“Not another picnic, I hope?”
She chuckled. “You did enjoy the first one. Don’t try to pretend otherwise. But no, that’s not what I have in mind for us today.”
“Will Emma be joining us?”
She paused, turning to face him. “Emma is with Agnes,” she said. “I thought you could use some time to yourself.”
“You thought I would want to be without her?”
“I know you’ll never admit it,” Bridget said. “I know how hard it is for you to even think such a thing right now. It feels like you’re saying you’re ungrateful to have her back. But that’s not what it means. You want to take a break from worry, Reeves. That’s all it is. And you should have that.”
She turned and continued out the door before he had a chance to respond.
Reeves stood frozen for a moment. She had so easily given voice to something he was feeling—something he hadn’t even beenwilling to admit to himself. What was more, she didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong or shocking about what she had described. She wasn’t appalled at him for wanting a bit of distance from his daughter. She seemed to think it was normal.
And maybe it is. The way she describes it, she certainly makes it sound normal. It’s true that being around Emma right now is a source of anxiety. All I do is think about what a failure I am. I don’t want to be apart from my daughter… but I do want to stop having that thought, if only for a few hours.
He didn’t argue as she led the way down the front steps and across the lawn. His eyebrows lifted, though, when he saw her intended destination. “The stable?”
“I thought it might be nice to take a ride.”
“It’s a bit cold for that, don’t you think?”
“We have cloaks,” she pointed out. “And the horses will keep us warm. I think it will be all right. Besides, I haven’t seen much of your estate yet beyond the house. I’d like to take the opportunity to see a little more, especially if I’m going to be returning home soon.”
“I thought you were adamant that you wouldnotbe leaving any time soon,” he reminded her, lifting his eyebrows.
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” she agreed. “It remains to be seen how much say I will have. I can be stubborn, and I knowit, but I can’t force you to keep me in your house if you’ve truly decided I ought to go.”
Reeves didn’t know what to say. She was right, of course. He hadn’t given her any indication that he intended to let her stay—he wasn’t sure he did intend it. But sending her away against her will didn’t feel right at all.
She didn’t appear to be waiting for an answer. She had turned toward one of the horses as if intent on bringing it out of its stall.
“Not that one,” Reeves said. “That one is too energetic.” He went to one of his mildest horses and led it out for her. “You can take this one.”
“I’m sure I can handle any of them,” she said.
“Do you ride, then?”
“Not for a few years. Not much opportunity at the orphanage. But growing up, I rode quite a lot,” she said. “Sometimes it felt as though that was my only refuge—the only way to get away from my parents and the constant demands they placed on me.”
He brought out his own favorite horse and was about to help her onto the one he’d selected for her, but she stepped into the stirrup and swung herself up all on her own. Positioning her skirts carefully about her legs, she took the reins in her hands and gave him a small smile. “Shall we be off?”
He had to admit, he was impressed. He mounted his own horse and kicked it into a slow walk, leading her out of the stable and into the grass outside.
They rode in silence for a while. Reeves was unsure of what to say, of how to make sense of this whole situation. Why had she brought him out here? She must have some goal in doing so—it couldn’t have been simply to give him a break from his worries.
Without meaning to, he turned his horse’s head toward the lake at the back of the grounds. Bridget followed along. It was as good a destination as any, and one he had often chosen for himself when going for a ride during happier times.
As the horses settled in, Bridget spoke at last. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning,” she said. “About how you blame yourself for the kidnapping.”
Well, that was blunt.Of course he’d known she would be pondering it, but even for her, to bring it up so bluntly was bold. He said nothing.
“There are a lot of things parents can do wrong by their children,” she said. “I certainly know my share when it comes to that. I was raised by parents who failed me, Reeves, parents I couldn’t possibly trust to keep me safe. And I want you to hear me when I say that you are not like that in the least. You are a completely different sort of man.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here,” he said. “But you can’t convince me that what happened wasn’t my fault.”
“What happened was the fault of the kidnapper,” she said. “I’ve tried to convince you of this before. And I think you know I’m right. I think you take responsibility for it because you want this to be something you can control. If it’s your fault, you know what went wrong and how to prevent it in the future. If it’s your fault, hating yourself becomes the solution to your problem, and that’s something you can do.”
