He stared at me, a frown of indecision momentarily tugging at his features. “I did. But the reasons with which I set forth are no longer the reasons that keep me continuing to seek out your company.”
“Then why not tell me what they were?”
“Why not ask what they are now?” he asked quietly.
Yes, that is what I should be asking. Because that was what really mattered, wasn’t it? Wasn’t the past just the past?
And yet, the past mattered. It made us who we were. And the present, whatever was going on between us—I couldn’t trust it unless I knew the past.
This dance between us, the back and forth, the looks and silences—I couldn’t do it. Not when heartache was the only outcome. I dropped the stick and his hand fell away from mine.
“Perhaps we should return,” he said after a few moments of silence.
We turned and headed toward the formal garden at the back of the house. We’d made it halfway to the door when he stopped. “Please do not throw yourself away on my cousin.”
I ran my fingers across a white flower. “You cannot truly wish to unite yourself with me. I bring you no advantages.”
“And you cannot truly wish to live a life of misery. Northam will only hurt you further.”
I lifted my gaze to his. “And you’re promising me you won’t?”
“I can promise to try not to.” He stepped nearer. “Don’t give up on something because of someone else’s deception. Not all men are like Mr. Rosthorn.”
No. Some men were like Gregory, nonsensical and able to capture a woman’s heart against her will. “How am I to believe this when you won’t tell me why this began?”
He plucked a rose off a bush and twirled it in his fingers. “I admit my actions could be considered drastic.” He sighed before focusing on me as though to assess my reaction. “It was the only way to finally put an end to Northam’s games.”
This was not the response I had expected. “How does your engagement to me have anything to do with your cousin’s habits?”
Gregory hesitated, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
We searched each other’s expressions for a moment before he said, “Margaret, I—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “I apologize, Miss Brinton. You were right to correct me. I should never have taken such liberties in addressing you so casually.” He held the flower out to me. When I reached to take it, his fingers wrapped around mine. He stepped closer. “Only, I cannot bear to call you anything so formal. I don’t want to be distant and formal with you.”
We stood, inches apart, and I felt that even if all in the world turned wrong, as long as he had me I would be safe.
“Ah, Miss Brinton, Lord Williams.” Mr. Lundall’s all-too-familiar voice cut through the moment. I instinctively stepped closer to Gregory, realizing too late that I was leaning against his chest. I stepped away, yet Mr. Lundall frowned as he made his way toward us; he had obviously observed us.
“I hope I am not too late to join in your morning walk,” he said.
“Unfortunately, we were just returning to the house,” Gregory said. He rubbed his thumb over my fingers again. I yanked my hand out of his grasp.
Mr. Lundall’s eyes narrowed at Gregory. “Miss Brinton, I was hoping to enjoy a quick, private word with you.”
Not again. “I apologize, Mr. Lundall, but I wouldn’t wish to be late for breakfast. Perhaps at a later time?”
“It will only take a minute.”
“Yes, but the air is uncomfortably chilled. After breakfast the air will have warmed.”
He didn’t look convinced but held his arm out to me anyway. “Very well. Please allow me to escort you in.”
I resisted the temptation to look at Gregory. “There is really no need for such formality.”
“I would consider it a great honor, Miss Brinton.” Mr. Lundall bounced his elbow up and down, emphasizing its presence.
I sighed and took his proffered arm. “Thank you.”
As Gregory passed my seat to take his own at the table, he placed the flower next to my plate. My gaze wandered to it more than I would have liked. Everything Gregory had said felt like the truth, yet he was still hiding something, and it seemed important. But how important was it? Was it worth sacrificing whatever attraction lay between us, whatever future lay before us, simply because he wouldn’t tell me? What if I were to set aside my misgivings and just see where allowing myself to care for him led?
Gregory and my father left the breakfast table and I tried not to watch Gregory as they disappeared out the door. When Lady Williams rose, I glanced around. It would be only Mr. Lundall and me left at the table. I would not be cornered in the breakfast room with the servants listening to Mr. Lundall propose yet again. I hurried after Lady Williams, leaving Gregory’s flower on the table.
Mr. Lundall rushed up to me. “Our walk? We have little time, for I have requested my chaise to be at the door at noon.”
“Of course.”
I dragged my feet through the entry. As we exited the front door, we came upon Gregory speaking with Miss Perrin. A servant arranged an easel a few feet away, and a lady who must have been Miss Perrin’s chaperone sat on a bench near the house, a book in her lap.
Gregory and Miss Perrin turned at our approach.
“Miss Perrin, how good to see you again,” I said.
“And you.” Her cheeks colored. “Mr. Lundall, I did not know you were still here.”
Mr. Lundall bowed and kissed her hand. “I am leaving in half an hour.”
“So soon?”
“I’m afraid so.” He turned to me. “Shall we?”
I sighed. “Very well.”
“Just a moment, Miss Brinton,” Gregory said. “Miss Perrin has come to paint a scene of the river. Would you be interested in joining her?”
“Oh.” Of course Miss Perrin was an accomplished artist. And of course I was not. “Um. . . .”
“Miss Brinton,” Mr. Lundall interrupted, “I did not know you were an artist. Which is a shame, because I am a vast lover of art.”
“Perhaps you will stay and attend to our progress?” Miss Perrin suggested rather hopefully.
The servant appeared with another easel, and Mr. Lundall straightened his shoulders. “I say, man, put that right here.” The servant set the easel in the appointed place.
“No, not there.” Mr. Lundall took a few steps to the side. “Here.”
The man did as he was bid.
Mr. Lundall surveyed the location, then shook his head. “Over here, I think.” He strode thirty feet away. “Yes, here. This is perfect.”
The man glanced at Gregory, who nodded, so the easel was once more placed where Mr. Lundall had indicated. Mr. Lundall shifted from side to side before nodding his head. “Yes, this is the perfect spot.”
“Oh, I have never painted from that location,” Miss Perrin exclaimed. Turning to me, she asked, “Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” I replied.
She smiled and hurried to Mr. Lundall.
“It appears Mr. Lundall has an admirer,” Gregory said.