“Then, no. That was a particularly abnormal stop.”
“Mr. Scarper.” Miss Shroud turned in her seat, her eyes wide. “Do you not want me here?”
When she turned, her knees hit the side of his leg, and his instinct was to slide farther away from her. But he held firm. If she didn’t notice the point of contact, well then, neither would he. “If Mr. Bennion wants you here, I owe it to him to allow you to come.”
“Allow me to come? I’ll have ye know I’m givin’ ye a great deal of help at the moment, holdin’ yer goose.”
Just then, the goose swung its neck around to Miss Shroud’s face and nipped somewhere near her ear. Miss Shroud gasped,and, once again, a wing broke free. Matthew dropped Marge’s reins and grabbed the goose from Miss Shroud. Her hands immediately went to her ear, groping it in panic. “Am I bleedin’? Did that goose bite off a piece of my ear?” She turned in her seat, pulling at Matthew’s jacket so he would examine her injury.
Tucking the goose firmly under one arm, Matthew leaned over Miss Shroud. The bottom of her earlobe was angry and red, but he found no blood. “Your ear remains intact.”
Her hand was still on his lapel and she clenched it tighter. “Are ye certain?”
He took a deep breath, which was a mistake. He’d meant to remove himself mentally from Miss Shroud, but instead, he took in her scent. She smelled of days long past—of balls, and the women who’d sprinkled themselves with rosewater. The hand that didn’t have him by his lapel was sliding up and down her exposed neck, looking for injury, but instead of finding any, it drew Matthew’s eye to her delicate skin.
He pushed away, handed her the reins, and climbed to the back of the cart to put the goose in the box. Before returning, he filled his lungs with fresh air.
He was a fool.
Why had he agreed to spend three weeks with this woman?
When he returned and took the reins back, Miss Shroud said nothing, but her hand rested at her neck. He clicked at Marge and they started on their long journey to Fenswallow once again.
He kept his eyes on the road, but couldn’t sit there without at least checking on her. “Is it still hurting?”
“It smarts a bit. But I’ll recover.”
He nodded and didn’t say another word to her until they reached Fenswallow. When she asked to go into a different shop while he delivered the goods to the milliner’s, he didn’t blame her.
At the end of the work day, he pulled Marge to a stop in front of Mr. Bennion’s home and, for a few breaths, the two of them sat in silence. They had gotten in and out of the cart enough times that it was habitual, but somehow it felt different now that their day together had come to an end.
He let out a sigh, then stood and climbed down. When he reached for her hand, she took it. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she turned to him. “I had a pleasant day.”
He supposed he should respond to that. He wasn’t aware that he was supposed to be showing her apleasanttime. “Despite being almost eaten by a goose?”
She laughed. “Even despite that.”
Her hand was still in his. Whose responsibility was it to pull away from the other? He gave her another moment, but when she didn’t use that moment to drop his hand, he pulled his away. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I will see you tomorrow.”
She looked down at where their hands used to touch. “I hope so,” she said, before turning and walking to Mr. Bennion’s door.
I hope so.That didn’t sound very certain. Had the day been hard enough on her that she’d decided to return to London? If she did, it would make his life much easier. She held her full skirts as she climbed the steps. She made a pretty picture, with the sun setting low in the sky, her back poised and a few strands of hair resting below her bonnet against the nape of her neck.
He shook his head.Shewas supposed to be observinghim, not the other way around. Miss Shroud opened the door to Mr. Bennion’s home, and suddenly she was framed in the soft light coming from inside. She turned and gave him a parting smile that lit up her face, looking more like a young lady who had just opened a present than a young lady who had spent all day working out in the sun, climbing in and out of a cart.
He gave her a nod and the briefest of smiles, then turned to unharness Marge. When he heard the door close behind him, he let out a groan and his head sagged onto Marge’s nose.
Three weeks. He could spend three weeks with a woman without having his head turned by her. Couldn’t he? She was simply one more person in his life that he needed to keep at arm’s length. He’d managed to keep himself nearly isolated for three years, letting only Mr. Bennion and Mr. Garvis become more than superficially familiar with him. He could remain aloof and disinterested for three measly weeks.
He rubbed the coarse hair between Marge’s eyes and she blew warm air onto his neck. “We are all right, aren’t we? Just the two of us.”
In answer Marge nipped at his collar.
If it weren’t for Marge and the sense of duty he felt toward Mr. Bennion, Matthew might have packed up his books and left town. But he didn’t want to do that to either of them. So instead, he rubbed Marge down and walked the few blocks back to his rented room.
The moment he finished washing up, he pulled open a book. Something told him the next three weeks would go a lot better if he didn’t allow himself any time to think.
CHAPTER 8
