set the cup down beside him and settled once more on her stool. “That wet shirt must be uncomfortable for you, but I don’t think any of my father’s shirts will fit you.”
“I’m fine. The weather’s warm enough. I will survive it.” He still wanted to take her hand, but the moment had passed, so he picked up his fork instead and began to eat. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you. I am hoping to find a position for myself as a cook…when the need arises.”
He glanced at her in surprise. “Why would you bury yourself in a kitchen where no one can see you?”
She cast him a wry smile. “It is the safest place for me, surely that is obvious. One of the few positions for which I would be hired. No wife will take me on me as governess for her children or as maid for her household.”
He nodded. “Because you are far too pretty.”
Blast.
He hadn’t meant to let that slip, but she did not appear to be taking it as anything more than a factual comment.
“I am not blind to the way men look at me.”
“You could use your appearance to best advantage and find yourself a husband.”
“Yes, I could. But I cannot bring myself to do it, at least not yet. I wish to make a love match, if possible. I do not want to marry merely for the sake of convenience. I am not afraid of hard work. My life does not have to be easy, but it does have to be happy.”
He gave a disdainful snort. “Happy?”
If only he could remember what that felt like.
“And what is wrong with wanting this? Why should I have to cringe every time my husband reaches out to touch me? Any man would expect rights to my body in exchange for providing a roof over my head and food on the table. But I am not made this way. I…I cannot give myself to someone I do not love.” She blushed furiously. “Oh, this is more than you wanted to hear. Much more than I should have said.”
She moved away and pretended to busy herself putting away supplies.
“Miss Ruskin, do not be afraid to come to me if ever you are in need of assistance. I may be wretched in many ways, but not to the point I would ever forget my duty to those who reside in my village.” He set down his fork and stared at his empty plate, for he had devoured every last crumb.
She stopped fidgeting about the kitchen and turned to regard him with a thoughtful expression. “You would help me?”
“I know I have not been worthy of any of you these past two years, but I do understand what you mean about happiness. I have felt the loss of it acutely ever since Jillian passed. Then to lose my little Molly to the same illness mere days later. It was more than I could bear.”
He saw tears form in her eyes. “I know, my lord. If I am severe with you, it is because I know that the man I have been finding drunk outside the vicarage this past week is not who you are or were ever meant to be.”
He snorted. “Pretty wretched, I know.”
“We are all very proud of who you are. A war hero, a loving father and husband, a good and kind man who cares for those under his protection. But you’ve lost your way so badly at the moment. I have every confidence you will set yourself right and find your true path.”
In addition to being physically beautiful, Viola was also intelligent and compassionate. He had behaved poorly, especially toward her, and now felt quite contrite. He was not an ogre but had been taking out his grief and frustration on others for too long. “I thank you for an excellent meal. I promise to do better for all of you.”
She shook her head. “It is most important that you do this for yourself.”
“I know. It has been two years now, and yet I feel as though I am getting worse instead of better.”
“Because you are not permitting yourself to move on. May I speak my mind, my lord?”
He cast her a wry grin, for Viola was an opinionated little thing. Perhaps this is why he had been stirring awake only to find himself in front of St. Martin’s Church these past few days. Was he seeking her out? “Go on.”
