Page 48 of Reforming Lord Neil

“Ah, so you will always think of me as an inept laborer who falls from trees and cleans out chicken houses.” He tipped his head back, sighing dramatically. “I suppose that is not an intimidating or frightful person to have about.”

Teresa laughed unexpectedly, then hastily covered her mouth. She had no wish to wake her mother or daughter with their conversation. That might cause questions later. “You are a good man, Neil. That is all that matters.”

His eyes focused on hers and he leaned closer, nearly to her window. “Is that all that matters, Teresa?”

She swallowed back the emotion again. “Of course. A person’s actions are more important than their birthright.”

“That is not what I meant.” He somehow came closer.

If she leaned forward, just a touch, she could kiss him. And oh, how she wanted to. But her heart already ached, knowing she must lose him eventually. Teresa withdrew, clutching the ribbon between her fingers. “I had better turn in. I am afraid I am not fully recovered yet, and I need my rest.”

He considered her a moment, not withdrawing. “What keeps you from me, Teresa?” Her name was a purr, a gentle touch upon her heart.

Her lips parted in her surprise, but she hastily closed her mouth. This was the moment she should close the window, blow out the lamp, and go to sleep. Or tell him to leave. Perhaps feign offence.

Yet his expression was open and curious. Not hurt or sly. Neil’s honesty was plainly written upon his face. How could he not know, not understand, all that separated them?

“Neil.” She savored his name a moment before she continued, hearing the disappointment in her voice and not bothering to hide it. “I am an honorable woman. I cannot pretend, not even for a moment, that more than friendship could ever grow between us. I am a poor widow, reduced to circumstances so beneath my station that none who knew me in the past would admit to knowing me now. You are a lord, the son of a powerful nobleman. The time you have had here, with us, has been a blessing. But it has also been something of a dream.”

Neil averted his eyes, his expression closing. She saw the denial of her words in the way he tightened his jaw, and heard it as he spoke. “A dream? To work alongside you in your fields, to clean up after animals? That is not a dream. It is more real, of more substance, than any other part of my life. I feel as though I have been an actor on a stage until now. I have played my part to the best of my ability. I have been the nobleman’s son, the arrogant lord, as shallow in my feelings as in my relationships.”

“This has been the act, Neil,” she told him firmly. “You are not a farmer. You could not live this way forever.”

“Perhaps I could.” He faced her again, nothing wavering in the strength of his gaze. “If I am with you.”

It was the closest he had come to a declaration, and Teresa wondered if he had ever laid himself so bare before another in his life. She saw it all. His determination, of course. His earnestness. But she saw something else that made her heart hurt for him, something in his eyes that revealed how easily she might damage him should she turn him away. Yet it would be the right thing to do, to give pain where he had looked for hope.

Teresa put her hand to her forehead. “Neil. I am tired, and overwhelmed, and—and ill. I know you mean the things you say, but I cannot let myself believe them. I have nothing to offer. If you tried to stay here, your family would not allow it. Please. I am asking you to speak no more of this. It will only hurt us both.”

He withdrew, standing straight upon the ladder again. “If that is truly what you wish,” he murmured, “I will not say anything more. For now.”

It would be easy to let him in, not just into her heart but into her home. Her loneliness, her longing to be held and cared for, had not abated. But it would hurt all the worse when he left, because she knew she could not stop herself from falling in love with him.

But her life was not his. He would leave, and return to the world of ballrooms and perfumed ladies. Wealth and prestige were his birthright.

“Good night, Neil.”

“Good night, Teresa.” He went down the ladder, and she watched him stand at the bottom and lift it free of the roof. She leaned out and took hold of the window latch, pulling it closed.

Going to her lamp on the table, she put the ribbon upon its surface. She glanced at the slim volume of sonnets. “‘Thy love is better than high birth to me.’” Teresa blew out her lamp and crawled into bed.

Though the poem was beautiful, the sentiments perhaps real enough, there was nothing to be done about her situation. Nothing to be done about her growing love for Neil Duncan.

Chapter Twenty

Another week passed, and Neil received a letter from Lady Fox. The woman had formerly been one Miss Millicent Wedgewood, a guest in his family’s home. It was while visiting with them earlier that summer that she had met and fallen in love with Sir Isaac Fox, a baronet. They had wed recently. Lady Fox had received his letter, and promised as Lady Inglewood had to look into the matter with her husband’s assistance. She also assured him that he was welcome, whenever he wished, in her home.

Fox Hall, as the baronet’s home had recently been renamed, sat far too near his father’s country estate for Neil to even consider staying there. But the offer was kind, as was the lady who made it.

Neil kept his hands busy, and his mind with them, and avoided more than brief conversations with Teresa. She was the same as ever, once recovered from her brief illness. No one watching the two of them could possibly suspect how much his arms had begun to ache for want of holding her, nor how his heart leaped for joy every time she came within sight. He was a lovesick fool, of the very worst sort, and could do nothing about it.

Not once since that single Season when he had tried to open his heart to another had Neil felt such things. And those feelings in his youth were nothing compared to the transformation his heart underwent now. At five and thirty, he had seen enough of life’s pain, misery, and foolishness to give him a greater depth for more tender feelings.

Teresa’s perspective of their situation, though accurate, did not put an end to his feelings.

Caroline followed him about when her own chores were complete, speaking in French with more ease than before. Despite wearing a bonnet when the sun was out, she had more freckles across her cheeks than when he had met her. The little girl was endearing, speaking to him of her thoughts with innocence and honesty. When she discovered he had been to the menagerie in London, the Tower animals were a favorite subject for days.

They were in the barn, Neil in Abigail’s stall and Caroline sitting on one of the stall walls, discussing the exotic animals kept by the Crown.