Dal nodded. “Very well. We will put the notion of letters to your family aside. For now. I still believe it might result in more information, but I will wait until you think the time is right.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Dal. And I will write to them, I promise. I suppose I’d like to see our Mr. Finn in better fettle before doing so.”
“He improves…”
“Indeed he does. Coming downstairs when Winnie screamed? That must have taken a lot of effort, since he’s been off his feet for quite a few days.”
“I believe the gentleman to be of a determined disposition, Miss Hecate. I will also add that he is well-spoken, which argues for an educated upbringing. Not one of the lower classes. Now that he is awake, he will be set on making progress on all fronts.” Dal paused. “He needs clothes.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “If we can get some measurements, I’ll ask Mrs. Tompkins in the village if she can run up a few things.”
Dal pursed his lips. “Have you considered that it’s not just your family who might find Finn’s presence here somewhat improper?”
“Oh dear.” Hecate rolled her eyes. “You’re right. Once the village finds out there’s an unmarried man in one of my rooms…I shall be either ostracized or besieged.”
“He cannot be your family. There is no similarity at all that could be marked by eager eyes.”
“A cousin perhaps?” Hecate thought about it. “One of my brothers-in-law?”
“You’d have to invent another sister, then dispose of her, since I doubt she’d be willing to leave her husband here with you. And that also wouldn’t help with the missing memory problem.”
“I suppose not.” She tapped her fingertips together. “I would be able to supply many basic memories for a family member. I cannot do that for Mr. Finn.”
“One solution would be to travel further than Little Beechwood. If I borrowed a horse, I could easily reach Bideford. Less attention would be paid to my ordering clothing from there.” He glanced at her. “I might even find some clothing ready-made, which would tide him over for a few days.”
Hecate leaned back and closed her eyes. “Damn propriety.” She opened them again. “That is a good idea, Dal, if you’re willing to go. I would like it if you were to replace your cloak at the same time. I’m sorry we couldn’t clean it, but I believe we did the right thing. And it has reminded me that now the stables are nearly finished, we really must see to getting some animals in there.”
Dal regarded her with a sober expression. “Riding will not be possible for you, Miss Hecate.”
She swallowed. “I know, Dal. I know. But if we can find ourselves the right horses, then a small gig for me and a mount for you should be all we require? It will allow me to get around a lot more and give you a chance to see more of the countryside than is visible in a walk.”
It wasn’t easy, she realised. There were things she’d given up as she recovered…she would never be able to lightly trip up and down the dance floor to the strains of a sprightly country dance, nor would she be able to ride again. Her hip had healed and it worked. But only up to a point. She discovered her limits not long after the bones had knitted, and reminded herself that she could walk, manage stairs—although she felt better with a cane in her hand—and care for herself. She still had both limbs, and she was alive.
She knew how much she had to be grateful for, so spent as little time as possible regretting what she had lost.
After all, it had been her own damn fault.
She’d made the mistake of thinking she’d fallen in love—and for the first time in her life, she hadignored her senses.
She would never do that again.
