“I have to own to disliking Mr. Pettigrew. He was not the hero I would have chosen for Miss Smythe, especially when she was about to have her fingers cut off. Indeed, he stood to one side saying only that she would need them to complete a full life.”
“Heartless,” he said, and Milly heard the laughter in his voice. “He should have offered to exchange places, clearly. After all, he himself was established. Especially with the death of his father, his future was assured. What need had he for fingers?”
Milly snorted at the ridiculousness of the conversation. She remembered that about him also. When Joseph had lowered his noble guard, she had enjoyed his humor.
“He did not have the makings of a good hero, my lord, that is my point.”
“What makes a good hero?” Milly could hear the genuine interest in his voice.
Lord, she had thought of just that for days and weeks since her world had been turned on its head.
“Faith,” she said softly. “Faith in the person he loves, even when it seems only he believes her. Against all odds he should stand by her, even if she makes it hard to do so.”
“But what if she lies? What if she makes his loving her impossible? No. I fear you ask too much of us, Milly.”
Milly’s fingers shook as they stroked Daisy’s little head. His words had held curiosity, not derision. He did not speak of what she had done; had he forgotten her now? Was she a distant memory? Had her lies destroyed everything he had felt for her?
This is what you wanted, Milly.
“True love will always be tested, my lord, but a hero should be in no doubt that his heroine will always be true to him. There can be no quarter given in this, I believe.”
She wondered why she was persisting in this, when she had tested him to a point where he could no longer stand by her, or indeed fight for what they once had.
Milly allowed herself to lean back into him as exhaustion slowly took hold. Now she was no longer walking, she was suddenly bone-achingly weary. Her expectations had been to catch a ride to the stage in Mr. Pestle’s cart in the morning. However, his unwanted attentions had forced her to flee.
“You will have to work hard to convince me to believe in such a love, Milly. But what of you? Have you forged this belief that a hero must have faith in his love from experience?”
“Certainly not.”
Had she destroyed his faith in love? The thought made her feel ill.
His laugh was a deep rumble.
“Do not laugh at me, my lord. You asked me the question, and I told you the answer. If it is not to your liking, that is your problem not mine.”
Milly again fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him. The beautiful yet aloof Viscount Haddon, now the Earl of Ellsworth. When had his father died? The event would have caused him grave pain, as he had loved his father deeply.
Tall, handsome, with intelligent brown eyes, Joseph had often made women sigh. His face was a thing of beauty, or so Miss Mary Littlewood had once stated. Prominent cheekbones, a long, elegant nose; Milly remembered the first time she had seen him. The breath had caught in her throat, and her stomach had clenched. She had danced with him several times, and remembered feeling awkward. She in her first season, bumbling her way through society, and he appearing cool and calm, understanding his place in the world and accepting the shoes he walked in. And then he had taken an interest in her, and she had scarcely believed it possible. Then they had fallen in love. The future had shone bright and happy for them for a brief moment, and then it had been ripped away.
“I was not laughing at you, Milly, I was laughing at your vehement denial, which told me that you have indeed been thwarted in love.”
“I have never loved,” she lied.
“What, no one?”
“Family, of course, but no one else.” Milly was relieved when he did not question her further about family. Lying had been something she’d had to do often after leaving London, but she loathed it, and tried where possible to avoid it now.
“I think a hero should be able to solve any problem that his beloved presents him with.”
“That’s very broad, don’t you think, my lord? I mean, that is surely setting oneself up to fail, as there can be many problems that he couldn’t fix.”
“But isn’t that the point.” He leaned forward as he spoke and his breath brushed her ear, making her shiver. “A hero should be able to unknot a shoe ribbon and hold together severed flesh for his beloved should it be required. Of course, one would hope for his sake that the latter never occurs.”
Her laugh changed to a yawn.
“Have you been walking long, Milly?”
“A while,” she conceded. In fact, it had been closer to three hours than two, and her feet had begun to ache from the cold.
