Page 36

A sudden longing to extend the evening, to extend their conversation, pushed her words forth. “Mr. Steele?”

He stopped, turning back to face her, the wood still in his hands. “Yes?”

“I…I just wished to thank you. Your words meant a great deal to me.”

He gave a soft smile. “It was my pleasure, ma’am.”

She tried with all her might to think of something else to say, but as a cold wind slipped past her neck and produced a shiver down her spine, he nodded toward the house. “You’d best hurry before you catch a cold.”

He was right, of course. She was beginning to notice that he made a habit of being right. She nodded, delivering a curtsy, then turned toward the house.

Despair threatened to return, but she pushed it aside, recalling Mr. Steele’s words, the sunset, and the way his eyes had searched hers. Just as he’d promised, the world—and her future—did not seem so very bleak, after all.

Edward stood near the beech tree, watching Miss Coventry until she disappeared within the house. Only then did he continue making his way back to the village.

He tapped the piece of wood against his leg and picked up his pace as the first drops of rain fell from the sky.

He was a fool. Not only for staying out so late and getting caught in the rain, but for speaking to Miss Coventry, for sharing things he ought not have, and for drawing closer to his employer’s daughter—that wounded, aching, beautiful woman.

He replaced his jacket as a brisk wind blew against him, splashing raindrops against his cheeks. He’d been unable to stop himself from pursuing her when he’d first seen her seated beside that beech tree. He’d known she was injured, but he’d had no idea how greatly until she spoke, and his heart reached out to her.

Of course, he didn’t regret helping her, but he could’ve done so without sharing that he was destitute. Not only was it humiliating for him to admit, but he was risking drawing closer by connecting with her. And for heaven’s sake, he never should have looked at her pink lips.

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes, willing the image to leave his mind. He had work to do, and he could not be distracted. Especially after receiving Mother’s latest letter.

Pressure weighed down on his shoulders as he recalled the missive he’d received only that morning.

Son, I’ve debated about whether to write to you, but I know you’d wish to know. I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Chapple has called in our debts. Apparently, he’s heard word of the many commissions you’ve received of late. Coupled with you being hired by Lord Ryecombe and now Mr. Coventry, he believes we have more money to spare than we’ve let on. As such, he is requesting the rent in total that we owe him, to be delivered to him within a fortnight.

I take full responsibility for this, as I never should have been spreading word about your successes. Forgive your silly Mother, as proud as she is of you.

The first thing Edward would do upon arriving back at the Blue Boar was write his mother to ease her concerns. She was no doubt making herself sick with worry. Then he’d write to the landlord, explain the situation in full, and pray the man would have a change of heart.

Edward would be paid early next week, but that wouldn’t cover the four months’ worth of debt he’d accumulated. He also would never consider asking Mr. Coventry for an advance.

His only option was to finish the carving early and hope the man would give him the same amount they’d agreed upon. Indeed, that was the very reason he’d remained later at Daffley that evening—in an attempt to accomplish more work so he could return home sooner.

Of course, that meant bidding farewell to Miss Coventry sooner. Not that he took any issue with that. In fact, it would be better to sever his relationship with the woman now. The closer he drew to her, the more likely he would share more about his life, and inevitably, the rumors.

After all, how could he, in good conscience, allow her to befriend him further without her full knowledge of the facts around his family? No lady in her right mind would continue to spend time with a working-class man with a name of such ill-repute—false as it was.

He’d never keep his job at Daffley if word got out.

Curse his loosened tongue.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Marianne stood outside the drawing room, biting her thumbnail. Beatrice had arrived only a few moments ago and now sat alone in the room. It was the perfect opportunity to speak with her, really. Yet, fear bound Marianne’s feet to the floor with invisible chains.

Would Beatrice reject Marianne’s feelings? Set her aside like days-old pudding?

With a firm shake of her head, she rid herself of the thoughts. She needed to do this now, or she never would.

Taking a deep breath, she stretched a cheery smile on her lips and entered the room. “Good evening, sister.”

Beatrice looked up from where she sat near the fire, her eyes watery, the tip of her nose red.

Marianne’s forced smile fell into a frown, all thoughts flying from her mind. “What is the matter?” she asked, moving to her side at once. Whatever she’d planned to say could wait.