Not once had she ever seen him coming or going, which had left her feeling grateful, but also disappointed.
But she had known he was near.
Which had been utterly foolish, even if the information came in rather handy on this particular day.
“It’s not far,” she said, filling the silence.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know. Not with me.” He covered her hand with his, as though he knew…
Of coursehe knew.
The reality of walking beside him—the boy she had loved, the man who had shattered her heart—nearly made her stumble.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. “It is… surreal. Walking with you.”
His expression flickered. Was that regret? Sadness?
He didn’t let go of her hand. “Did you and I ever come to London together?”
She shook her head. “We spent endless hours in one another’s company, but we never left the estate together. We couldn’t, really.” She hesitated before adding, “If we happened to run into each other in the village, we’d lock eyes—but only for a second.”
It had been thrilling then, stolen moments that had felt like secrets only they shared. But later, with the clarity that came with heartbreak, she had realized those fleeting glances were not promises.
They had been warnings.
A glimpse of what the future held for them.
Betrayal. Separation.
Except… that wasn’t entirely true. Because here they were, walking together toward Hyde Park.
“Is any of this familiar?”
“It is,” he mused, glancing around as if seeing the city anew. “The air. The hackneys and carriages. The energy.” His brow furrowed, then smoothed. “I believe I own a racing curricle. A blue one. Someday, I’ll take you riding.”
“Oh, Alastair…” She sighed, unable to stop the wistful ache curling through her chest.
They walked in silence for several steps, the rhythmic sound of their footfalls filling the space between them.
Then, as if unearthing a long-buried truth, Alastair sighed. “I’m beginning to believe that, of the two of us, you were the practical one.”
Daisy nearly stumbled, because his words cut too close to the one thing they’d argued over most.
“It’s not that you weren’t practical,” she said carefully. “Only that… you wanted to believe practicality didn’t apply to you.”
His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. “And yet, it did. Apparently.” He exhaled, tilting his head toward her. “I’ve been thinking, a lot.” He shot her a sheepish look. “If I had been… more aware of my father’s expectations, and those of my uncle, I think… I hope that I would have handled matters differently.”
Matters.
Such a simple word for something that had upended her world.
Matters, as in a young man’s foolish hopes.
Matters, as in an affair that was never meant to last.
Matters, as in a love that had been doomed before it ever had a chance to begin.
“When we were younger, you rarely took my concerns seriously,” she murmured, a soft smile touching her lips. “It was oddly… endearing.”
