“I need to speak with Mr.Welbourne. Do you know where he is?”
“’E’s on t’ outdoor patrol. Shall I collect ’im for you?”
She shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll wait for him to return. Thank you.”
Determined to enjoy the day’s last rays of sunlight, Charlotte carried Henry out to the gardens behind the house. Silvery clouds were gathering, and the indigo and mauve shades of dusk were intensifying. Night would be here soon. She tightened the Prussian blue shawl about her shoulders and walked to the garden’s wooden gate.
As the gate swung open, genuine enthusiasm met her. She and her mother would spend hours here, tending to hollyhocks and dahlias, lavender and verbena. It was all overgrown now, but an eagerness to revive it to its former glory budded within her.
The gardens themselves were large enough for several mature trees and intricate groupings of hawthorn and holly bushes. Ivy, faded by autumn’s crispness, nearly obscured the drystone walls, and the brambles and branches grew free. She strolled down the brick path, marveling as fresh memories were unearthed with each step. For the first time since her arrival at Hollythorne House, thetension in her shoulders seemed to ease. She retrieved a wooden rattle from the pocket on the front of her apron and handed it to Henry, who waved it and laughed.
She indulged in a deep breath. She could be happy here. Henry could be happy here.
The gate squeaked on its hinges, interrupting her reverie, and she looked up from her musings to see Anthony approaching.
Four years ago, the very thought of being alone with him in a secluded garden would have set her imagination aflame, but time, with its cruel twists and turns, had unwittingly turned so many tides. She barely knew what to make of the feelings churning within. How she wished this painful pull of attraction to him did not exist, but then again, she’d always been drawn to him, from the very first time she saw him on Blight Moor.
He bowed briefly and then spoke as he approached. “Timmons said you needed to speak with me.”
“Yes.” She pivoted, Henry still in her arms. “Tomorrow Sutcliffe must travel to Leeds and will require an escort. I was hoping you could make the arrangements.”
His expression remained stoic. “Of course. But perhaps Timmons or I could see to the errand on MissSutcliffe’s behalf.”
She shook her head. She could never bring herself to admit to him that she needed to sell her jewelry to raise money. Her pride would not permit it. “The errand is of a personal nature. Sutcliffe is quite capable.”
“I’ve no doubt she is, but she’d be safer here. She might be recognized and, as a result, followed.”
Charlotte kept her gaze steady. “I’m not in hiding,Mr. Welbourne. In fact, I do not believe I am in danger in the least, and I will conduct myself as such. It is my brother-in-law who fears for our safety. Not me.”
He looked past her, out to the moors. A thick lock of hair escaped his queue and curled roguishly about his face. The scar on his face was sharp and jagged, yet the curve of his jaw was captivating and as strong and defined as it ever was.
“Very well,” he relented. “If you’re insistent. Timmons can escort her.”
She thought of the flush in her maid’s cheeks at the sight of him earlier in the day. “Can Mr.Timmons be trusted? As a gentleman?”
Anthony’s dark brow rose. After not seeing so much as a smile on his face since their arrival at Hollythorne House, she thought she detected a hint of amusement flash in his large eyes before he once again sobered. “I’ve trusted Timmons with my life. I know of no man who is more reliable.”
The weighty statement caught her off guard, and she tensed at the confident nature in his voice—the same tone he had always employed: conviction when he spoke of his intention. Of the commission. Of his opinions. Of his birthright. He’d always acted as if once a decision was made, no other option was possible.
At one time such determined self-assurance was comforting.
Now it was disarming.
Henry dropped the rattle he had been holding and it clattered to the brick path beneath them. Immediately Anthony bent down to retrieve it and extended it to her son. The corner of his mouth lifted at the baby’s enthusiasm.
Anthony used to smile so easily and frequently. His laugh hadbeen contagious. His manner carefree. What had happened to him to bring about such a change?
Regret for speaking to Anthony so coolly up to this point was beginning to take hold. Perhaps he really was trying to assist her, as he said. For so long she’d been around people who would take advantage of every situation that she forgot any other sort existed. When had she become so jaded that she no longer saw kindness when it was extended toward her?
She would be uneasy with him until she addressed her tone earlier in the day. Just because life seemed cruel did not excuse her. “I owe you an apology, Mr.Welbourne.”
His expression did not change. “You owe me nothing, Mrs.Prior.”
“But I do. I spoke tersely toward you earlier, both in the courtyard and in the great hall. You asked me how I felt about your presence here, and I see that you were only being considerate. I have no excuse other than I fear I’m not myself at the moment.”
“You’ve just lost your husband. Explanations are not needed.”
No doubt he assumed she was grieving.
