She’d meant to forget the softness in his eyes, the precision of his dance, the way he’d asked her to remain, not as an obligation, but an invitation. Yet after a night spent listening to the stillness of her chamber, counting shadows instead of sheep, she’d folded a sheet of foolscap and begun.
She kept the letter brief, with three carefully chosen questions, none of them simple. They weren’t meant to trap him. Just reveal the spaces where silence too often lived.
She wrote slowly, pausing between lines to think, not only about what she wanted to know, but about what it might cost to ask. She could have asked about politics or duty. But she didn’t want the baron. She wanted the man beneath the title. When she finished, she folded the paper once, then again, and held it against her lips.
“Alice,” she said quietly. “Would you see this safely to Lord Ashcombe?”
“Should I wait for a response?” she asked.
“If he chooses to respond, he will. If not…” Leticia shrugged. “I’ve preserved my dignity and left the matter in his hands.”
Her maid blinked, nodded. “Of course, miss.”
After trying to read Camilla and not making much progress, she went to walk the gravel path between the espaliered pears and the trimmed hedgerow. She regretted only the silk slippers. The dew had not yet dried, and she’d not asked permission to use the orchard path. But solitude mattered more than propriety this morning.
She hadn’t expected to see him, not so soon. Not here. Seeing him so at ease, a half-eaten apple in one hand and the sunlight catching in his hair, made her heart beat faster. She didn’t know what she had expected, certainly not this.
He was there. Not near the stables or the terrace, but just beyond the orchard wall, where the south lawn dipped toward the rose garden. His coat was folded neatly across the wall, his sleeves rolled. He took another bite of the apple in his hand, the motion unhurried, his gaze already tracking her approach.
Leticia slowed. “I wasn’t aware you were here, my lord.”
He turned. Not startled, not smiling, simply aware. He tilted his head. “My lord?”
“Gabriel,” she corrected herself.
“Good afternoon, Leticia. I went for a walk and found myself here. I hope I’m not unwelcome.”
“You are always welcome here… Gabriel.”
He retrieved his coat and stepped toward her. “I received your letter.”
Leticia drew the shawl tighter. “You know I expect an answer.”
“Do you want them all at once?”
“No,” she said. “But I expect one today.”
He nodded, slipping the coat over one arm. “Walk with me?”
They took the path toward the smaller garden enclosure, where the air smelled of thyme and damp brick, and the sundial sat half-shadowed beneath climbing roses. Leticia paced slowly, her hands folded before her, expression unreadable.
Ash broke the silence first. “You asked if I’ve ever lied to protect someone.”
She looked over.
“The answer is yes,” he said. “I lied to a man I respected. To shield someone who deserved neither protection nor loyalty. It cost me that man’s trust.”
“Did he ever learn the truth?”
“Not from me.”
Leticia considered that. The garden held its breath. Or perhaps it was only her. Something softened behind her eyes, a flicker of understanding or regret.
A breeze tugged at the edge of her shawl. She clutched it tighter, unsure if the chill came from the air or from his reply. They passed under a bower of roses, petals scattered at their feet like soft punctuation.
“I have the response to your letter here.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a folded paper. “I added a note.”
She took it but didn’t open it. Not yet. Her fingers pressed against the crease, holding it more tightly than she meant to.
