“No, not abhorrent. Irritable, perhaps.” She took a quick glance, but his eyes were set straight ahead. The usual Mr. Stanton she knew how to handle, but this quiet, apologetic man was something quite unfamiliar.
“Do you really want to know why I don’t want to marry? And why I never took up an occupation, unlike all these hardworking people in this neighborhood?” He brought his head up, meeting her gaze.
What was happening?
“If you wish to share, I would be open to listening.” Best not to seem too eager and scare the man off.
He considered her for a moment, his jaw pulled to the side. And then he took a slow breath. “My older brother is not well, Mrs. Gillingham.”
She softened her expression. “I am very sorry to hear that.”
With narrowed eyes, he worked his jaw. Almost as if he thought she was judging him and he felt pressure to defend himself. But why on earth would she judge him simply for having a brother who was unwell?
“I am used to it,” he finally said, breaking the quiet. “He has not been well since I was a little boy. He became very ill when I was nine. Whatever it was, it almost took his life, but by the grace of God, it didn’t.” Propping an elbow on his knee, he wiped a hand over his mouth. “He had never been well. Problems with his breathing,” he added, looking at her for a brief moment.“But after the illness, it became much worse. And now, his body cannot keep up with the demands of a firstborn.”
Mr. Stanton paused, but Honora was not sure of what to say, so she simply waited.
“So, for my entire life, I have been instructed in the ways of helping my family. Filling in the roles where my brother cannot. And yet, I am still the second son.” He turned to her fully, his eyes dull. “I had wanted an occupation, Mrs. Gillingham. Just like these hardworking people. But I was told I had a duty to my father and my brother and could not pursue anything. So, no. I do not want to be a man who lies about, not earning his keep. But that is what I have been forced to become. One who complains about having to be on his feet for a simple walk. One who—” He stopped, looking at the ground and swallowing. “Sorry. My tongue has gotten away from me.”
She tilted her head, trying to pair all of this with what she already knew of him.
“You are judging me, aren’t you?” His brown eyes narrowed, looking at her, but there was a vulnerability lingering on his face, something in the way he held his mouth.
“Why would I judge you?”
“Because it’s not a real problem. I am a spoiled man who just likes to complain.”
She tilted her head. “I would not do you the disservice.”
He watched her, his chest rising and falling as the willow’s leaves became swept up in a light breeze around them.
Then he said the most unexpected thing to her.
“I thank you for saying that.”
A gentle smile lifted her lips. “You are very welcome.”
In that moment, it felt like a truce had been declared. For him to speak so plainly and candidly to her meant he was comfortable enough to share such a personal piece ofinformation. And if he felt that comfortable with her, it meant he did notcompletelyhate her. Progress.
“Ah.” His eyes lifted over her shoulder. “We have visitors.”
“Hm?” She leaned nearer, distracted by his wavy brown hair, still slightly unkempt from his sleep. What she wouldn’t give to run her fingers through it.
“Honora.” Him saying her name caused her to jerk, gaining a bit of clarity in her mind. Why did he have to go and be sweet all of a sudden? They had work to do.
Work.
Visitors.
“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder and saw a man and woman walking arm in arm down the path toward them.
Mr. Stanton sighed. “Yes. Exactly.”
“Are you ready to play a role?” she asked, turning back to him.
“A role?” His brow quirked, and whatever moment of vulnerability he had before quickly vanished.
She stood. “Yes. You are Mr. Birks, and I am your lovely wife.”
