“If you’re certain.”
“Of course! It would be my pleasure.”
Before Peter quite knew what he was doing, he dismounted and fell into step beside Mr. Tunley, leading his horse behind him.
Chapter 21
Iwas headed for that small beach there,” Mr. Tunley said, all joviality, pointing to a small copse of trees ahead and the endless blue sky beyond. “Nothing like looking upon the majesty of God’s creation, a nourishing of the body, as well as the soul, eh?”
Peter said nothing. He couldn’t remember a time he’d thought about such things. Eating had been a way to feed his body and nothing more. He thought of Lady Tesh’s picnic, all formality and pomp, or the elegant meals he had shared with that lady where too much focus had been on the beauty of the setting and the elegance of the dishes. He hadn’t enjoyed those occasions, not even a bit.
They picked their way through the small stand of trees, and the beach came into view. And Peter knew that this meal would win over all the others by far.
The sand was pale beneath his boots, stretching to the water’s edge, where the waves played a coy game, coming in to caress the shore before retreating with a hush. Mr. Tunley led the way to a fallen log. Doffing his cap, he dusted the surface, then laid his worn jacket over the damp bark before easing himself down with a happy sigh. Bemused, Peter followed, tying up his horse and removing his own jacket, nearly as worn as Mr. Tunley’s, before seating himself. As his companion busied himself opening his bundle, murmuring his approval of each item he pulled from the cloth, Peter took the chance to look about.
Yet again the Isle surprised him in the best possible way. There were no buildings lining the beach, no bathing machines being pulled out into the sea. Instead all was quiet and still, the only movements the gentle lap of waves, the rustle of trees in the faint breeze, the hop and scuttle of birds chasing the tide. And Mr. Tunley, ever cheerful, creating a makeshift tablecloth with his handkerchief, prouder of his simple fare than Lady Tesh had been of her footmen and tents and furniture and expensive delicacies.
“As you can see,” the man said, gesturing to the food he had laid out with such care, “my Mrs. Tunley does spoil me so. I’m glad you joined me today. I do hope you don’t mind such simple food, Mr. Ashford. I know you must be used to much better.”
Was that a hint of uncertainty in the man’s voice? Sure enough, when Peter looked closer, he saw a faltering in the perpetually cheerful smile.
“This to me is better than anything in the world, Mr. Tunley,” he replied with utter seriousness, eyeing the spread. And indeed it was. Plump pasties with flaky golden crust, thick chunks of pale cheese, fine red apples that shone in the dappled sun. His mouth watered.
Mr. Tunley beamed. “Well, I hope your praise is as heartfelt after you’ve sampled it. Though I haven’t a doubt it will be, for I’ve been told my Mrs. Tunley is quite the finest cook on the Isle.”
“I shall be the judge of that, shall I?” Peter said with a grin as the man handed him a pasty. Peter took a bite under Mr. Tunley’s anxious eye. The crust crumbled, the flavor of fresh mutton and gravy and vegetables filling his mouth. He closed his eyes in appreciation.
“You may tell your Mrs. Tunley,” he said after he’d swallowed, “that she has another admirer in me. I’ve not had anything half so good since my mother passed.”
The man’s chest puffed up so, Peter was surprised he didn’t pop a button. They ate in companionable silence, the stress and strain and uncertainty of the morning melting away in the simple setting.
Sometime later, as the last morsel of food was devoured, Mr. Tunley spoke again.
“I’m glad to see you so relaxed, Mr. Ashford. You looked earlier as if the devil himself was trailing your heels.”
“Did I now?”
“Aye.”
Peter nodded, looking out to the horizon. “I didn’t think I was such an open book.”
“Well now, I don’t know about you being an open book. But when a man has trouble in love, it tends to show in certain ways.”
Peter started. “Love?”
“Oh, aye. You’re having women troubles, I’d bet my best hat on it,” he said.
The food that had sat so warm and comforting in Peter’s belly suddenly turned sour. He rose from his seat and walked toward the gently churning sea. Bending down at the water’s edge, he picked up a rock and threw it out over the water, watching it disappear beneath the surface.
Perhaps it was the constant hush of the waves caressing the shore. Mayhap it was simply that his mind was back at Seacliff with Lenora. But he didn’t hear Mr. Tunley until the man was at his elbow.
“You’re thinking I’m an old man, what do I know about affairs of the heart.” He chuckled. “I was young once, too, lad. I’ve known my share of heartbreak.”
Heartbreak. Yes, his heart was breaking. For no matter what choice he made regarding Lenora, he would lose something dear to him.
But he could feel Mr. Tunley’s knowing gaze burning into him. To distract the man, he asked, “You’ve experienced a broken heart?”
“Oh, aye.” He chuckled. “My marriage to Mrs. Tunley is a happy one now, but we had our problems. Why, it took me years of being a stubborn, prideful arse before I finally wised up and married her.” He paused. “But you wouldn’t be distracting me from your own problems now, would you?”
