“Mayhap his interest in you was piqued when he learned the identity of your guardian, and mayhap he is more than a little motivated by coin. But such considerations could be said to be a credit to his rationality. His tendency to think things through carefully.” Jonah opened his hands. “A trait he shares with your good self.”
Her stomach churned as if she might be sick.
“Jonah,” she warned.
“When you calculate the sum of it, David Bryce is a good man. A reliable man.”
“I know that, too,” she shouted. “He is reliable and steady and all of the things that Tristan is not.”
There was a scuffle from outside the window, like footsteps. Mirrie’s blood ran cold. Was someone listening? She leaned forward to see, but Jonah held out a hand to keep her back. “’Tis just a group of stableboys,” he whispered. But he hauled himself up from the stool, as if their conversation was at a close.
“So you will accept David’s offer?” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Mirrie looked at him as if he was mad. “I will do no such thing.”
“But you just said he was reliable and steady.” Jonah pursed his lips.
Frustration surged inside her. “I don’t want a man who is reliable and steady. I only want Tristan.”
A beat passed, giving Mirrie more than enough time to regret her outburst. Jonah’s gaze went once to the open window, then settled on her face. “Despite all he has done to anger you?”
“Tristan is all I have ever wanted.” She felt weak as a kitten as the sustaining anger slowly drained away from her. “But things between us are impossible.” Her hands wrung together. “It would be better if I returned straight away to Ember Hall. Can we do that, Jonah? Please?”
She was asking a lot, but Mirrie rarely asked anything of anyone. Surely just one of the de Neville siblings could prioritise her interests this one time?
“Whatever you want.” Jonah took her hands, but a frown clouded his brow. “But are you sure you’re doing the right thing? I am no expert in love, but I understand that compromise is important. We cannot always have what we want.”
Mirrie nodded, shakily. “I know what I’m doing,” she assured him. “’Tis a funny thing, Jonah, but on this point, I believe Tristan has been right all along. No one should marry for less than love.”
*
Tristan walked awayfrom the old bakehouse without any clear idea of where he was going. It had been a foolish idea, he ruminated angrily. He should have known better than to put his trust in Jonah.
He kicked at a fallen branch, taking satisfaction in seeing it skitter into the long grass.
Jonah had gone out of his way to lead Mirrie to a declaration of feeling for the physician. ’Twas as if he had wanted Tristan to be listening outside, for the whole purpose of humiliating him.
His quest was accomplished. For Tristan had ne’er been more humiliated.
Nor angry. Nor seized with such a fierce desire to break something.
He walked until he reached the lake. Then he followed the winding path all the way around the perimeter, paying no attention to the birdsong or the rippling reflections. He was in no mood for the glories of nature. On his way back to the keep, he found Jonah sitting on a low stone wall, apparently waiting for him.
“You left too soon,” his younger brother announced, without preamble.
Tristan folded his arms and regarded him. They had never been close. But nor had he ever before considered Jonah his enemy.
“What did I miss?” He kept his tone neutral.
Jonah was twisting a blade of grass in his long, slender fingers. “She said she loved you.”
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up. “She said those exact words?”
His brother squirmed on the stone wall. “Mayhap not those exact words.” He frowned in concentration. “She said you were all she has ever wanted. And that she would not marry for less than love.”
Tristan let out a low laugh. “I agree on that score.”
“I tell you, if you had not dashed away, you would have heard her declare her feelings for you.” Jonah shaded his eyes from the sun and looked up at him. “Do I need to say more to convince you?”
