Page 24 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“Good day, Lady Thornhaven.”

She walked away without looking back.

He did not move until her footsteps faded.

*

Footsteps sounded behind her, the household shifting its rhythm as the rain settled into a steady fall. Eliza drew a slow breath and prepared to return to the morning’s work.

Outside, the rain strengthened.

Eliza crossed the hall and took the side door into the garden, pulling her cloak closer as the damp air met her skin. The scent of wet earth rose immediately, dark and clean. The gravel had deepened in color, the paths shining faintly beneath the gray sky.

Thomas was near the tool shed, securing its door against the weather. His movements were unhurried, practiced. Rain slicked his hair, darkened the shoulders of his coat.

She watched him for a moment, the way one did when there was no need to announce oneself.

When he turned and saw her, his expression shifted. Not surprise. Awareness. As if he had known she might come.

“You’ll catch cold,” he said, though his tone held no urgency.

“I won’t,” she replied. “I wanted the air.”

He nodded, accepting that as reason enough.

The rain gathered along the edge of the shed roof and spilled in a steady line, the sound deepening the silence between them. Eliza felt the chill settle through her gloves, into her fingers.

“You should be inside,” Thomas said again, more quietly this time.

“I will be,” she said. “In a moment.”

He studied her then, his gaze more deliberate than before. Not intrusive. Simply attentive.

“They’ve amended the agreements,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You knew.”

“I heard the clerk speaking to the steward,” he replied. “The tone was different.”

She smiled faintly. “You notice everything.”

He shrugged. “Only what matters.”

Once, she might have mistaken that restraint for reluctance or indifference. Now she understood it differently. Thomas had spent years ensuring his usefulness never became mistaken for ambition.

The rain soaked the earth beneath their feet, the ground softening. Eliza adjusted her stance, the hem of her skirt brushing the damp gravel. Thomas noticed at once.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing toward the shelter of the shed.

She hesitated, not because she objected, but because the movement would close the distance between them.

Then she stepped beneath the overhang.

The space was narrow. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him beside her, the solid presence of his shoulder just within reach. The scent of rain and clean wool filled her senses.

Neither of them spoke.