‘It’s not the house that’s the problem, and you know it.’Lorelei shook her head.‘I’ll not ruin his chances to make his own way.’
Tillman, beautiful stalwart Tillman, nodded with understanding.All those years earlier, she’d known what would come of marrying a common man, but the coldness of the cut had still hurt.The turned backs.The whispers.The awkward hellos and broken goodbyes.The same people who had smiled and made small talk while a duke had humiliated her possessed no tolerance for her happiness.One trip to London had been sufficient to show her that, unless she gave up Tillman, she would remain forever banished.
And she had no intention of giving him up.
‘You did good with him.He might not know it yet, but you did.’He pulled her against his side and kissed her forehead.‘Come check the fields with me?’
‘I am not dressed for riding,’ she protested.
‘That’s never stopped you before,’ he said with a smirk.‘I’ll tuck up your skirts.We’ll make the horses go at a walk, and besides, Melody has never been spooked.It’s a glorious day.We should enjoy it while it lasts.’
They wandered across to the stables.Sunlight painted a path between the puddles, and they picked their way along the dry patches together.Melody whickered and nuzzled into her shoulder when they arrived, and Lorelei stroked the mare’s nose as Tillman fixed her saddle.There was no point protesting and getting him to call a groom—he’d not allow anyone else to do it.As always, her chest tightened and her knees turned weak as she watched him.Still, even after all these years.
Her protector.
Her everything.
At last, Tillman knelt and interlaced his fingers to boost her into the side saddle, then tucked her skirts beneath her as she hooked her leg around the pommel.He pulled himself onto Buttercup, and with a click and a light tap, the horses moved out of the stables and onto one of the paths that ran along the edges of the fields and hedgerows.
Robins chased bugs, leaves slipped and spun, and in the late yellow sun, Tillman’s salt-and-pepper hair, worn long and loose today, shone with a golden hue.Not for the first time, Lorelei wished she could have given him a child.She would have loved to have filled the manor with small feet and little giggles, with magic and young voices.Was the problem her or him?They would never know.The truth became its own answer—it wasn’t meant to be.
‘Your boy is grown now.’Tillman sneaked his observation into the quiet.‘He’s paid attention and studied.He could manage the estate on his own, even from a distance.Or hire someone and know if they were doing a good job.’
‘Did he say he wants to run things himself?’she asked.
Tillman laughed.‘No.He knows his wheat from his chaff, which is more than you could ever say about William, but the land is not in his heart.He asked me if I’d keep managing everything while he’s away.I said I’d talk to you about what you wanted to do, now he’s grown.’
Lorelei rolled with the horse’s steady walk.‘Do you want to leave?’she tried, testing his question for some hidden meaning.
‘The question wasn’t about me.’He spoke with a hint of impatience and collected the reins so Buttercup slowed to a stop.Lorelei reined in Melody beside him.‘I’m askingyou.Not the duchess.Not the duke’s mother.I am asking my wife, Lorelei.You’ve lived your life around others.What do you want foryourself?’
‘Myself?I scarcely know.’Despite the fact that it was Tillman asking, her heart still leapt with fear at confessing to such uncertainty.And so she did what she always did in these moments: seek his reassurance, his gentle smile, his dark eyes, and patient countenance.Her heart slowed, and her blood settled.While doubts like this struck her far less often than they used to, they still surfaced from time to time.But a little indecision didn’t bother him, because nothing bothered him.‘I like to ride.Daily, when the weather is good.’
He clicked his tongue, and the horses fell into their gentle motion again.
‘Nothing more?Just riding?’he asked.
The path wound along the hedgerows, thick with tangles.Small birds leapt about and hid between the branches, making the outer twigs tremble.On their other side, dry heads of barley scratched against one another.They’d start the harvest in a few days if the sky stayed clear, and thank the heavens, it looked clear.
Tillman watched her, waiting.
‘When I was young, I spent so much time learning how to be good at things.I never even thought about whether I enjoyed them.I sometimes wonder about painting or the piano.Or gardening—actual gardening, not just picking flowers.I’d like to try some of those things again and decide for myself if I like them.’
‘The gardening I can help with,’ he said.‘There’s space just there, between the house and the cottage.’He pointed to a patch of lawn on the incline of the hill that stretched before the manor.‘I can’t imagine Arley will object.’
‘What a funny life we lead.’Lorelei reached out, and Tillman matched her movement to grab a hold of her hand.‘Perched in other men’s houses.Reliant on their whims.Does it bother you?’
He shrugged.‘I don’t think much about it.But if we’re speaking of houses, I have been wondering… We’ve been living in the manor these past six years.It’s very nice in the big house.Very fancy.But I find it a bit… big.’
‘I am not ready to move to the Dower House,’ she objected.‘I don’t know if Ieverwill be.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the Dower House.’He gestured again, this time more deliberately, waving in the direction of the manager’s cottage that had been shut up since they’d married.‘I know it doesn’t have all the bedrooms and the wall carpets and the many dressing rooms and furniture, but the manager’s cottage is comfortable.Cosy.I thought it might be nice if, for a few years, we could be just… us.’
‘Just us?’
‘It’s got three rooms, plus the kitchen and the hearth.We could use one room for sleeping, one for working, and one for whatever you like.For the painting or a piano or for both.Neither takes up much space.The big house will still be there with the library, and you can keep your fancy dresses and all the rest.’
‘No staff?’
