“Not far enough.” He tipped her chin up, making her look at him, no room for misunderstanding now. “Eliza, I’ve made more mistakes than I can count. Followed orders I shouldn’t. Fought battles I shouldn’t have. Hurt people I meant to protect. But tonight? You? This? If there’s anything in this cursed world I don’t regret, it’s you.”
Her throat worked, but she said nothing.
“You may feel differently when you’ve slept on it,” she murmured. “And I want you to know I expect nothing from you, Mungo.”
The words made him angry because she didn’t believe herself worthy of happiness. Of a future.
“Shut up and go to sleep. We’ll talk more when we can both think straight.”
“You can’t sleep here,” she said, but the words were slurred.
“I’ll leave soon.”
Mungo had never held a woman like this after lovemaking. He’d always left immediately, but Eliza was different. In fact, he never wanted to leave her bed again. But that thought was for when the sun rose. His eyes felt heavy as he slipped into sleep with his face in her hair and his arms full of Eliza Downing. Mine, he thought.
Mungo woke still holdingher a few hours later. Looking at the clock, he knew the household would be stirring, and neither of them wanted anyone to see him leaving her room.
As he eased his arm out from under her, she mutteredsomething and went back to sleep. After several maneuvers, he managed to get to his feet. He bent to kiss her soft cheek before pulling on his clothes. At the door, he gave her a final look and realized that the woman in that bed had done something no other before her had. She’d broken down the walls he’d built around his heart.
He went downstairs to his room and stripped off his clothes. After washing, he dressed in clean ones and then headed farther downstairs. All was quiet still.
Entering the kitchen, he found Bud.
“I’m glad you found your niece, her maid, and Miss Downing, Mungo. You sit now, and I’ll get you some food.”
“I’d be grateful.”
She poured him tea and lowered a plate of eggs, ham, and bread in front of him a while later. Mungo pounced on it.
“Do you love her, then?”
He choked on the mouthful he’d just eaten and then looked at Bud.
They’d always had an understanding between them. They had each other’s backs and ran this household together.
“Why are you asking me that question?” he said, taking a large mouthful of tea.
“I’ve eyes, don’t I? Plus me and Mr. Dumple have discussed it at length.”
“Have you now.”
“And I like her. She’s good for you. Won’t put up with your ways.”
“I’ve ways, do I, when you’re a bleeding saint, apparently.” But there was no heat behind his words.
The simple truth was that Mungo felt different this morning. Lighter inside.
“Of course I’m a bleeding saint. Everyone knows it.” She smiled at him.
Mungo didn’t comment to that obvious lie, and refused tospeak about Eliza. Instead, he left after thanking her for the meal. He pulled on his outer clothing and then headed outside. He walked slowly to the left until he reached the Douglas house. Standing outside, he studied the exterior. It would need a paint, but it was solid enough. Brick and wood and a small front garden, with another at the rear.
The front door opened, and there stood Mr. Douglas. “Morning, Mungo. I’ve the tea on. Come along, or Mrs. Douglas will start scolding. It’s too chilly to leave this open for too long.”
He walked up to the front door and entered the house. When he left thirty minutes later, he was the new owner.
As he stepped out onto the road again, a group of five were striding past, all residents, and in the lead was Mavis.
“Hello, Mungo.”
