“No one has called or inquired after you?”
“After we attended church, two ladies came to welcome us to the village. Flibbertigibbets, Jane calls them. I served them tea and cake, but told them very little about myself, although their curiosity was palpable.”
“Church? Was that wise?”
“It would have seemed odd if we hadn’t attended, and drawn more attention to us.”
He sat down on the sofa. “I suppose so. But you must remain vigilant, Maddie. Your uncle visited me. He is furious with you, and Henry. I don’t like to guess what he is capable of should he get his hands on either of you.”
“Is Henry safe?” Maddie asked, alarmed.
“He is while he remains in my employment.”
“My uncle won’t find me here.”
“I’m sure he has his men scouring the countryside for you.” His blue eyes searched hers. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”
Because she wanted him, it only made things worse. She would be open to hurt, which would be constant throughout her life. If she could remain indifferent to Hart, she might manage an arranged marriage. But becoming the wife of a rake would not suit her. She sighed and shook her head. “I see no need to rush.” She must keep a cool head and take all the time allotted to her, to be sure it was wise. “There remains a few weeks until my birthday.” Was that disappointment she saw in his eyes, or something else? Affection? She dared not hope for love. She wished he would do or say something to show her he wanted her. As badly as she wanted him? Dreams of them together filled every night and embarrassed her. Where such passion came from, she did not know. When he wasn’t here, she could imagine herself living here, with the cottage at its best, pottering about the gardens, and reading by candlelight, becoming a spinster. But when he was here before her, so big and manly that his very presence pulled her toward him, she knew herself to be in love with him. It was useless to fool herself. She pressed her lips lest she be tempted to ignore the warning voice in her head and accept him.
Apart from a sigh, which might be impatience, he did not reveal his feelings, leaving her wishing for something more. “Of course, you must be sure. It’s a big step to take.”
“It is, Hart,” Maddie said, hoping the disappointment in her voice didn’t give her away. About to say more, edging closer to a statement of her true feelings, she was glad when Jane entered the room and dropped into her usual curtsey, which Hart hadn’t been able to cure her of. “Milord.”
“Do you enjoy your stay here, Jane? You are more accustomed to working in big houses with many staff.”
“That is true, milord. But this is closer to the way I lived as a child. I am quite content here.” She turned to address Maddie. “I’ve set the table in the kitchen, milady, and the pie is hot.”
“Please, share a meal with us, Hart.” Maddie tried to keep the proud note from her voice. How silly to give a pie so much importance. Her father would scold her. He would not have wished what he considered dreary domesticity upon her. Poor Papa, he had promised her the world.
After Hart took a chair at the small table, Maddie placed the pie in the center.
“That smells delicious,” he said. “Mrs. Fletcher’s?”
“No. I made it.” Maddie fought the silly grin on her face.
“You are a lady with many gifts.” Hart served himself some of the salad from a bowl. “And celery from your garden?”
“You are teasing.” She laughed. “It is shop bought. We have not been here long enough to grow celery.”
“But this pie,” he said, watching as she cut him a hearty slice and ladled it onto his plate. “Looks delicious.”
“You’d best reserve your praise until you taste it.”
Once Hart and Jane were served, Maddie sat down. Her stomach churned too much to enjoy it herself. She hoped the golden pastry would be as crisp and tasty as it looked. Her first mouthful reassured her.
“This is the finest beef and onion pie I’ve eaten.” Hart sounded sincere, but it didn’t fool her. The pie was acceptable as plain fare, but hardly the sort of meal usually served to him. She smiled. “That is generous of you, Hart.”
“I mean it,” he said. “May I have another piece?”
“Certainly. Jane? Do you care for more?”
“No, thank you, milady.”
As Maddie served him, she felt more pleasure than she’d experienced in the year since her parents’ accident changed her life. She marveled it took something so simple to make it so. But would she feel the same if Hart wasn’t here?
Chapter Eleven
After luncheon, Hartsuggested he and Maddie go for a ride over the fields, which flowed away in an endless green swathe from the bottom of the garden.
