“Lord Ethan doesn’t want me to stay,” she said categorically.
“You’re wrong, Mrs. Wood. He does want you to stay. Needs you to, in fact.”
“He said this himself?”
She didn’t know why she was challenging the earl. Why she was looking a gift horse in the mouth when she ought to be relieved and grateful that the job might still be hers. Yet the anvil of despair suddenly flamed red-hot in her belly, filling her with unspeakable…anger.
At herself. At Lord Ethan. At the unfairness of it all.
“Not in so many words. But I know my brother, and I know he is sorry for…for overreacting. And for frightening you.”
She hated that her fear had been so obvious.
“He wasn’t always like this,” Manderly said earnestly. “While I know your intention was not to provoke, hearing you play that piano stirred up memories for him. Unhappy ones.”
Her resentment withered in the heat of shame. While Lord Ethan’s reaction had been nasty, she had partly brought it upon herself. Shehaddone all the things he’d accused of her doing, violating his trust and his property. And she’d done it without fully considering the consequences, not just for herself…but for him. She hadn’t stopped to think that he might have a reason for keeping the instrument hidden away and that her actions might cause him pain.
He owed her an apology. But maybe she owed him one too.
Drat, drat, and blooming drat. Maybe I should go. Just leave this mess behind.
But how well was that philosophy working for her? While she’d made too many mistakes in life, she strived to be accountable—to herself and, where possible, to the party she’d wronged. For her, it was a point of pride…and what made her different from her mother.
“I will leave you to think things over,” the earl said. “However, I can assure you that my brother expects and hopes that you’ll accompany him to the mop fair tomorrow morning.”
He was nearly at the door when she spoke.
“You left something behind, my lord.” She caught up to him, holding out the envelope. “I do not require an incentive to make my decision.”
Smiling slowly, the earl tucked the envelope back into his pocket. “I thought that might be the case.”
To her shock, he took her hand and kissed it respectfully before exiting.
ChapterTen
The mop fair was a bustling event, and as Ethan’s carriage pulled into the village square, he saw it was teeming with men and women looking for work. Those hoping to be hired wore emblems to show off their trades. Farmhands had straw tucked in their buttonholes, footmen dressed in old livery, and maids wore aprons over their frocks. Those who didn’t have a specific skill carried mops as a sign that they were jacks-of-all-trades. The pool of available help boded well for Ethan’s purpose, yet any optimism he felt was dampened by another emotion.
Guilt.
He slid a look at Mrs. Wood, who sat on the opposite bench, as far from him as possible. The morning light touched her mouse-brown hair, giving the illusion of fiery highlights. Her cheeks were pale, and her spectacles didn’t hide the tired smudges under her eyes.
His chest tightened. He hadn’t slept well either. After his temper ebbed, the undertow of remorse and self-revulsion had pulled him into their dark depths. He’d resisted the melancholy, however; he had to make things right with Mrs. Wood first. He knew he ought to apologize, but he couldn’t think of a way to do so without exposing too much.
Without revealing what a bloody damaged bastard he was.
Mrs. Wood’s gaze suddenly collided with his, and the hurt in her eyes sliced into his soul. He remembered her fear yesterday when he ripped up the copy of his sonata. The way she’d flinched, as if she thought he might hit her, made him suck in a breath.
You frightened her, you bounder. Caused her pain. Fix it.
The tension in the carriage grew suffocating. He had to say something.
“Thank you,” he said.
Her gaze cut to his. “For what?”
For not leaving. For making my life better. For putting up with me.
“Er, for assisting with the hiring today.”
