“Do you want to try?” I made sure to keep my tone light and teasing. It wasn’t a reproof and I didn’t wish for him to take it as such—and apparently he’d had more than a few in his life.
His revolted expression made his opinion on my offer exceptionally clear even before his, “Absolutely not.”
Xander was beautiful, and opinionated, and he spoke passionately about those opinions, his hands dancing in front of him in a way that left me breathless. I always knew when he had an opinion about something and what it was—except me.
At the very least, he wasn’t displeased that I was here. Whether he was as pleased to see me as I was him was anyone’s guess. Still, I was glad to find a way to make myself useful—a reason to remain here, with him.
That thought strengthened my resolve and I managed to twist the holer down another half foot. I pulled it out and the earth came with it—as it should. That was a relief.
I tried to remember fences I’d seen in the past and estimated the posts were about five feet apart and eyeballed the distance where another hole ought to go. This was not the right way to go about the work, I was all but certain of it. But the proper way to do it? I hadn’t any better notions.
The process was more easily repeated a second time once I knew what to expect, though the grunt was unavoidable.
“So, your letter…” Xander started, soft and tentative.
Damn. I’d begun to hope it hadn’t arrived yet, that it had been misdirected or waterlogged or burned.
“Didn’t mean to send it,” I replied, not meeting his eyes.
“How do you send a letter without meaning to?”
I couldn’t have kept the sigh inside if I’d tried. “Short version or long version?”
“I’ve nowhere else to be.”
“Right. I’d been… not well—since that night. A lot of drinking, very little bathing.” I felt the shame bubble up and I channeled it into turning the postholer deeper. “I don’t know precisely what Kate knows. But she was worried about me. She sent Kit to drag me out of the house. He decided I could be of use helping him clean up the offices after the fire. I—shouldn’t tell you this. Promise you won’t fire Will and Kit?”
“If I do, it will be because of the state of this house and not because of anything you did. But if I’m honest, he’s the only one who can manage Davina even a little, so I’m stuck with them both.”
“I found the address and might have… borrowed it.”
“Borrowed?”
“I had every intention of bringing it back. Eventually.”
“Of course,” he nodded with fake solemnity.
I braced myself against the postholer where it was buried in the earth. I would need its support. “So I borrowed the address and proceeded to get exceptionally drunk and write you a letter. I’m ashamed to say I only have the vaguest recollection of its contents. In my soused state, I probably did intend to send it, but the next morning, I forgot about it.”
“How did it arrive here then?”
“My maid has been out of town. Kate sent a few over to help. They saw it—addressed and ready to be sent—and very generously took care of that task for me.”
“Ah… So you didn’t mean it?”
There it was, my way out of this. But there was something in his eyes, the set of his mouth—no I couldn’t lie about this. “No, I very much did. I simply didn’t wish for you to read it.”
He was silent for so long that I moved on, measuring the next hole. My skin was itchy and uncomfortable and only some of it was due to sap and sweat.
At the same moment I thrust the tool into the ground, he said, “I’m glad you did.”
“I beg your pardon?” I shook loose curls out of my eyes to meet his.
“It was beautiful. Heartbreaking and wrong, of course. But beautiful.”
“What?”
“It was wrong. I’m not unaffected. It did… hurt me to leave you.”
