“Well, Helena sounds like a wise young lady.”
“He would absolutely run away if I tried to kiss him.”
Mrs. Tucker placed a finger and thumb beneath Lucy’s chin and lifted her head. “I don’t think he would.”
“But if he did?”
“Well, that would depend.”
“On what?”
“Whether he knew who you were when it happened.”
CHAPTER 17
The next morning,Miss Shroud was unusually quiet while they made their deliveries. For the first time since he’d met her, Matthew found himself being the one to start conversations. He’d tried the weather, the upcoming festival, and even Mandy, but after a sentence or two, the conversation always faded.
They finished their deliveries in record time, helped by the fact that almost everyone in town was preparing for the festival. It wasn’t long after noon when he turned Marge toward Mr. Bennion’s home. Miss Shroud looked into the back of the cart and then pulled back in surprise. “We’re done already?”
“Yes. It’s a good day to finish early.”
She nodded, but just like the rest of the morning, she didn’t say anything in response. Is this how she’d felt that first week and a half when he’d barely talked to her? Why did it even matter? She would be leaving soon. If anything, it was better for her to be silent. It would be better for him to remember her this way, and not as the brilliant woman who’d chatted with him on every delivery or clung to him in the rain.
She scrambled down the cart as soon as he arrived at Mr. Bennion’s home, and when he called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she didn’t respond. Not even to sayI hope so.
She hadn’t even asked him if he would be attending the festival. He wasn’t planning on it, but if she’d pressed the issue he might have gone, for her sake. He unhitched Marge and brought her to her stall. Then he grabbed a handful of oats and fed it to her.
“She’ll be gone soon enough, and then it will be just you and me again,” he said, while Marge made quick work of the oats in his hand. “We’ll have our peace and quiet back. That will be nice, won’t it?”
The nice thing about his closest confidant being an old mare was she never called him out when he was lying. Even if he was lying to himself.
Mrs. Tuckerand Lucy helped each other put their hair up in the most extravagant designs the pair could come up with. It was the best they could do, since neither of them had a fancy dress to wear. Lucy hadn’t thought to pack anything close to a ballgown…not that she would have worn it, even if she had. The festival wasn’t a ball for the wealthy and titled. It was a time for the townspeople to come together and celebrate the close of winter and beginning of spring.
Lucy had been looking forward to the festival since she first heard of it, but now that it was upon her, she wasn’t certain why she’d cared in the first place.
The festival would be a lot like church—a time to avoid Miss Creighton. Only unlike church, Miss Creighton could be around any corner, or speaking with any group of people, without Lucy noticing and therefore able to protect herself. She would be on edge the whole time.
She didn’t think Mr. Harrison would be attending. When he’d left her, he said he would see her tomorrow. Which meant on an evening when the rest of the town would be out enjoying themselves, her fiancé would be stuck in his room with his nose in a book.
Did she really want to marry someone who would rather read than interact with his community?
“How does that look?” Lucy asked after fastening another ribbon to the side of Mrs. Tucker’s hair. The ribbon had the added benefit of covering up one of the curls Lucy hadn’t managed to get quite right with the iron.
“Perfect,” Mrs. Tucker said. “Fenswallow will be falling at our feet.”
Lucy laughed. “That’s hardly my intention.”
“Intention or not, prepare yourself for it. Mr. Harrison won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
“It will be hard for him to keep his eyes on me when he is reading a book, alone in his room.”
“He isn’t coming? Are you certain?”
“Quite certain.”
“That won’t do. I’ll make Mr. Miner fetch him. This is the perfect chance for the two of you to do something other than work together.”
“I haven’t minded working with him.”
