William wished he could tell her none of it mattered. That these feelings belonged to a different version of him. That he now understood love was more than ownership, or the fulfillment of selfish needs. But such talk was too intimate, and he had not earned that right. Not yet.
What did Miss Lockhart want to know? Only the facts. If, after hearing them, she would still speak with him, he could tell her more.
“Miss Trenton would not end the engagement, even though it brought her much discomfort,” William explained. “Her father held too much sway over her life. So, I thought, if she was to be happy, someone else should help to set her free.”
How ridiculous it all sounded to him now! How had he ever reasoned like such a child? That was not how the world worked. He saw it clearly now.
“Someone who could then claim her for himself,” remarked Miss Lockhart grimly.
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
William writhed uncomfortably within his skin. “Please, Miss Lockhart, I am too ashamed to repeat it. But I will admit it involved deception and betrayal, though, at the time, it felt warranted, even noble. I would readily confess my guilt and regret to both Lady Howell and her husband now if I did not think the subject would cause them fresh pain. Hindsight has taught me a painful lesson… To see myself as others did and likely still do. To understand the extent of my wrongdoing. To carry the shame for the rest of my life.”
William struggled to look at her. He was afraid of what he would see. But when he finally lifted his chin and sought out the reprimand in her face, he found none. In fact, Miss Lockhart,too, had her eyes cast down. She picked at a nodule of fuzzy lint on the rug, her actions mechanical, her thoughts seemingly far away.
He ventured a tentative comment. “I am, no doubt, a disappointment to you, Miss Lockhart. Much more so than I was with the butterfly gift, or the way in which I courted you halfheartedly and then abandoned you. I imagine you see a pattern that worries you, even frightens you. You are probably asking yourself what sort of man you have befriended.”
There was no response. Miss Lockhart remained focused on her square inch of fabric.
“I can only say that, by the time we became real friends that night at the Macraes’ ball, I had already begun my journey toward the sort of man I wish to be. I cannot undo the past. But I do not live in the past. Will you not consider my very real regrets as punishment enough? It would be a far greater penalty to lose your friendship. It was your example that inspired my wish to improve to begin with. Who else has seen me as I am and accepted me despite my errors? You have trusted once before that I have left my loutish attitudes behind. Can you bring yourself to trust me still?”
To William’s horror, the eyes that now lifted to him were brimming with tears.
“I want to trust you, Mr. Cole,” Miss Lockhart said, her lower lip quivering. “It distresses me profoundly that I have any cause to doubt you. You will, agree, however, that my discovery of your past actions must drive me to far greater caution. I do not wish to be made a fool of. If you were to display any such tendencies again…”
“What sort of gentleman could cause these tears and not despise himself?” William asked bitterly. “I assure you, every choice I make henceforth will depend on your approval. Mymotivation is to make you proud of me. But how can I do that if you cast me off?”
Miss Lockhart stared at him through wet eyes. “You impose upon me the role of your conscience. I would not have that responsibility. You should do right for right’s sake, Mr. Cole. If that pleases me, it is an added benefit.”
“You see how you chastise me freely.” William threw his palms forward in exasperation. “No one else does that. My father scolds too much and my sister too little. Butyouspeak to me plainly. And I listen because I respect and admire you. You are not my conscience, Miss Lockhart. You are my inspiration.”
She pressed her lips together. “Mr. Cole, I wish to be nothing but your friend.” She looked away suddenly, as if to hold back new tears at these words. “If you are to take on a more inspiring role, you must find the motivation for it within yourself. Else any stumbling on my part will be an excuse for you to do the same.”
William grew quiet. Miss Lockhart was right, of course. Even now, he floundered hopelessly in scouting the path forward. He did need her. Without her wisdom, he would make little progress. But the will to forge ahead must come from him.
He was about to acknowledge this when, from amid the multitude of ramblers that milled about on the lawns, an exclamation rang out toward them.
“Well, now! Miss Lockhart and Mr. Cole. Old friends together once more.” These words, so innocent on the surface, carried a corrupted meaning, having been uttered by the disagreeable Miss Irene Sangford. As proof of William’s suspicions, she raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. “It is well Miss Penrose is not here. She would surely assume there was more going on between you when your faces are so serious.”
William and Miss Lockhart both attempted to regulate their expressions, to the obvious amusement of Irene Sangford.
“Miss Penrose,” she continued, “is quite the jealous sort, from what I have seen. Sadly, however, her mother would not want her daughter’s envy spent on a military gentleman.” She shrugged. “I suppose Miss Lockhart’s mother does not have the same qualms.”
William looked desperately about him for a savior who might spare them from this woman. There was only one other person he knew nearby, and William grabbed the opportunity to call him over.
“Dr. Westbridge!” called William, finding himself gratefully encouraging his rival’s presence. “Do come and join us. Tell me all about the insects you discovered on your outing to Munro House last week. Was Lord Howell in attendance?”
Whether it was the mention of the viscount, whom William knew Miss Sangford particularly despised, or the imminent and possibly detailed discussion of crawling things, William did not know. Nor did he care. All that mattered was that Miss Sangford abruptly found herself no longer interested in lingering.
“Oh. Ah. I think I heard Mama calling. If you’ll excuse me…”
The most rewarding part of seeing the back of Miss Sangford was the first hint of a smile on Miss Lockhart’s face. William felt the tiniest reconnection between them.
Or was she smiling shyly at the approach of Dr. Westbridge?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cole, Miss Lockhart,” greeted the doctor. “I am pleased to find your new fascination with entomology has not waned, sir. I don’t know what I shall say that Miss Lockhart would not already have shared with you, other than it was a very pleasant afternoon, although the ladies no doubt missed your more charming company.”
