“I meant to give this to you before.”
She nodded slowly. “Where is he buried?”
He’d guessed she’d eventually ask for more details. “We couldn’t recover...” He gestured toward the bag. “This is everything.” It was all the insurgents had sent back. They’d kept Gil’s sword, his pistol, and of course, his horse. Luke had inspected the few contents left over to represent a man’s life. Not much but they were some of the last items Gil had touched.
She hugged the bag close. “Thank you.” It was as though today she’d built a barrier around her emotions.
“The thing is, Mrs. Gilcrest…” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere until I receive word from the War Office, and I’ll be fit for Bedlam without anything productive to do. I’d be grateful if you’d put me to work.”
For the first time since he told her about Gil two days ago, the look she sent him wasn’t filled with abject sorrow, resentment, or even polite devastation. For the flash of an instant, he spied a glimmer of the girl he’d met last spring.
“Arthur asked you to look out for me.” Her eyes were sad, but there was also a hint of resigned exasperation in those stormy depths.
“He would have done the same for me.” It was true. Only no one had been waiting for Luke to return, no one who needed him, anyhow. “We were like brothers.”
She dipped her chin and her slate-colored gaze perused the land around them. “I know.” And then she sighed. “Arthur has such grand ideas for this cottage…Hadsuch grand ideas. He managed a few repairs before he left, but…” She grimaced and lifted her hand to point at some trim hanging from the porch roof. “He isn’t as skilled a carpenter as we had hoped.”
At this, Luke chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Luckily, he had other valuable skills. He was a master at reading and drawing up maps. Did you know that?”
“He might have bragged about that just a little. Perhaps the first time we met.”
“At the Willoughby Ball?”
She nodded. “I’m certain that if my parents could undo one thing in their lives, it would be allowing that introduction.”
“I can’t say that I blame them.” Luke nearly bit his tongue after the admission. As far as he knew, Gil had been loyal to his wife. Luke would allow Gil the benefit of the doubt and believe that marriage had changed him.
Of course it had changed him. What man wouldn’t be faithful to the woman standing before him? “Perhaps they will change their minds once they’ve met their grandchild.”
Mrs. Gilcrest shook her head gently. “My mother, sister, and brother have all been forbidden to write to me. All my life, I’ve thought I would have my family’s unwavering support. I thought that was what love was about.” She offered the information easily.
“Do you regret it?”
She tightened her jaw, and not for the first time, Luke noticed her hand circling the material of her dress where it caught at the top of her belly. “Never.”
“Is it possible they will see things differently now, knowing you are alone?”
“I think my father will say I invited it.”
Luke couldn’t stop the grunt of disgust at her comment. Each new revelation he gleaned from their conversation reaffirmed his decision to remain here for at least a few weeks.
His gaze landed on one of the puddles from last night’s rain. “Did the roof hold up against the storm?”
She winced.
“I suppose that’s as good a place as any to begin.” He’d barely uttered the words when the door to the cottage swung open. Mrs. Gilcrest’s housekeeper stepped out onto the porch, but before the woman could do or say anything else, she tripped on one of the floorboards and only barely managed to avoid falling.Words that would have blistered any soldier’s ears flew from her mouth.
“Perhaps you should start a little lower,” her mistress suggested.
And then he saw it. That hint of a smile. His chest loosened the slightest amount. Hell, if he’d had that smile waiting for him, there was no way in hell he would have accepted another mission. Gil had been an idiot. A selfishfuckingidiot.
But Luke wasn’t allowed to think that. He also needed to stop thinking of Gil’s wife in terms of complimentary adjectives.
Because Gil was dead. She was mourning the loss of him.
Luke swallowed hard. “Tools in the stable?”
Her answer was to shrug, as though their brief conversation had exhausted her. Her grief was a palpable thing.
