“Yet another reason why I should spend some time away from Stowell Cottage.”
Silas gave her a wry smile, his hand drifting towards hers like a magnet as his voice dropped to a whisper, “I would say it is the reason for you to make it your home.”
Miss Delmonte jerked away, shaking her head, and Silas’s hand dropped to his side. “Our acquaintance is of a peculiar nature, Mr. Byrnes. You may have spent the same number of weeks with Mrs. Talley and the rest as you did with me, but we spent hours in each other’s company every day. That is not the same as seeing a lady for a half-hour in her parlor once a week during a morning call.”
Silas sighed. “But—”
“No, Mr. Byrnes,” she said, moving closer to the door without meeting his eyes. “You forget that ours was not an immediate connection, either. You couldn’t even recall speaking to me mere hours after our first meeting.”
Blinking, Silas scoured his thoughts for her meaning. “I recall that day perfectly, Miss Delmonte. You and the children were in the parlor—”
“In Plymouth, sir. On the street.” The lady’s shoulders lowered, and the corners of her lips pulled into a tremulous smile. “I dropped my packages, and you came to my aid, yet I was so unremarkable that you did not recall it when we met again as master and governess scarcely two hours later.”
And to his horror, Silas hardly recalled the moment still, though he trusted her retelling. Before he could think what to say in his defense, Miss Delmonte waved it away, though he knew that slight was not forgotten.
“Beyond that, you must recall that ours was not an immediate friendship. It was unlikely you would’ve sought me out in conversation if you had anyone else on hand worth speaking to, and do not deny it. We were thrown together, and you were lonely. Otherwise, we would’ve remained only master and governess.” Clearing her throat, she met his gaze with a fragile strength. “So, you will forgive me if I refuse to believe your claims that no other lady will do for you. Give it time, and I have no doubt you will find another. Whatever we may feel, it is a byproduct of our situation, but I refuse to allow you to conflate it with love simply because you are tired of courting.”
“That is not it—”
But Miss Delmonte would not listen. She stepped to the door, her hand on the knob. “This is precisely why it is best if I leave, sir. Without your easy solution for a wife hanging about, you might see your prospects clearer.”
Dropping onto the armchair, Silas shook his head, though Miss Delmonte did not face him to see it. He scrubbed at his face and tried to order his thoughts, but his heart and mind were spent.
“Do you need assistance arranging your trip?” he asked.
Miss Delmonte stiffened, casting a look at him from over her shoulder. “I am quite capable of sorting it out, Mr. Byrnes.”
“You are, but that doesn’t mean you needn’t do it alone.”
Her lips trembled before pulling into a sad semblance of a smile. “I am alone.”
Those three words dug into his heart like knives, and Silas rose to his feet, but before he could take a step, Miss Delmonte fled.
There was wisdom in her words. Despite dedicating every free moment in the past month to courting, Silas wagered he’d spent more time with Miss Delmonte in her first week at Stowell Cottage than he had with all the other ladies combined. A few hurried and polite conversations over tea or during a drive had hardly shown him much of their characters.
Was this simply impatience pushing him to rash actions? The ease of inserting Miss Delmonte into his life? Those questions pestered him long after Miss Delmonte disappeared, leaving him alone in the silence of his study.
Chapter 29
Pulling her cloak tighter around her, Judith wished she had brought a proper jacket or even a lap blanket. Of course, she hadn’t anticipated the stagecoach window hanging open the last leg of the journey. If Mrs. Dunstable had left the wretched thing alone, they wouldn’t be in danger of catching a chill, but the woman had insisted on opening and closing it multiple times in the past hour, and now the ridiculous thing was stuck open despite her husband’s attempts to close it. At least the June sun was high in the sky, providing a lovely view, which was unimpeded by the foggy pane of glass.
Judith had traveled the breadth of the countryside, going from ocean to fields to hills, and now, the sight of the moors greeted her. Though plain compared to the rest of the landscapes, there was an elegance to the sweeping swaths of green. The heather was not yet blooming, but her memory supplied the purple cast that covered the knolls. With each passing mile, the scenery became all the more familiar. Judith knew these hills and fields. She’d walked these paths many times before. They were sights that ought to bring a sense of home and family, yet Judith felt no yearning for the horses to quicken their pace.
Her heart remained behind in Titchley.
Heaving a sigh, Judith settled into her seat and reminded herself once again that such thoughts were supremely unhelpful. Stowell Cottage was not her home. The Byrnes were not her family. It was a position. A fleeting thing. But Mr. Byrnes hung in her thoughts, following her every mile. No matter her determination, she could not banish the memory of his words. Judith pressed her lips together, taking in a deep breath, but there was no ridding herself of the warmth that accompanied thoughts of him.
Flexing her fingers, Judith stared at them, recalling the feel of his skin as their hands entwined. Though brief, the warmth lingered, bringing him again and again to her thoughts. And Judith could almost believe he was in earnest. Hope—faint though it was—flickered to life in her heart.
Judith shook her head, pulling her thoughts away from such dangerous ground. Hope was not her friend when it came to romance. It fed fantasies and made her heart break all the more when reality proved to be nothing like her dreams. It was easier not to hope than suffer the pains and loss that came when they were dashed. Better to accept the world for what it was instead of imagining what it could be.
Yes, indeed. Distance was best for both of them. Mr. Byrnes was a stubborn fool, and she would not allow him to surrender his opportunity to marry for true love simply because a passing fancy had turned his head. Without Judith to distract him, Mr. Byrnes would find his bride among the many lovely, accomplished, or well-dowered ladies of his acquaintance who had more to offer him than companionship and the ability to manage his household.
And the weeks would give her time to find a new position so that the future Mrs. Byrnes could hire Judith’s replacement. Then the children would have a fresh start with a new mama and new governess. Surely, Judith could maintain contact with Mr. Hatcher to aid with her investments, but there would be no need to bother Mr. Byrnes with such matters. He would find happiness, and Judith would find security. They would both gain that which they desire.
Thoughts of her future filled her mind, and she focused on those, settling that gentleman firmly in the recesses.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Judith alighted, taking her portmanteau in hand. The thing was decidedly heavy, bumping against her leg as she trudged the last bit of road. This stop was the closest to Eddleston Hall, and though much had changed in her decades of life, Judith still recalled the day when a similar stagecoach had deposited her in this same stretch of moor.
