“He already has, Hannah. First at the ball, then in the stable with your choice of horse, and even yesterday at the picnic.”
With evidence laid so clearly before me, it was impossible not to see the truth: Ollie was not the boy I’d once known, and he did not love me.
The evidence had been there all along; I should have guessed his feelings when his letters began to dwindle and when he’d not been present to greet me at the beginning of the summer. And even if I’d not guessed the truth then, I should have seen it when he’d chosen not to dance with me at the Rumfords’ ball and when he’d missed the opportunity to walk with me in the garden. At every turn, Ollie had revealed his true self, but I’d not believed him.
How could I have?
Ollie was my dearest childhood friend. My foundation. The dream upon which I had built all other dreams. He was the man Mama had wanted me to marry, the man Papa approved of. If Ollie was not the man for me, then I didn’t know where that left me.
And what of my ruse with Damon? We’d been seen together on a number of occasions now—even Lady Winfield believed us to be forming an attachment. And although Damon had given me his word as a gentleman that he would sooner marry me than allow my reputation to be tarnished, I had no desire to trap a man into marriage—especially one who abhorred the institution.
I trained my gaze on the unfamiliar rock-strewn road before me. I didn’t know where we were going or even how long it would take to get there. “How much farther to our destination?”
“Are you feeling ill?”
“Only mildly. Riding in the open air is easier. Your boots are in no danger.”
“To be safe . . .” He produced a small linen bag from his coat pocket and loosed the twine at the top to reveal a ginger candy. “May I interest you in a confection?”
“Do you regularly carry sweets in your pocket?” I asked, taking the sack.
“Only recently, Miss Kent.”
The curricle suddenly felt much too small for two people, and not knowing what to say, I ate another piece of ginger.
“And to answer your original question,” Damon said, “I have no destination in mind.”
“Ollie said—” My voice caught on his name, but I pushed passed it. “That is, your brother said you had business.”
“I was going to visit my father’s tenants to check on the harvest,” Damon said. “But now we are merely enjoying a leisurely ride together. We can return to the manor whenever you wish.”
“I have no wish to return anytime soon.” I was not prepared to face Ollie, nor Miss Digby, who was apparently coming to call upon me. “I would much rather join you in seeing to your affairs.”
Damon bounced the reins in his hand, his jaw tight. “You would not.”
“On the contrary, I am intrigued to learn what it is you do all day, and I should like to see your father’s holdings. In all the years I have been visiting Summerhaven, I have never been to the corner of your estate that houses your tenants.”
“That was not an accident, and we won’t be going there today.”
I frowned. “Then what do you propose we do? I refuse to go back to the house, and you refuse to go forward.”
“I suppose we shall have to drive the curricle in circles.”
“Without a chaperone? What will your mother think?”
“What she thinks is not my concern right now. Luckily, we are riding in an open-air curricle and have not ventured from my family’s estate. While our situation may not be strictly appropriate, it is also not entirelyinappropriate.”
“Yes, but your mother requested we have a chaperone, and I don’t want to disobey her wishes. Perhaps if we are seeing to your errand and surrounded by people, our offense would be much less severe.”
“Hannah,” Damon warned with a shake of his head.
“Damon.” I raised my chin. “Whatever it is you are hiding, I can handle it. I am not some helpless child you need to protect.”
He glanced at his handkerchief damp with my tears and the linen candy bag in my lap, then looked at me questioningly.
I quickly rearranged my hands over them. “I know you probably think me nothing more than a proper young lady who will swoon at the sight of sadness, but I’m certain Summerhaven is incapable of producing anything to rival the atrocities I’ve encountered in London with my service with the church. I’ve seen injured men returning from war, widowed women struggling to survive, and hordes of hungry, dirty children. So your tenants—even if they are struggling during this uncommonly rainy season—at least have a roof over their heads, fertile land to farm, and a wise and generous landlord.”
“I wish that were so,” Damon said. “Please allow me to spare you from this.”
