Patsworth.”
He didn’t say her name in farewell. But he caught her eye—just for a second—and he gifted her with a glimmer of a smile.
Her heart came to a halt. For one moment, she felt like the naive, foolish girl she’d once been, giddy simply because a handsome man grinned at her. She felt the weight of all her worries lift, buoyed away temporarily by the curve of his lips.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to dread everything about her life until she forgot to fear for one second. But then he turned away, and she was left to stare after him, blinking, uncertain of what had just transpired between them.
Chapter Six
I T WAS TEN IN THE EVENING when John finally saw Mary’s slim figure separate itself from the back garden gate.
From there, she picked her way across the meadow, toward the place where he waited in the shadow of the trees. The windbreak wasn’t a proper wood—just a section of steep, rocky soil that followed the slope of the hill, one that would have been almost impossible to cultivate.
Maybe that’s why nobody had bothered to cut down the little coppice of oaks. It was a wild, stony stretch of land, not quite an acre in size. The trees were stunted by the soil; their lowest branches scarcely topped John’s head. The ground underneath his boots was rough with assorted pebbles and carpeted with a thick blanket of granny’s nightcap.
Mary looked one way and then the other as she approached where he stood.
“Mary,” he said softly as she came to the trees.
Her eyes swiveled in his direction; she frowned until she made him out.
“Is this going to cause trouble if Sir Walter discovers your absence?”
She paused. Too long, as if she’d heard the question he hadn’t asked.
“He doesn’t look in on me at night,” she said. “He’s too busy watching his wife.”
There was something ugly there. He’d seen it the first day, even if he hadn’t untangled it. Even when all looked well on the surface, something about Sir Walter simply
smelled
wrong. But she held her head high and met his gaze, challenging him to ask for particulars.
“Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “Walk with me.”
She balked.
“We mustn’t be seen from the house. Or anywhere else.”
“We’ll walk amongst the trees,” he said. “It’s not a lot of space, but we could stroll back and forth.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t take his arm. But when he took a tentative step, she matched his pace.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Ask your questions. I suppose you deserve answers, if nothing else.”
He wanted answers. He didn’t think he was going to get them, though. Even if she’d wanted to explain everything, he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders. He could hear the uneasiness in her voice. Last night, he’d asked and she’d choked, unable to even get the words out.
There were, as he saw it, two possibilities. First, she’d been badly hurt—so badly that she could scarcely bring herself to speak about it. Second, she was lying to him with such brazen deceit that he could trust nothing out of her mouth. In either case, interrogation would get him nothing useful.
“The money is gone,” he said slowly. “Spent.”
“Yes.”
Perhaps it was not so. Perhaps she lied still. But if she did, he was willing to bet that she lied out of fear, not greed. If he wanted the truth, more threats would only heighten her fear.
He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Then I don’t see the point of asking any further questions.”
He’d get his answers by a more indirect route.
A slice of moonlight drifted through the tree limbs, touching her lips with silver. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Opened it again, then shut it once more. “Then why did you insist on seeing me tonight?”
“Today, when I came by, Sir Walter said something that made me think.”
“Oh?” Her tone was flat.
“It made me think,” he said, “that you might be in need of a
He didn’t say her name in farewell. But he caught her eye—just for a second—and he gifted her with a glimmer of a smile.
Her heart came to a halt. For one moment, she felt like the naive, foolish girl she’d once been, giddy simply because a handsome man grinned at her. She felt the weight of all her worries lift, buoyed away temporarily by the curve of his lips.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to dread everything about her life until she forgot to fear for one second. But then he turned away, and she was left to stare after him, blinking, uncertain of what had just transpired between them.
Chapter Six
I T WAS TEN IN THE EVENING when John finally saw Mary’s slim figure separate itself from the back garden gate.
From there, she picked her way across the meadow, toward the place where he waited in the shadow of the trees. The windbreak wasn’t a proper wood—just a section of steep, rocky soil that followed the slope of the hill, one that would have been almost impossible to cultivate.
Maybe that’s why nobody had bothered to cut down the little coppice of oaks. It was a wild, stony stretch of land, not quite an acre in size. The trees were stunted by the soil; their lowest branches scarcely topped John’s head. The ground underneath his boots was rough with assorted pebbles and carpeted with a thick blanket of granny’s nightcap.
Mary looked one way and then the other as she approached where he stood.
“Mary,” he said softly as she came to the trees.
Her eyes swiveled in his direction; she frowned until she made him out.
“Is this going to cause trouble if Sir Walter discovers your absence?”
She paused. Too long, as if she’d heard the question he hadn’t asked.
“He doesn’t look in on me at night,” she said. “He’s too busy watching his wife.”
There was something ugly there. He’d seen it the first day, even if he hadn’t untangled it. Even when all looked well on the surface, something about Sir Walter simply
smelled
wrong. But she held her head high and met his gaze, challenging him to ask for particulars.
“Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “Walk with me.”
She balked.
“We mustn’t be seen from the house. Or anywhere else.”
“We’ll walk amongst the trees,” he said. “It’s not a lot of space, but we could stroll back and forth.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t take his arm. But when he took a tentative step, she matched his pace.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Ask your questions. I suppose you deserve answers, if nothing else.”
He wanted answers. He didn’t think he was going to get them, though. Even if she’d wanted to explain everything, he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders. He could hear the uneasiness in her voice. Last night, he’d asked and she’d choked, unable to even get the words out.
There were, as he saw it, two possibilities. First, she’d been badly hurt—so badly that she could scarcely bring herself to speak about it. Second, she was lying to him with such brazen deceit that he could trust nothing out of her mouth. In either case, interrogation would get him nothing useful.
“The money is gone,” he said slowly. “Spent.”
“Yes.”
Perhaps it was not so. Perhaps she lied still. But if she did, he was willing to bet that she lied out of fear, not greed. If he wanted the truth, more threats would only heighten her fear.
He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Then I don’t see the point of asking any further questions.”
He’d get his answers by a more indirect route.
A slice of moonlight drifted through the tree limbs, touching her lips with silver. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Opened it again, then shut it once more. “Then why did you insist on seeing me tonight?”
“Today, when I came by, Sir Walter said something that made me think.”
“Oh?” Her tone was flat.
“It made me think,” he said, “that you might be in need of a
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