“I should like to have a look,” Evie mused. “At the trees, I mean. I have some experience with botanical matters, and perhaps fresh eyes might reveal a new clue regarding the crop decline. Would your brother mind a visit?”
“Quite the opposite. There’s nothing Ned enjoys more than waxing on about his orchard.” Loretta patted her hand. “It’s kind of you to take an interest.”
“Think nothing of it.” For Evie, praise had always felt like an ill-fitting coat. “I’m unlikely to discover anything new. And I am in your debt for the herbs?—”
“It’s the thought that counts. And friendship isn’t tit for tat, dove.”
Loretta’s declaration was like her jam: simple and sweet.
“Now I hope you won’t find this impertinent.” She studied Evie with a kind yet astute gaze. “You look like you could use some rest—all that fretting over your husband, no doubt.”
You have no idea. While Evie knew that her friend was referring to James’s recent illness, she was now fretting for an entirely different reason. Her reaction must have shown for Loretta frowned.
“His lordship is fully recuperated?”
“Oh, he’s fit as a fiddle.” Unable to help herself, Evie blurted, “In fact, his renewed vigor has, um, not been entirely overlooked by others.”
She couldn’t say more and was surprised she’d said as much as she did.
“I understand.” Loretta had a knowing gleam in her eyes. “My Liam, he draws glances aplenty. And quite a few females have come to shop for more than turnips, if you take my meaning.”
Relief at being understood percolated through Evie.
She released a breath. “What did you do about it?”
“What any self-respecting wife would do.” Loretta’s chin angled up. “I chased them off with a broom.”
Picturing herself waving a broom at the glamorous Lady Vernon, Evie had to laugh.
“That certainly would get the point across.”
“If it didn’t, the toe of my shoe against their backside certainly did.”
Evie’s chuckle faded when she saw her friend wasn’t jesting.
“A woman has as much pride as a man,” Loretta said stoutly. “If some chap made eyes at me, Liam would be after him with more than a broom. If it’s sauce for the goose, why not for the gander?”
Evie couldn’t argue with that logic.
“If a fox were to wander into your henhouse, my lady, would you look away and pretend it wasn’t there?”
“Um, no. I suppose not.”
“There is no supposing about it. Of course you wouldn’t. You would chase it off, protect what’s yours. The same applies to marriage. It does nobody any good to stay silent and hide their feelings—not when it comes to the things that matter.”
On the way back to the manor, Evie decided to take a detour through the woods. The visit with Loretta had put her in a contemplative mood, and the forest, padded with leaves and moss, enlivened by birdsong and the burbling stream, was the perfect place to lose herself in thought. Her friend had presented a perspective that she hadn’t considered before. She did have her pride, just as James had his. If he felt some fellow was encroaching on his territory, he certainly would not stay silent.
Then why should I?
The question opened corridors of the past from which she usually ran. Yet this time, in the safety of the forest, she let herself venture through the dark halls, seeing all the places and ways she’d hidden herself from the terror of her stepfather’s power. Maybe, she realized with a jolt, she’d never stopped hiding…even in her marriage.
The awareness tingled through her that perhaps it was time to do something different. Was there a way to test the waters…to see what part, if any, of her past James might be able to accept? Furthermore, it had been more than a fortnight since she’d heard from the blackmailer. It was possible that he was satisfied with the payment she’d made. Possible that he might leave her alone. Without that menace looming over her head, it might be easier to reveal some of her secrets to James. He was an understanding and tolerant husband, after all.
Stop trying to pull the wool over your own eyes. It is one thing for James to tolerate your quirks and another for him to accept that you killed a man.
A rumble sounded, jolting her from her thoughts. Looking around, she realized that she’d wandered off the path and deep into the forest where the terrain had turned hilly. Water rushed downstream, churning as it hit the rocks. As thunder sounded again and agitated birds shot into the swirling sky, she hastily searched for shelter. She noticed something up ahead…a pale arch in the hillside, visible behind some overgrown brush.
Is there a hollow in the rock behind those shrubs? Perhaps I can wait out the storm there.
