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“Those accusations, despite having been proven false, were spread throughout the community. One by one, our friends and customers, gentlemen who had been working with us for years, no longer commissioned our work, and our business fell apart.”

Her eyebrows drew close together, pain reflected in her eyes. “And your father died shortly after that?”

“He died because of that.”

Edward would never forget how Father had stopped eating and sleeping due to his sorrow, how the weariness in his eyes had increased daily until no light was left within him.

“How did you manage to move past it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked away the image. “I do not know if I have fully. But each day, I must remind myself to forgive and move on. For if I do not, bitterness and anger will consume me until there is no longer light within me. I know that is not what Father would have wanted.”

She nodded, compassion veritably spilling forth from her eyes. “Wise words to live by,” she whispered. “Ones I would do well to remember, too.”

Then her gaze dropped as she looked past his shoulder, and her eyes rounded. She launched her hand forward and clutched his arm. “I know her.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Marianne clutched Mr. Steele’s arm harder, repeating her words and confirming her worst fears.

“I know her!” she whispered again.

Instinctively, she stepped closer to Mr. Steele, hoping to shield herself from the woman approaching.

“From Ashwick?” he asked.

“Yes, she is one of my mother’s closest friends.” The woman, Mrs. Perkins, drew closer, her voice getting louder and louder. What was she doing in Wells? Would she be at the assembly that night? Marianne’s heart sunk lower and lower. “I need to go back to the inn,” she whispered. “I must hide!”

She turned around, about to dart farther out onto the street to make for the inn, but Mr. Steele wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back.

“There isn’t time,” he said.

Swiftly, he led her deeper into the alleyway, turning his body toward her so his back faced the street. He pulled her near him, resting his hands on her arms just below her shoulders. In response, she tucked in her elbows, holding her fisted hands against his chest to hide behind his large frame.

If the woman saw them, the position they were in would be more than compromising—it would be detrimental.

Mrs. Perkins’s voice sounded right at the opening of the alleyway, and Marianne’s legs turned to jelly. The woman’s words were unintelligible, but her voice was unmistakable.

Only, it was not Mrs. Perkins’s.

Marianne paused. Carefully, she peered around Mr. Steele’s shoulder quick enough to see the woman walking by. Sure enough, it was another woman entirely.

Marianne’s shoulders fell with relief. Her eyes must have tricked her, convinced her of her greatest fear.

She leaned back to inform Mr. Steele of her blunder, but when she looked up at him, she became acutely aware of just how closely she stood before him. Her hands were still against his chest, his fingers around her arms.

He watched her, his brow creasing as he frowned. Was he upset with her for almost having been discovered? For bringing them both to Wells and risking everything?

“Is she gone?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She nodded, her words wavering. “Forgive me. It was not her after all. I thought…”

She couldn’t finish her words, her eyes taken with his mouth as his lips parted. A moment passed by in silence, their proximity pushing her heart to race harder and harder until finally, his hands dropped, and he took a step back.

“You are certain it wasn’t anyone you recognized?”

She nodded, unable to say a word.

“Thank heavens,” he said, looking anything but relieved as he averted his gaze. What had troubled him so greatly to cause that frown of his to return? “We had better return to the inn. You must have time to make ready for the assembly.”