Page 70

“I do not know. We could speak with your father…”

The very idea made her throat constrict.

He pulled his brow back from hers. “He will not listen to us, though,” he finished.

She nodded. Father was far too aggravated with Beatrice’s choice to never marry. Marianne saying that she had decided to marry a woodcarver would be even worse.

“We cannot keep it a secret,” she said, though she longed for that to be a viable option.

He nodded at once in agreement. “Speaking the truth will only infuriate your father to the point that I will no longer be employed here.”

That could not occur. Too much was at stake for him and his mother to risk losing any amount of pay from Father.

“What options are we left with, then?” she asked, despair swiftly swallowing her hope in one large gulp.

He must have sensed her worry, for he reached forward, gently wiping away the moisture sliding down her cheek. “We keep up our hope and pray for a sunset.”

Warmth settled again into her heart, and she raised on the tips of her toes to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

But a voice disrupted their moment of solitude, deep and loud…and coming directly from the house. “Marianne!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Fear clenched Edward’s chest, refusing to release its hold. This was not how Mr. Coventry was supposed to find out.

This was not how at all.

The man stormed toward them, the door to Daffley Park swinging wide open behind him. He wore neither jacket nor hat, his waistcoat unbuttoned and cravat clinging to his shoulder from the rain.

“Mr. Steele,” Miss Coventry breathed.

“It will be all right,” he said, though he did not believe the words himself. He reached down, taking Miss Coventry’s hand in his, willing his fingers not to tremble.

How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he have been so stupid, so careless? Mr. Coventry would, in no way, allow Edward to keep his job. His future as a woodcarver was lost. How would he care for Mother? How could he be with Miss Coventry?

His hope spiraled down like a bird diving toward land, only he could not spread his feathers and swoop back into the sky. He was grounded, stranded upon the earth for he, like a fool, thought he could sail without wings.

Mr. Coventry shouted from across the grounds once again. “Remove yourself from my daughter at once, Steele!”

But Edward held fast, and so did Miss Coventry, her grip on his hand even tighter.

This was the last way Edward had wished to go about matters, but time could not be turned. He and Miss Coventry had chosen their path, and he would not regret it—even if the fury in Mr. Coventry’s stride made the hair on Edward’s neck stand on end.

“What in the devil do you think you are doing, Steele?” Mr. Coventry shouted, fire in his eyes as he approached.

Edward held up a hand. “Sir, allow us to explain—”

“Oh, you are past explaining,” he growled.

The closer Mr. Coventry raged, the more Edward realized the man was not stopping. Would he take a swing at Edward? Pull Miss Coventry back into the house? He moved his shoulder in front of her to protect her no matter what her father did.

“How dare you!” Mr. Coventry shouted, stopping inches from Edward’s face. “How dare you come under my roof and steal away my daughter.”

Edward drew a steadying breath. He longed to shove Mr. Coventry back to a respectable level, but the father had every right to be angry. Edward had acted abominably.

“Father,” Miss Coventry began, “he did not steal me away. We are—”

“I will speak with you later!” he shouted, pointing his finger at her.