It was his expression. Earlier, he’d appeared cold and dismissive. Now, he appeared to be a man… tortured.
And a possibility niggled at her.
He’d treated her like a stranger, almost, and she’d assumed it was because he was heartless.
But after a night of contemplating all the facts, she dismissed that explanation.
Reed? Heartless? Never.
“You’ve been… wonderful. In fact, I don’t deserve you.” She played the words over and over in her mind. His voice had caught. And he’d not been able to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds.
Less than one month ago, he’d lost half his family in one night. As the new earl, he’d been expected to carry on as if nothing had happened.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Goldie donned her dressing gown, stepped into her slippers, and hoped she remembered the way to the servants’ exit so she could get to him. Left. Yes, and then right. And then through the kitchens.
Four men had died.
Four men who, although undisciplined and immoral human beings, had been constants in Reed’s life. And then Reed had become Standish.
She stepped outside but then paused. What if she was wrong?
What if his cold demeanor was not because he’d felt undeserving?
But what if she was right?
She forced herself to cross the lawn and then follow the sounds of the axe splitting wood, around the path to the gardener’s hut.
At first, uncertain and doubting herself, she simply stood back, observing. His motions were steady but fierce. Most pieces of wood split all the way through on the first swing.
He didn’t notice her for a while, but when she crossed her arms to keep from shivering, he stilled.
“Go back inside, Goldie.” He didn’t look at her, but stood motionless.
“You said you were all right. You lied to me,” she said.
Finally, he turned to face her. “I didn’t.”
Goldie inhaled a sharp breath. She’d never seen a man like this before and it took all of Goldie’s focus to concentrate on this conversation rather than his sinewy chest and abdomen. He was…
Spectacular.
“You were happy at the church.” She was taking a chance with her guess. “Right up until you realized you were not.”
He shook his head, but at least he wasn’t telling her to go away again.
“I saw it in your eyes,” she insisted.
Reed shook his head and then swung the axe, causing his muscles to ripple and flex as he split a giant log in half. “It’s not right.” Was there a hint of uncertainty in his voice?
“What isn’t right?”
“Any of it.” He dropped the axe and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees, staring at the ground. A shudder ran through his form, and his breaths sounded loud in the early morning silence. “I knew they were tempting fate. I could have joined them that night. If I’d been there, I could have put it out. If I was there, it might not even have happened.”
“The fire,” she said and then exhaled. Of course.
Her father had believed the rumors. He’d been convinced Reed had set it—that Reed had taken advantage of the other men’s addictions in a manner that he would benefit. Not once had she believed the rumors could be true.
