Instead, he saw understanding. And he saw… admiration.
“Dearest Luke.” She tilted her head. “You are no coward. When we first met, Arthur spoke of you with more than a little awe. Almost as though you were too good of a person to befriend such a rogue as him.” She smiled fondly. “He was particularly impressed with one particular incident—a schoolhouse that had caught fire in the small town your unit occupied. He said everyone had given up on two small children who’d been unaccounted for, but you ran in and saved them.”
Luke waved a hand through the air, shaking his head. “Anyone would do that.”
“But no one else did. And what you did mattered. It meant the world to those children and their mother. You are no coward.”
He smiled grimly, uncomfortable discussing himself.
Running into that fire hadn’t cost him anything, whereas he’d cost others so much.
“I’m surprised Arthur had anything good to say about me back then.”
“Why?”
Was he really going to tell her all of this right now?
He stared straight ahead, not really seeing the autumn splendor but remembering springtime in London. “Do you remember when we danced? At the Willoughby Ball? And then when I rowed the two of us around the lake at Lady Chamberlayne’s garden party?”
“I remember that you were quite charming. The ladies didn’t stand a chance against so many handsome officers last spring.” She glanced down at where her hand rested on his. “Of course I remember, Luke.”
He sat silently, considering the wisdom of making yet another embarrassing admission. Likely by the time he finished talking with her this morning, she’d be anxious to send him on his way.
And yet her comforting presence had him telling her anyway.
“Later that evening, following the garden party…” Luke turned his head and caught her gaze. “I informed Gil that I was going to court you. Of course, you’d already given Gil permission to do so. We nearly came to blows over it… over you.” He’d been disappointed, but he hadn’t known her long enough to be devastated.
In the end, Luke had stepped away. He wasn’t the sort to thwart a friend like that.
A pretty blush turned Naomi’s cheeks a gentle rose color.
“And the rest is history.” Luke smiled grimly.
She remained unmoving on the bench, looking stunned but not angry or disgusted.
“You should fetch your wrap.” Having made something of a fool of himself, Luke rose and then reached down to help her stand since doing so was sometimes awkward for her. He hated to see her struggle even a little.
But once she was on her feet, he quickly dropped her hand and stepped back. Best to end this conversation before he poured any more of his heart out to her.
“I’ll bring the cart and horses around shortly.”
He shouldn’t have told her.
LIES AND BROKEN PROMISES
Naomi climbed the stairs to her chamber, her mind caught up in a whirlwind of sensations. This was the first time Luke had told her anything about himself, and she was warmed that he had. No doubt, Luke Cockfield was the most compassionate person she’d ever known. Of course, she’d never experienced battle. She couldn’t begin to comprehend the violence or the ensuing devastation. But she’d overheard stories told by a few of her uncles who had fought at Waterloo.
Gruesome, harrowing stories.
And this man, the second son of one of England’s most enigmatic dukes, possessed a heart of gold. He did not require awards or medals to prove it. He’d exhibited his exceptional character from the moment he climbed off his horse to give her word of Arthur’s death in person.
He hadn’t been required to deliver such news in person. Most widows were only afforded a brief letter; some discovered the loss of their loved one by reading about it in theGazette.
Drawing the edges of her shawl around her shoulders, she stared into the small looking glass over her vanity.
Upon reflection, she had recognized his goodness last spring.
And now, as if to contrast that goodness specifically, she had this message from the War Office to contend with.
