Jonathan nodded. “I did.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t say another word. Instead, he slid his water tankard closer to me. “Take mine.”
I shook my head fast, embarrassed that he had noticed my impulse to gulp down more. There were other questions I still wanted to ask. I rehearsed the words in my mind. “Does your mother live with you…along with your sister, Margaret?”
His features flashed with surprise—perhaps because I had remembered her name. Unfortunately, I remembered all the details I had ever learned about Jonathan. He and everything associated with him stuck in my head like ink, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wash it out.
He looked down at the table, his brows lowering. That crease appeared between them. “No.”
“You live alone?”
He paused for a long moment. “Well, I certainly won’t now. You will be there.” He shifted his spoon in the empty bowl for no apparent reason.
I studied his face, searching for clues, but found nothing. It would have been wise to pause my list of questions there, but my curiosity was only growing stronger by his strange reactions. His answers were far too brief for my liking, but at least he was answering. Perhaps he would continue. “Your sisters also mentioned that you had received an inheritance from your uncle,” I said. “Was that quite unexpected? Do you have an intended use for it?” The words spilled out faster than I had intended.
Jonathan’s demeanor shifted, his frown deepening. His arms seemed to tighten over his chest. “Yes, the twenty thousand.” His jaw tensed. “I know you and Miss Lyons were made aware of that.”
My brow furrowed.Well, that didn’t answer any of my questions.“We were both made aware, but Charlotte is the one who took such a great interest in it.”
He laughed under his breath. “You cannot claim that you weren’t equally interested.”
I exhaled sharply, searching for any words of denial that he might believe. My pride kept a firm grip on my tongue. How could I tell him that Ihadbeen interested in him, but for a completely different reason? I could never confess to those feelings. I would take them to my grave. I couldn’t imagine the mortification I would feel if Jonathan Croft realized that he had once been the object of my daydreams. Even now, with him staring across the table at me with his scowl, I worried he could read my mind.
I had been silent for too long. There was nothing I could say to convince him that I hadn’t been competing for his attention. I had, and he knew it.
Awkwardness hung between us for several seconds—so heavy that my bones seemed to creak under the weight of it.
I wanted to sink into my chair.
Like an angel from the heavens, Eliza stepped through the front doors of the inn, providing the perfect distraction. Her dark hair was matted against her neck, her bonnet askew. At the sight of her, I wondered how terrible I must have looked after such a long day of travel, rain, and mud. I didn’t even want to imagine.
After speaking with the innkeeper, Eliza bustled toward me with a curtsy. ‘I’m told yer room is prepared, ma’am.”
I jolted with surprise at her change of address. I was not amissany longer.
And the room was not only mine. It wasours.
My gaze slid in Jonathan’s direction. I wasn’t certain how to proceed, but his expression was still marked with a scowl. Bringing up the subject of his fortune had been a mistake…one that I would be wise not to repeat.
He waited for me to stand before leading the way toward the stairs at the back of the parlor. The passage was narrow and smelled of mildew, each step creaking under my mud-crusted boots. Jonathan stopped at a door at the end of the corridor, fumbling with the key until the knob turned.
He stepped inside first. The room was small—scarcely large enough for the four-poster bed at the center. A rug lay in front of the hearth, where a small fire already burned, struggling against the damp air that seeped through the windowpanes.
I lingered in the doorway, my palms sweating. Besides the bed—the one and only bed—there was a washstand with acracked porcelain basin, and a single chair near the fire. A pitcher of water had been set out as well.
If given the opportunity, I would surely gulp it all down by the end of the night.
I forced myself to move farther into the room, overly aware of Jonathan’s rigid stance by the hearth. Eliza trailed behind me, eager to assist with my usual evening preparations. But how could I wear my nightdress, or take my hair down, with Jonathan sharing these small quarters?
He is your husband,I reminded myself.
But that didn’t help.
Suddenly, he spoke in a curt voice. “You shall have the bed. I will make do in the chair.”
I scoffed, shaking my head fast. “That is unnecessary. You are taller—you should take the bed, and I shall have the chair.”
“No. You shall have the bed.”
