"I saw the stable."
He nodded. "One of the horses nearly got away, but luckily she was caught."
"I’d like to help, if I can. Will you let me? Will you show me the damage?"
Ezra cocked his head to one side. "I will, if we can finish our earlier conversation."
Constance swallowed and nodded. The conversation had to be had – she would just prefer it to be in private.
She followed him up the stairs, along a corridor, and into an unused bedroom, where light from outside was coming through a hole in the roof.
"The damage is mainly in the attics, but there are some rooms which sit directly beneath the outer roof, and those were weak, it seems," he said, then turned to her. "Now, what were you saying?"
"I keep… I keep letting myself think that there is something between us. That you…that you are interested in me, as a woman, as I am interested in you."
Chapter Twenty-Three
He wasn’t sure what was stopping him telling her that she was right, except perhaps a desire to let her finish what she had to say before interrupting.
"And then…and then there always seems to be something that makes that seem ridiculous. Your mother’s reaction, for one, or the gossips at the balls who say how plain I am, or you dancing with my sister, or—"
"None of that means anything, Constance. None of that is how I feel."
"But it was, don’t you see? When you saw me in your hallway and I was not dressed as a lady, you wanted me gone, without time to explain. You saw nothing but a plain woman invading your space – and there will always be someone prettier, someone better suited to being a countess, who comes along." She blushed furiously and looked at the floor. "If that was even what you had in mind."
He hated that she was so unsure of herself, and yet he also did not feel she was being wholly fair to him. She had been an intruder in his home, and perhaps he had behaved more harshly than was necessary, but he did not think his response had been because of her looks. And his mother’s reaction was not fair, and he would have to speak to her about it – but he had never saidthose things. He thought she was beautiful, and the only woman he could imagine as his countess.
But there was a knock on the door before he could say any of that, and a footman entered carrying buckets and rags.
"I’m sorry, my lord. I just wanted to make sure everything was protected before any further rain."
Ezra swallowed, his mouth suddenly bone dry, and nodded. "Of course. We’ll get out of your way."
Constance followed him. "Where else is damaged?"
"It’s on the other side of the castle," he said.
"Can I see?" she asked.
He wanted to say no, but what excuse could he possibly give? "I… I suppose so."
They walked in silence, the weight of the conversation between them heavy, and all the while Ezra wondered if he ought to ask her to marry him now, this very afternoon, to make it clear that all her worries were for naught – that there was no one else for him, and it did not matter how beautiful a woman walked before him; he was never going to want to marry anyone else.
And then he reached the damaged wing – the countess’s chambers, leading to the nursery –and his hand stopped on the door.
"I… I can’t."
Constance frowned. "Why not?"
"I– I’m sorry," he said, memories flashing through his mind of the last time he had stepped into those chambers, of the nursery at the other end, of the misery that filled that wing. "Please excuse me – but I can’t."
And then he turned on his heel and left, abandoning her, unable to face the past.
And if he couldn’t even enter the countess’s chambers, how on earth did he think he could possibly remarry?
???
Lady Constance Beaumont had never been so shocked in her entire life. She didn’t know why Ezra could not show her the rooms, although she rather suspected they were something to do with the late countess. But he had practically run away from her, leaving her stranded in a corridor on the far side of the castle, with no explanation.
