“Nay.” Her voice was a whisper, though she should have adamantly denied that one. “At least, not to the crown.”
“Traitorous to someone else?”
“Nay. At least, I don’t think so. And I won’t know until…”
“Until what?”
Lucy took a deep breath. She trusted Mrs. Tucker almost as much as she trusted Helena. “Until I tell Mr. Harrison that he and I are engaged.”
Mrs. Tucker blinked a few times, then leaned forward. “Who,” she asked very seriously, “is Mr. Harrison?”
Lucy barked out a laugh. She’d been so nervous to tell Mrs. Tucker about her whole fiasco, she hadn’t even realized her announcement would make no sense to her. For some reason, that little surprise made her relax and tell Mrs. Tucker the whole story. Mrs. Tucker, to her credit, didn’t interrupt with questions, or even to express distaste at what Lucy had done. Not even when she told her about the trick she and Helena had played on Mr. Harrison. Although her eyes widened at that point, Lucy suspected Mrs. Tucker felt that if she stopped Lucy’s story, she might never get to hear the end of it.
By the time Lucy finished her confession, they had arrived home and Mrs. Tucker had started to boil water for tea. Mrs. Tucker looked up at Lucy, pausing to be sure Lucy had told her everything before pulling out two teacups.
“Are you certain that is all you have to tell me?”
There was one more tiny thing. “Nay. I have one more confession.”
“You might as well tell me now. Otherwise how will I help you get your man?”
“Ye're goin’ to help me?”
“Of course. I’ve spent my days mending clothes for the past five years. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to have something this exciting happen to me.”
Lucy rushed to Mrs. Tucker and wrapped her in her arms. “Thank ye. Though ‘tisn’t necessarily my goal toget my man.‘Tis to decide if I want him at all.”
“You’ve been deceiving me since the day I met you, and I don’t blame you. But the only person in this room you are foolingwith that sentiment is yourself. I’ve seen that Mr. Harrison of yours, and I saw the way you spoke of him just now. Your only frustrations with him are based on the fact that he doesn't interact more with you. You’ve seen him to be a gentleman with that Garvis family, and he has proven protective of you. If you have any hesitations with the way he looks, we’ll need to take the cart to London and get you a pair of spectacles.”
Lucy’s face warmed, but her lips betrayed her even more than her complexion when she smiled. She grabbed Mrs. Tucker’s hand. “He’s pretty exceptional for a man, isn’t he?”
“You're a lucky woman, Miss…” She paused.
“Bateman. But please, continue to call me Miss Shroud.”
Mrs. Tucker shook her head and chuckled. “Miss Shroud and Mr. Scarper. The two of you and your names…”
Lucy leaned forward. It felt so wonderful to have a co-conspirator. “I know. I probably shouldn’t have called myself ‘Shroud.’ If he thinks about it at all it will be obvious I was mimicking his choice of moniker. If he is going to run away and be called Scarper, then I will go into hiding and be called Shroud. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out. That choice alone will probably have him running away from me all over again”
Mrs. Tucker sat at the table and motioned to the empty chair. “Miss, I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you walk back into the house each night. He won’t be running away from you. Now, tell me, what is this last thing you are hiding from me?”
Lucy practically ran to the seat. “How does he look at me?”
Mrs. Tucker shook her head. “Secrets first.”
“Oh that. It's quite a small thing compared to everything else.” Lucy shrugged and dropped her accent. “I’m not Scottish.”
CHAPTER 10
Matthew isolatedhimself even more than usual since Miss Shroud arrived in Fenswallow. He kept his deliveries as short as possible in order to get her home as soon as he could, and even when he wasn’t delivering, he avoided leaving his room unless absolutely necessary.
In a town like Fenswallow, a newcomer like Miss Shroud was certain to turn heads, especially when people learned what she was doing here. He couldn’t walk down the street without having someone stop him and ask about her.
So he avoided the streets and everyone on them. He’d practically run out of church two days ago, and it had worked. He’d managed not to be accosted by anyone. He’d eaten alone in his room each night, and hadn’t even allowed himself a visit to the grocer. But last night he’d eaten the last of his bread, and he couldn’t stomach eating only cheese for dinner.
Which is how he found himself pushing open the door to the inn for the first time since Mr. Miner had cornered him and peppered him with questions about Miss Shroud. Just as he feared, as soon as he set foot inside, Mr. Miner beamed and waved him over to his table.
He should have eaten the cheese.
