He wasn’t the chivalrous knight she’d imagined him to be.
From what she’d heard from the staff at the Grange and Jane’s gossip from around the county, Connor was droll of wit and capricious with his attentions. None of the ladies could capture his regard for more than a few minutes at a time. Good humor and fellowship might provide for an amusing diversion, but in her experience, they weren’t the qualities of a steadfast gentleman. A man who would be present when a lady needed him and honor the promises he made her.
She had no need for a man like her brother.
“At least you didn’t say, if one only had faith enough. I’ve heard that particular lie too many times.” A harsh huff of laughter burst from Piper, acrid in its lack of humor.
Trust wouldn’t be a risk. It would be foolhardy.
Her misgivings must have shown on her face. “What a suspicious lass ye are,” he chided with a hint of sadness. “Have ye never kent a person motivated by kindness alone?”
A denial died on the tip of her tongue. Too often she dwelled on the moment of her defeat, when she realized for the first time that she was vulnerable and alone. In those times, she neglected to remember therewascompassion in the world. She couldn’t say she’d never known people of that sort. The people of Dinton Grange showered and sheltered her with their kindness. Her secret was kept through Jane’s benevolence. By people she’d known her entire life.
Having it offered by a stranger after a sparse three meetings…well yes, she found his motivations suspect.
‘What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?’
As Mr. MacKintosh claimed one line from the book resonated with him, this one—much farther along in the story than she’d read today—leapt back into her memory with astonishing clarity despite the fact that it had been years since she’d read it. The tale proved itself anew to be far more relevant in her present day life than it had been before.
Distrust.
It was perhaps the source of all her loneliness. It had driven her to Aylesbury and kept her in hiding ever since. Distrust that her confidence in her brother would once again be unrequited.
She’d denied it at first. Held faith in Harry through dozens of unanswered letters, certain that he would come to her aid. Each day that passed without a response, her conviction had faltered. She hadn’t understood why he didn’t write her. Why he didn’t come home.
She still didn’t.
Despite her mother’s repetitive vitriol, she hadn’t wanted to believe that her brother would forsake her. Such sudden abandonment was out of character. Yet the daily letters Piper wrote left the house, and she was the first to check the incoming post each day. If her mother intercepted his missives, she’d never been able to determine how. A surreptitious visit to his townhouse in Belgravia led to the discovery that he’d left the country weeks before.
Through each upset, she’d held out hope beyond hope that it was all a misunderstanding. Harry would return and confirm her unshakeable trust in the end.
He hadn’t.
Then it had been too late. Whatever reasons he might have had to excuse or validate his absence, no longer mattered to her. Her belief in her brother had cracked, then shattered. She’d ended up facing her circumstances alone.
Loneliness was a small price to pay for escape.
Throwing her hands in the air, Piper spun around and walked away from Connor. Where she would go with him following behind, she didn’t know. Going to the Grange would heap interrogations aplenty upon the staff there. Those shedidtrust to keep her presence—if not her actual secrets—concealed. They didn’t deserve to be questioned for their friendship and loyalty.
Nor could she retreat to her cottage lest he follow. Her single sanctuary, the only place she was sure no one would find her.
Was there anything more she could do but walk in circles until night fell and it was too dark for him to track her movements?
With a frown, Piper glanced over her shoulder to see Connor with his arms crossed over his chest and legs braced, watching her. He hadn’t advanced a single step.
He was going to let her go? Just like that? Why?
Because he’d said she could trust him.
Because he wanted to prove it?
Piper swung around again and forged onward. Faith and trust. No, she wasn’t as naïve as she’d once been.
The bonds of friendship fostered more faith than promises. In the end, the only one she’d been able to count on to rescue her from a doomed future had been herself. She was her own heroine. She didn’t need a white knight. Pinning her hopes on another fickle male would be a mistake.
Her head waggled back and forth of its own accord as she walked, as if refuting the direction of her thoughts. Forall his assurance that he’d subtly searched for her, Connor had known of her presence for months without pushing for answers from the two people who would be able to answer them. He hadn’t questioned the steward, Mr. Larkin, and he hadn’t written Harry inquiring about her, she knew. For surely if he had, her brother would have recognized the name no one else had. Lillian Milbourne. A combination of her middle name and his mother’s maiden name. While he may not have bothered to return himself, he would have undoubtedly sent word to her mother.
Neither had come to Dinton Grange which meant, in essence, that Connor had allowed Piper her secrets, as he said. If she could find it in herself to trust him, she might alleviate her loneliness in the process.
