Edwina had no desire to make this easy on Lord Hilgrove. He had hurt her deeply with his words, and she needed to know his reasonings behind them. “Why did you say it, then?”
“Because I was being thoughtless,” Lord Hilgrove admitted.
“That you were, but you meant it,” Edwina said firmly. “Did you not?”
The silence hung heavy between them before Lord Hilgrove spoke up again. “Does it matter if I did?” he asked.
“It does to me,” Edwina replied.
“I thought I did, but I was wrong to think so,” Lord Hilgrove confessed. “I cannot measure your grief, just as you cannot measure mine.”
Edwina could hear the sincerity in his voice, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of empathy for him. “I am sorry to hear about your wife and your brother,” she said softly. “That must have been very hard to lose two people so closely together.”
“It was,” Lord Hilgrove replied, his voice thick with emotion. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
Lord Hilgrove’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Not looking at me like I am broken.”
“Who thinks you are broken?” Edwina asked.
His shoulders slumped slightly. “Everyone,” he declared dejectedly, the weight of his struggles evident in his tone.
Edwina cocked her head, studying him intently. “But you aren’t broken,” she reassured him. “You do know that.”
A flicker of disbelief crossed Lord Hilgrove’s features before he let out a slight huff. “You are wrong. I am terribly broken,” he finally admitted, his voice slightly strained.
“Why?”
He gave her a baffled look. “Pardon?”
“Why do you think you are broken?” Edwina pressed.
Lord Hilgrove’s eyes grew guarded and she knew that she had pushed him too far. “Do you accept my apology, my lady?” he asked, his voice taking on a formal tone.
“I do,” Edwina replied without hesitation.
“Then this conversation is over,” Lord Hilgrove declared, turning to leave.
Edwina reached out and touched his sleeve, stilling him. “I have never thought you were broken, my lord,” she said. She wanted him to know that. Quite frankly, sheneededhim to know that.
Lord Hilgrove glanced down at her hand on his sleeve andshe quickly withdrew it, mortified by her brazen action. But she couldn’t bear the thought that he was hurting. She wanted to show him that there was someone who believed in him.
He tipped his head in acknowledgment but not before she saw his burdens still weighing heavily on him. His suffering was evident in every line of his face and every spark of emotion in his eyes.
As Lord Hilgrove’s figure retreated from the library, a deep sadness settled over Edwina. She saw him as a man who believed himself to be broken, a feeling she knew all too well.
Miss Bawden came to stand next to her, her voice carrying a playful lilt. “Do we still like Lord Hilgrove?” she asked.
“We do,” Edwina said, turning to face her friend. “He is hurting, deeply so.”
“As are you,” Miss Bawden noted.
“Yes, but I want to help him.”
Miss Bawden gave her a curious look. “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked. “After all, he does not strike me as the type that would welcome any assistance.”
“No, he does not,” Edwina agreed. “Which means I will have to go about it sneakily.”
