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He crossed the gravel drive, leaving the house behind and blowing out another sigh. How was he to continue carving for the next two months, knowing Miss Coventry was falling in love with another? How was he to bear the grief of knowing she was inside Daffley, preparing for dinner parties and public assemblies and private balls when all he wanted was for her to join him in the library so they might finish that kiss, which had ended before it had even begun?
He was a fool. He’d fallen too hard for a woman he never should have fallen for at all.
“Mr. Steele?”
Edward whirled around as Miss Coventry approached, dressed in her riding habit. Would she mention the comb? His throat constricted.
“What are you doing out in the rain?” he asked.
She raised her voice to be heard above the raindrops plummeting onto the gravel around them. “I rode earlier, before it started up again. I was merely lingering in the stables until I saw you.”
So she’d specifically sought him out? She was going to ask him about the comb, he was certain of it. If he wished to avoid the question altogether, he would leave now.
But leaving Miss Coventry after only speaking with her for a moment was like taking a single bite of a fresh pastry—delightful, but never enough to satisfy one’s cravings.
“You were riding before dinner?” he asked. “Have you forgone your schedule, then?”
She eyed him curiously, no doubt due to his foolish revelation that he knew her schedule. Blast. He was trying to prove that he did not like the woman, not that he was obsessed with her whereabouts like a love-crazed schoolboy.
“I have found that I have a decreased desire to drown my thoughts in routine,” she finally replied.
Because she was out in Society, no doubt. He knew he ought to ask after her dinner party last night, but his heart could not bear what she might say—that it had been exactly what she’d been waiting for.
“I am happy you’ve found the life you’ve so longed for, Miss Coventry,” he said instead, taking a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I shan’t keep you in the rain any longer. Good day.”
“Oh, but Mr. Steele…” She paused, looking around them before settling her eyes beyond his shoulder. “Might we speak for a moment? If we move beneath the trees, we will be provided with more shelter.”
This was not a good idea. In fact, it was a terrible idea. What if her family saw them through Daffley’s windows? What would become of them then?
He had a mind to refuse her offer, but when she made for the canopy of trees lining the drive to Daffley, he followed her without question.
A heavy silence hung between them until they reached the shelter the leaves provided. The rain was mostly stopped by the foliage, but the drops that managed to filter through tapped gently against the leaves, like fingertips lightly clicking against a tabletop.
Miss Coventry stared up at him, her gaze stalwart. “I received your gift last night.”
He pressed his lips together, nodding in silence. He never should have followed her into the trees.
Her eyes were soft as she peered up at him. “I cannot thank you enough. It is as beautiful as any comb I have ever seen.”
He shifted uncomfortably, running his hands across the leather strap of his satchel. “It was nothing, I assure you.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
She grew silent, as if willing him to say something more.
But what could he say without revealing more than either of them ought to be sharing?
“I simply wished to give you a gift of departure, that is all.”
“A gift of departure,” she repeated, her words hardly above the sound of the rain. “I see.”
He averted his eyes, unable to bear the hurt he’d caused her by his words—his lies.
He looked over his shoulder at the lane leading away from Daffley—the lane he ought to be traveling on right now. “I had better take my leave. If your father sees us…”
She was already nodding. “No, we would not wish for him to suspect anything.” She backed away. “Good day, Mr. Steele. I shall not bother you again.”
She made to leave, but without a second thought, he held out his hand to stop her. “Wait.”
