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Edward nodded warily. “Yes, you did.”

This was beginning to feel like the cricket match all over again. Miss Coventry, behaving strangely, bombarding him with odd questions and facts.

Then she looked at him head on. “Do you think she is beautiful?”

If Edward had been eating another cherry tart, he would have certainly choked to his death that time. He couldn’t very well tell her the truth. Her sister was beautiful.

But he preferred dark hair and green eyes.

He cleared his throat. “She is very lovely, just like all the Coventry women.”

There, that was diplomatic enough. Wait, had he just said…

But it was too late. Miss Coventry’s expression softened at his compliment before a frown tainted her brow. He’d overstepped his bounds, making her uncomfortable. What was the matter with him? He should not be allowing her into his private thoughts. He should not even be entertaining such thoughts.

He was a lowly carpenter with a tainted name. To associate even by conversation with the Coventrys was a risk. If they discovered the truth, Mr. Coventry would certainly fear their own reputations being sullied and would remove Edward from his position in an instant. Where would that leave him and Mother?

“Beatrice is accomplished in every degree of her life, far more than I am,” she said, her eyes on the doorway where she still stood. “She will make someone an excellent wife one day.”

Edward paused. What on earth was this woman getting at?

“You are unattached, are you not, Mr. Steele?”

For reasons he could not explain, he longed to lie, unease taking over residence in his insides. “Yes, that is correct.”

“That is good. Because…” She swallowed. “Because my sister has taken a liking to you.”

Had Edward not been so shocked, he would’ve laughed aloud at such an obvious falsehood. The elder Miss Coventry, like him? Preposterous.

So why would Miss Coventry claim such a thing? Why would she tout her sister’s many talents and…

Oh. Oh, of course. Understanding poured upon him more swiftly than the rain slipping down the library windows. If her sister married, Miss Coventry would be free.

“Miss Coventry…” He paused. The hopelessness in her eyes, the look of sheer despondence, scorched his soul like a burning iron. How could he speak the truth and break her heart further?

He lowered his voice further. “I apologize, Miss Coventry, but I do not believe I would be a good match for your sister.”

She did not miss a beat. “But why?”

“We are of two different worlds. She is a lady, and I am but a humble woodcarver.”

She clasped her hands together, holding them to her stomach, as if she were quelling a storm of her own inside. “Surely you must be aware at this point that we also hail from a lower class. Such matters ought not be a concern, for you have clearly risen above poverty as well.”

He stared at the tools laid out across the table. If only she was aware of how closely he trod the line between poverty and destitution—and how her father was a deciding factor in all of it. Two more weeks. Two more weeks and he’d have enough money to satisfy Mr. Chapple. At least for a month.

He set aside his worrisome thoughts and focused on Miss Coventry. “I am aware that your father came from humble beginnings. I am also pleased you do not believe class matters so greatly. But I’m afraid it does matter for many.”

Guilt encompassed him as her shoulders sank forward. “Yes. Yes, you are right, Mr. Steele. I never should have suggested…” For the first time since he’d known her, a blush graced her cheeks. “I apologize for wasting your time, sir.”

As lovely as the red made her appear, he did not wish to see her embarrassed. “It is more than all right, Miss Coventry, I assure you.”

But she did not seem to hear him, delivering a curtsy before leaving the room without a word.

Edward longed to call out for her, to chase after her, but did he really have a right to? Mr. Coventry had risen above his station. While Edward did not believe Mr. Coventry to be better than himself, Society did.

And the rumor around his name was not something he could rise above—nor could he bring Miss Coventry down because of it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN