Sister Agnes smiled softly. “A wise woman.”
Matilda managed a small smile in return, though her throat felt tight.
They worked in silence after that, trimming, gathering, breathing in the scent of earth and roses. The peace of the abbey surrounded her in the form of gentle voices, soft wind and distant bells, but none of it reached the turmoil within.
When the noon bell rang, calling the sisters back to prayer, Matilda rose and brushed the soil from her hands.
Sister Agnes looked at her kindly. “You’re more quiet today.”
“I have much to quiet,” Matilda replied softly.
The nun’s expression softened further. “Give it time, my dear. Even the noisiest heart grows still, if you let it.”
Matilda bowed her head. “Then I shall pray for silence.”
But as she walked back through the cloister, she knew silence was not what she truly wanted.
What she wanted was to stop rememberinghistouch,hisvoice,hiseyes.
What she wanted was to forget Jasper Everleigh.
And what frightened her most was the certainty that she never would.
Jasper arrived at Hazel Thorne’s townhouse late in the afternoon, when the London fog had begun to settle thickly over the streets and the last of the daylight glimmered weakly through it.
He had not slept. He had not truly eaten. His clothes still bore the creases of travel, his hair was untidy, and there was a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and the slow, gnawing weight of regret.
When the butler announced him, Hazel rose from her writing table with evident surprise. She had not expected him, and certainly not in this condition. Her composure, however, remained perfectly intact. It was one of her many admirable, if somewhat intimidating, qualities.
“Your Grace,” she greeted him coolly, folding her hands, which was a clear signal that she was not particularly inclined to speak with him. “This is an unexpected call.”
He bowed slightly. “My lady, forgive the intrusion.”
“Forgiveness, I think, depends upon the reason.”
He hesitated only briefly before speaking. “I need to know where she is.”
Hazel’s expression did not change, but a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her. “So, that is why you have come.”
“Yes,” Jasper said. “I went to her home. The new Viscount could tell me nothing. Only that she left for a convent, somewhere in the south. I have searched for every abbey in Surrey and Sussex, and still I cannot find her. If anyone knows where she’s gone, it is you.”
Hazel studied him in silence. Her gaze was calm. It was the look of a woman who had seen more pain in others than she wished to, and refused to be easily swayed by charm or title.
“And what, may I ask, do you mean to do if you find her?” she said at last.
Jasper exhaled slowly. “Speak to her. Tell her the truth.”
“The truth?” Hazel repeated, arching one brow. “And what truth would that be, Your Grace? That you have decided she is worth your notice after all? That you intend to do thehonorable thingshe begged you not to?”
Her words struck sharper than he’d anticipated. He swallowed. “No. That I was wrong.”
Hazel gave a short, quiet laugh, but it was without humor. “Indeed. I believe Matilda might have reached that conclusion herself.”
He took a step forward, feeling as if he might come undone before this woman. “Please, you must understand, I never meant to hurt her.”
Hazel’s eyes flashed, though her tone remained even. “And yet you did. Quite thoroughly.”
He looked away for a moment. “I know.”
