What was Marlow thinking? Pulling me away from a man who clearly wanted my attention, exactly according to the plan we had made with Mrs. Johns. A plan he had fully agreed to! The man teetered as uncertainly as a loose board. I wasn’t sureheeven knew what he wanted. I, unfortunately, did not have the luxury of sitting around and waiting.
One moment, he was conversing with every amiable and beautiful young woman in theton, and the next he held me in an embrace, walked me through his gardens, and picked me flowers in his gazebo. Dinner had felt like home. Cards, even better. I hadn’t wanted the evening to end. I’d gone to bed in raptures, still grinning, excited for what the morrow might bring.
But a new day brought new reminders of just how ridiculous it was to indulge this dream.
I would not trick myself into believing he had any regard for me beyond mere kindness.
Marlow was aduke, first and foremost. Perhaps, I would say a friend. But anything more ... ? Impossible.
His mother had taken great pains to remind me of that truth this morning as we ladies broke our fasts alone.
“Hamletis playing at Drury Lane tomorrow night. Lady Dianalovesthe theater. Would you all mind terribly to go? Perhaps aid Marlow in conversation? I think his boyhood shyness is keeping him from truly opening his heart to her.”
“Does Marlow like the theater?” Maggie had asked, brows knit.
“Men make sacrifices for the women they love. Orwilllove.” Her Grace had smirked.
The jest had been lost on me, or perhaps I simply hadn’t slept well.
But it had made me rethink how open I’d been with him. For clearly, I’d grown attached. Heavens, I’d latched myself onto him in the stable house like a blasted leech.
My cheeks burned with the memory. I’d fabricated our relationship, ourfriendship, all in my head. Just as I’d fabricated things with Sir Ronald. Marlow had set his aim at Lady Diana, and I would do well to remember that as soon as he’d secured her, any hold I had on his heart would be promptly cut loose.
Which was why I had needed Mrs. Johns in the first place.
Lord Reynolds truly seemed amiable. We had many things in common. Most importantly, we were both looking for a new start.
He’d said, “I used to think happiness in the moment wastrue happiness. I would seek it out, crave it, feel empty without it. But now, seeing my family settle and thrive, I wonder if I have been wrong all along. If it is not happiness I desire, but ... peace. Rest. The feeling I get when I am surrounded by my nieces and nephews, my siblings, and my parents, who are still alive and tormenting me, by the way.”
I’d laughed. “Peace. That sounds wonderful. How might I find this peace you speak of?”
“That is the thing, Miss Wood.” He’d leaned in close, his voice a whisper. “You stop searching for it altogether.”
I hadn’t liked that answer, but perhaps there was wisdom in it. Perhaps, if I stopped searching for somethingmore, if I stopped focusing onmyhappiness, I might find it in the process.
Lord Reynolds had given me hope.
It now swelled within my breast, and for the first time in an age, when I thought ahead weeks, months, and even years, I did not feel alone. I saw promise. Perhaps there were others like me who had simply made a misstep, in whom I could find friends. And, one day, when someone younger and less wise, foolish with unrequited adoration, chose a similar path to the one I’d chosen that night so long ago, I could be there to guide her through the aftermath.
Lord Reynolds had learned from his mistakes. He was making changes for the better. And all the while we’d sat together, he’d looked at me so fervently. He’dlistened. And he hadn’t cared about my mistake.
I ought to have charmed him. At the very least, I ought to have fluttered my lashes. Grinned more at his conversation.
But I hadn’twantedto.
He stirred nothing in me. Not even a tint of pink in my cheeks.
I lay back against my pillow, too exhausted to puzzle it all out, and let my worries fade.
I slept for an hour, waking only when Jane opened the door with a letter on a little tray.
“So sorry to wake you, Miss Wood.”
I pushed up to my elbow. “What is it, Jane?”
“A message from home.” Her grin widened. “I did not think you’d want to wait.”
Finally! I sat up and quickly unfolded the letter written in Amelia’s familiar scrawl while Jane tidied the room.
