I did owe Mr. Winston for saving me. And for the hit. And I did not have to tell himeverything.
“What would I do?” I mused, tilting my head back. “Well, I’d still be here. I have never loved any place more than I love our estate. And I’d prepare for my first Season.”
“So you dowantto marry.”
“Yes, obviously. I want a family of my own.”
“Here? In Ashford?” He looked back at Ben in a show of nonchalance, but I had a feeling he cared more about my answer than he let on.
Butwhydid he care? “I loved my childhood, so, yes, if I had the choice, I’d place myself nearby, or somewhere similar. With a husband as committed as my father but as playful as Ben. Someone who loves me, who makes me feel as comfortable as I do when I’m alone.”
“Without pretense,” Mr. Winston added.
“Exactly.” I nodded. “My time could be my own. Take calls as often or as little as I chose. Help our village or community grow and thrive. That sort of thing.”
“You’d need a pond as well.” He nodded his head, almost businesslike.
I pressed a finger to the corner of my mouth. “And a changing room like they have in Brighton.”
He grinned. “Very well. Any pets?”
My lips twitched into a smile. “A few hounds for my husband. Cats for the field mice. And horses, obviously.”
“A room for painting?”
I met his gaze, and my smile slowly faded. How did he know that I loved to paint?
“The list,” he mumbled. Were his cheeks turning pink? “Two of your numbers were about painting. I assumed—”
“Yes,” I cut him off. “I’d love a room for painting.”
His gaze flicked back to mine, almost shy, and he raked a hand through his hair. “Well, those are brilliant dreams.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. “Your turn. Why are you really here?”
He scratched his neck, and for a moment, I wondered if he’d respond.
“My funds ran out. ‘No allowance,’” he quoted my words back to me. “And my choice is to either seek work that I am not qualified for or go home.”
“And why will you not go home?”
Lingering between us was the memory of my wordscast outandburden on your family.He turned his gaze toward Ben. “Newbury, extend your arm fully and follow through.”
Ben wiped his brow with his arm, panting. “Come and be a proper teacher, then. Ros, thank you for the exciting morning. A fitting last adventure indeed.”
Mr. Winston nodded and looked back to me. He cleared his throat. “I meant it when I said you’ve a natural talent. If you ever wish to practice ...”
“No, of course not.” I furrowed my brow, rearing back dramatically. He gave me a—disappointed?—half smile and a bow, before jogging over to Ben.
“I hope these memories last you a lifetime, Ben,” I called as I picked up my journal and gloves from their spot in the grass.
He laughed, and I heard thepat-pat-boomfrom behind me. Just before I twisted around the trees, I shot one last glance over my shoulder.
Mr. Winston had tied on my mufflers—hismufflers. He faced Ben and started to round on him, using that same footwork he’d shown us earlier.
I turned back toward the house, shaking my head. How could one man be two people? A gentleman who cared about hopes and dreams and love as well as a brooding boxer who only sought a little fun.
Perhaps he wasn’t two people. Perhaps one man was who he wanted to be, and one was who he truly was.
