Matthew ignored the regretful tone of her voice. Why was everything about Miss Shroud affecting him today? Was it a lack of sleep? He hadn’t been sleeping as well the pastfew days. Something about having Miss Shroud here had him wondering if he should be returning home to meet the woman he was supposed to marry. “You were supposed to be waiting with Marge. Next time make some noise when sneaking up on someone.”
“If I made noise, that would hardly count as sneaking, now, would it?” She laughed. Only Miss Shroud could be stranded and shivering and still find a reason to laugh. “Not that I was sneaking. I wanted to help. ’Tisn’t my fault the rain is so deafening.”
Matthew put a hand into the soggy soil and hoisted himself into a sitting position. Miss Shroud held out a hand, and though he had been working hard to keep his distance from her, he took it. Their situation couldn’t get any worse than it already was. And thanks to Mr. Miner, at least he knew she had no interest in him, other than what she could learn from his delivery service.
He had almost made it to a standing position when Miss Shroud’s foot slipped out from under her. He tried to catch her while she tried to secure a better hold on him, but he wasn’t upright enough to steady either of them. His feet slipped forward and, no matter how he tried to make purchase on the treacherous ground, there was nothing to stop him from falling back into the mud.
Miss Shroud fell forward, and while he really should have wrapped his arms around her and used his body to soften her fall, avoidance had become a habit. Instead, he instinctively pulled his body to the side.
He landed on his back, and Miss Shroud, with arms flailing, landed face-first in the mud with a horrifying slap.
He gasped. Why was he such an idiot?
“Miss Shroud?” He jerked to a sitting position and pulled back her shoulders. Her face was plastered in dark muck, but he could see that she was breathing all right through it. He pulled asoggy handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping her face. He bit his lip to keep a laugh from escaping. The two of them were a complete disaster. “Miss Shroud, are you all right?”
Miss Shroud grabbed the handkerchief from his hand and wiped her mouth. “Am I all right?” she said after wiping it clean. “I’m cold and I’m wet and I’m now covered from head to toe in mud. Nay, I’m not all right.”
“But nothing is broken?”
She wiped her eyes and opened them. “I hardly know.”
Any humor at the situation left him. What if she had been injured? His hands slid from her shoulders down her arms, pressing on her elbow and wrists. “Does this hurt?”
She shook her head silently.
He ran his hands down her arm and then pulled her hands closer to his face so he could examine them through the rain. He pulled off her gloves and tested each of her fingers between two of his. “This?”
Another shake.
The front of her bonnet and hair were caked in mud, and even though he’d stopped himself earlier, he slid his hands down the sides of her face to clear it. They were long past formalities now, and she was in love with some other man. Cleaning off her face was nothing more than him being friendly, and heaven knew he hadn’t been friendly enough with her. “I believe you will survive.”
She blinked a few times as if she were in shock. Had he missed checking somewhere? Where else could she be injured? Miss Shroud looked down at his handkerchief. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded far off. “I may survive, but it looks as though yer handkerchief will not.” She giggled softly.
“I’ve got plenty of handkerchiefs. Don’t worry about it.”
“My dress.” Miss Shroud rubbed her hands down the front of her dress, which only made matters worse. His handkerchiefwas no match for the thick mud sticking to it. She touched her hair next, which was most certainly a mistake. Spatters of mud became clumps, tangled under what was left of her hat. “I must look like an absolute wreck.” She used one of her sodden gloves and wiped her face again.
Is that what she was worried about? She’d been very quiet since her fall. He hoped that was why, because if not, the only explanation was that she was mad at him for not catching her.
And she should be. What kind of man was so worried about touching a woman, he allowed her to fall face first into mud rather than help her? He climbed to his feet, making certain his feet were solidly on the ground beneath him, and reached for her hands. “I rather like you this way.”
She wrinkled her dirt-covered eyebrows and grabbed his hands firmly. Hers felt like ice. He needed to find a way to keep her warm. He pulled her steadily upward until she was standing only a few inches apart from him. Her head tilted to make out his face. “Ye like me looking like a disaster?”
He laughed. “Well…” Staying away from her seemed less important when she was covered in mud, especially since his avoidance of her had caused the mess in the first place. He wanted to hold her close until her shivers subsided and her body relaxed into him, but instead he put an arm over her shoulder and tucked her into his side. He ignored the part of his brain that told him she fit so perfectly wrapped up close to him that perhaps she belonged there. “You must admit, it puts us on more equal footing.”
She whipped her head around. “Ye don’t see us as equals?”
“Miss Shroud,” Matthew said as he started them back toward the safety of the oak. “Your father owns a large business. Your clothing, your bearing—everything about you—shows exactly how different our circumstances are. You are a fine young lady and it would be impertinent of me to treat you as an equal.”
Miss Shroud made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Is that why ye never talk to me?”
“Were you hoping I would talk more?”
“’Twould be nicer than sitting in silence, thinking ye don’t like me at all.”
He really was a beast. She’d been here nearly two weeks with him as her only company for most of the day and he’d treated her like a pariah. Why? Because she was attractive? Who did he think he was? She didn’t care if he thought she was attractive or not. She was here on business. Why couldn’t he get that through his thick skull? “Is it important to you that I like you?”
She stumbled and he pulled her tighter to him. She wasn’t a small woman, exactly, but tucked next to him and shivering, she felt smaller than she was, like someone he should be protecting. She was quiet for a moment before answering his question. “Don’t ye like to be liked by people?”
