Unable to help himself, Lucas said, “There you go, nodding. It must mean something.”
A bright smile bloomed on her face. “I deserved that, most certainly. Forgive my prying.”
“You are forgiven.”
“My, but you are easy to make amends with. Thank you.”
He nodded but stopped halfway through the action, jerking his head back to a neutral position in such an awkward movement that they both began laughing. Lucas was almost surprised by the sound. When was the last time he’d truly laughed?
He had nearly laughed the night before—he remembered Miss Faraday commenting on it. But before then? His family was funny. His friends were funny. Why then could he not remember? He was always careful in his actions, that was necessary, but he’d never intended to cut out a little gaiety. Had he?
He might have. The idea was saddening. Marietta was the happiest, most lively person he’d known; she would have been more than a little frustrated with Lucas if this was how he’d chosen to live his life, especially as he was supposed to be dedicating that very lifetoher.
“What are you thinking of just now?” Miss Faraday asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Lucas blinked, realizing he’d stopped walking again. “Nothing. I apologize.” He started walking but did not miss the falling of Miss Faraday’s expression.
He swallowed. He did not feel good about having caused that crestfallen expression on his companion’s face, but he also did not wish to explain just what he was thinking of. His sister was not a topic he embarked on withanyone.
But he did not have to go into depth about it. So, swallowing again, he said, “I was thinking of my sister.” Then he quickly added, “Just passing thoughts.”
He looked steadily forward, not wanting to see her expression. Or for her to see his, as she was apparently making a habit of deciphering his mannerisms.
“Your sister?”
“Indeed.”
She made a sound of contemplation but said nothing more. For a time, they walked in silence, and he welcomed it. Not because he did not want to speak to Miss Faraday—in truth, she was more than an amiable conversation partner—but because it was refreshing to find someone with whom the silence did not feel empty or forced.
The soft padding of their feet crossing the grassy earth coupled with the sounds of nature—birds and wind and the like—accompanied their ascent to the top of the hill. Lucas led Miss Faraday to a spot he recalled from the last trip he’d made here some years before.
“It is beautiful,” Miss Faraday said when they stopped to take in the view.
“That is Pen Ponds.” Lucas pointed at the bodies of water. “And beyond the trees there is a lodge, but you cannot see it well from here.”
Miss Faraday looked where he indicated. “I like that I cannot. It is very nearly like being in the country again.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Very much so. That is silly, isn’t it? Many young women dream of wearing glittering ball gowns and dancing the night away in a fancy house.”
“But you do not?”
Her smile seemed almost sad as she looked out over the park in front of them. “I simply want...” She trailed off, sighing. “In truth, I just want to do whatIwant.” She pressed her lips together. “That sounds more than a little vain, I know, but I grow weary of living a life dictated by another.” She paused, andhe anticipated that there was more she was not saying. So he waited. “Honestly, though, I think my truest dreams are of the past. I often wish I could go back to the way things were.”
“When?”
“Before my parents died.” The single sentence was wrought with feeling. The words themselves almost seemed to fall flat as she said them, carried by the wind down the hill. But the ache within them stayed, filling the air in a near-visceral way. Lucas caught a glimpse at what lay behind Miss Faraday’s smiles and pleasant conversation.
It was fractured. Much like him.
“It is silly; I can hardly remember them... I should not miss them so.”
His throat felt thick as his own memories of the past surged up, as they had been so often as of late. He pushed them back, but they pushed against his walls in a way that was new and yet familiar, as if they begged to be freed in some small amount. “My sister passed away. My twin sister.”
Miss Faraday looked at him, not in surprise, in commiseration. “I am sorry.”
He could tell she was.
