Page 56
A strange burning occurred in his chest. “I’m certain ye left your poor betrothed distraught. ’E must be nursin’ ’is wounds for bein’ jilted.”
She barked out a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll recover.”
He paused, eying her. “Did ’e not want the marriage to occur?”
“Oh, I think he hardly cares one way or another.”
She certainly seemed to feel the same way. Why did that knowledge lighten the load across his shoulders? “What makes ye say that? The man agreed to marry ye, didn’t ’e?”
“Only ’cause he be forced to do as his father said or he’d lose his own fortune.” She glanced behind her, as if to ensure the others weren’t listening, then she faced forward with a lowered tone. He had to lean slightly closer to hear her. “He’s not the type of man to commit to just one woman. Even in marriage.”
Trevik’s brow lowered, and his jaw tightened as she continued.
“The day we were told that we’d marry, we attended a ball. We were supposed to share the supper dance together, but when he didn’t appear, I sought him out, catchin’ him headed toward the gardens with a woman with a painted face.” She sniffed with derision. “’Fore that, I’d almost managed to convince meself to go through with the weddin’. After, though, I knew I couldn’t.”
The horse tossed her head before them, and only then did Trevik realize his grasp on the reins had tightened. He loosened them, drawing a steadying breath. “Surely your uncle would’ve stopped the marriage ’ad ’e known…”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “Surely, he wouldn’t. I spoke to Uncle that evenin’, sayin’ I wouldn’t marry a man who couldn’t be true ’fore we were married. Do ye know what his response was?”
He waited, afraid he already knew the answer.
She tucked in her chin, lowering her voice and putting on an accent as fine as the one he’d first heard her speak in, though now he knew why it had changed.
“‘That will be in your future no matter the man you marry, Miss Hollow. You must simply learn to accept it.’” She shook her head. “That was the moment I made up me mind to leave.”
Trevik didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t understand men who chose not to remain true to their wives. He, himself, had been raised by a morally chaste father and mother. How he longed to tell Miss Hollow that not all men behaved in such a debased manner. But how could he share such a thing without her assuming that he was saying he would make a better husband?
Instead of risking saying something that could be misconstrued as an utterly ridiculous invitation, he held his tongue.
“Trevik,” Mother called from behind, “can ye ’and me the bag at your side, please?”
“’Course.” Trevik shifted the reins to one hand, reaching down with his left to the side of the wagon. He struggled for a moment with a grunt, the bag not budging with only one hand to tug it free.
He straightened, shifting the reins to Miss Hollow. “Will ye ’old this for a moment?”
Miss Hollow lifted her hands in a gesture of retreat and leaned back. “Oh, ye best not put me in charge o’ the beast.”
He paused. “’Twill only be for a moment.”
“Per’aps, but I ne’er controlled a horse in me life. Best not leave your fate in me hands.”
“Ye be so afeared ye won’t even hold the reins?”
“Afeard?” She looked affronted. “I ain’t afeared. I just…She be so large.”
He fought another smile.
“Ye find this humorous, do ye?”
“Frankly, I do.”
She waited for him to explain.
“Ye be a woman who can swim in the darkness o’ the sea without battin’ an eye and sing in front of a crowd full of strangers who thought ye be a mermaid. Yet, ye be nervous to ’old the reins of a tacked up ’orse?”
A slow warmth slid across her eyes as she peered up at him. “I s’pose ye have a point.”
“’Ere,” he said, reaching for her hands himself. Gently, he placed the reins in one of her palms.
