“Miss Claywell?” Alec prompted.
Preston sighed. “So long as the topic relates to the girls, I’ve no difficulties, but I have not been able to engage her in conversations of a more personal nature. I try. I plan what I’m going to say, but when the time comes, the words are not there.”
“What are you afraid she will do?” Alec asked with concern.
“Can you believe that a grown man, confident leading the cavalry into battle is reduced to an insecure child when alone in the same room with Miss Claywell?”
“Yes,” Alec answered honestly. “You didn’t speak until you were four. You were terribly shy and your childhood was hell because of it.”
His cousin wasn’t telling Preston something he already didn’t know. He’d lived it.
“It wasn’t just children who didn’t understand your shyness and hesitation, but adults too. I was there. You overcame many obstacles until you were comfortable carrying on a conversation with me. You need to overcome that same obstacle with Miss Claywell.”
Preston looked down into the brandy. “I know.” If it were anyone else, he would not even discuss his fears, but Alec knew him better than anyone. He’d even known him better than his entire family. If Alec hadn’t been with him at Eton, Preston might have never left his room, or he would have returned home.
Preston feared that when it came time to speak his heart, it was likely he’d take too long, and possibly stammer again, then he might have to endure her laughter as well. He shook his head. Miss Claywell would not laugh at him. She hadn’t in London and as foolish as it was to be afraid, especially at his age, the anxiety returned because he wanted to be close to her. To be accepted. That is why he held back with Miss Claywell. He wasn’t ready for her to leave his home and if he spoke too soon, that is what would happen, and she’d be lost to him for good.”
Alec blew out a sigh. “I have faith that you will find your way into Miss Claywell’s heart. You will succeed, Preston,” Alec promised. “However, even though you will likely marry soon, you did promise to travel to London with me this spring so that I can find a bride.
Preston took a drink of the brandy. “Yes, I will attend with you, though I should leave you on your own since you nearly scared my governess away.”
Alec chuckled. “Ah, but you won’t. You’ve already promised.” He stood and made his way toward the entry. “I shall be leaving you to have an enjoyable afternoon and evening with yourgoverness. At least one of us has found happiness.”
“You could find someone to spend enjoyable afternoons with as well, Alec,” Preston said. His cousin had fallen in love last spring, though Preston hadn’t known it until they’d gotten drunk after the funeral. However, because of circumstances that Alec would not elaborate on, he never provided a name. Alec had then gone off to London to secure his future wife, only to return and inform Preston that she’d never be his and was gone for good. Alec provided no details and refused to be pressed on the matter so Preston still didn’t know her name and likely never would. All he knew was that Alec had changed after. He might banter and appear as though all was well, but there was a pain, deep inside, that he’d not discuss.
“My chance is gone,” Alec said with sadness. “All I hope to find in London is someone pleasant enough to reside with and hopefully desire enough to produce an heir. Maybe I’ll seek an American heiress. We could use the funds for the mill and it’s unlikely she’d expect much as I’d be giving her a title her father probably covets.”
“That sounds like a lonely life, Alex,” Preston said quietly.
“It’s not so bad,” he insisted, then left Preston alone.
Althea paced within her small chamber, not certain what to do.
Though neither Melcombe nor Harwich corresponded with Mr. Smith, what if either one was prompted to do so now after he’d been discussed. If so, would they mention her presence at Ambrose Hall? If so, how soon would he or her uncle arrive to collect her?
Did she leave again? Should she find shelter with her mother’s family?
Except her uncle would certainly find her there.
Althea sank down on the bed. She was a coward. She ran because she didn’t want to marry Mr. Smith, but also because she couldn’t bring herself to reject his offer, thus hurting him.
The worst feeling in the world was hurting the feelings of another, except for the person who had been hurt, and Althea went out of her way never to intentionally harm another with words or deeds.
Though in truth, Mr. Smith had already been harmed once her uncle told him what her letter had contained.
Maybe he’d decide not to pursue her, which would be easier for her and him, but it also severed what friendship they may have once held. She would miss those evenings of playing chess. She just hoped it hadn’t caused a fracture in the friendship Mr. Smith shared with her uncle.
Falling back on the bed, Althea stared up at the white ceiling. If she left, where would she go since her mother’s family wasn’t an option?
She had friends who lived throughout England but wasn’t close enough to any of them to simply arrive on their doorstep and seek shelter. Those who were married might have husbands who would object, or worse, alert Uncle Clarence. Those who resided with their parents would react no differently, and possibly fear that Althea would be a poor influence on their daughters.
If only she could think of one friend who resided in an all-female household, Althea would feel much more comfortable traveling to that home, assuming they’d be more sympathetic to her plight but could think of no one.
Even if she did have somewhere else to run, did she truly want to leave? Was it worth the risk to remain?
Willanton was a lovely village, and she adored teaching the girls, and she liked Lord Melcombe.
It wasn’t simply like. It was a need to be near that she didn’t quite understand. If she left now, she might not ever understand or learn if there could be more between them. She’d be left to wonder, and that would never do. She’d been infatuated with Lord Melcombe for months and she shouldn’t squander away this opportunity because of fear.
