I bit my lip, wishing that I could confide in her, but of course I could not. I’d made such a mull of things, and there was nothing to be done about it. “I am only a little worried Ollie won’t approve of my dress.”
“Oh, is that all?” She smiled kindly. “Well, I do not think you need to worry whether or not he approves of your dress. He will not be the one wearing it after all.”
A light laugh broke through my melancholy.
“I do understand your concern, though. Ollie has always been overly obsessed with Society’s opinion of him,” she said. She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Damon is quite the opposite though, don’t you think?”
“In almost every way,” I said quietly, a lump growing in my throat.
“It is an interesting thing to mother sons. I wish so desperately for each of their happiness.” Lady Winfield grew quiet for a moment. “I hope you will forgive my impertinence, but I must ask, do you love my son, Hannah?”
I sucked in a surprised breath. Was she asking if I loved Ollie or if I loved Damon? She had spoken of both men in this conversation. “W-which son are you speaking of, my lady?”
“Thatis my question.”
My cheeks burned under her observation. Not knowing how to answer, I bit my lip. Lady Winfield had invited me to Summerhaven in hopes of Ollie and me forming an attachment. When that had not gone according to her plan, she’d hinted that she wished for Damon and me to form an attachment. And we had, however impossible our union might be now.
“Forgive me, Lady Winfield. I should like to answer your question, but—” my words caught in my throat, and I only barely willed my chin not to quiver.
She gave me a small, sympathetic nod as if she somehow understood. And as we walked to the carriage in silence, my heart had never felt heavier. Not only was I losing the man I loved, but I was also losing Lady Winfield—another connection to Mama.
***
Back at the manor, I retired upstairs to the library, wishing to be alone, to be close to Mama. Dark wood bookshelves lined the walls, and two large windows supplied the room with an abundance of light. I could almost picture Mama sitting in the window seat with a book in her hand. On the north side of the room, next to an unlit fireplace, was an armchair and a small table. On it was a thickly bound green book—the one I’d often seen Damon studying.
Curious to know what he’d been reading all summer, I crossed the room. I ran my fingers over the gold-embossed title on the cover,Agriculture and Industryby A. Wilson Smith. I smiled wistfully. Damon had been trying to help his tenants all along.
I sat in the armchair and leafed through the book. Bits of torn paper with scribbled notes were tucked between the pages. I pulled one out and read a detailed note he’d scribbled about the best practices for crop rotation. I rubbed the slip between my fingers. What he’d chosen to sacrifice for his family and for Summerhaven was admirable, but that did not make this any easier.
“I know what you are doing,” a deep voice came from the door.
I quickly closed Damon’s book and whirled in my seat, hoping to see Damon standing in the threshold, but no, it was Ollie.
“What is it youthinkI’m doing?” I asked.
“Avoiding me,” he said. “And quite well too. May I join you?”
“Of course.”
Ollie strode into the library and sat on the window seat. “Do you remember how our mothers used to sit here and watch us play in the garden?”
“I was thinking of it just before you walked into the library. It is one of my fondest memories.”
“Did you know they used to plan for our nuptials?” A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“Yes.” My cheeks warmed. “Papa told me the story before I came here this summer.”
He turned away from the window to face me. “I know I’ve made many mistakes this summer, but I would like to mend things between us. I cannot bear to have you hate me.”
“Hate you? I could neverhateyou, Ollie.”
“Then why are you hiding in the library?”
Ollie knew me so well. I looked at Damon’s book in my lap, ashamed. “Because I’m . . .”heartbroken, I wanted to say, but not wishing to hurt Ollie further, I settled on, “Confused.”
“How could you not be?” he said. “Damon lured you into a ruse and then abandoned you when it no longer suited him.”
“This is not his fault.” None of this was his fault; we were both victims. “He did not lure me. I entered freely into our charade.”
