I laughed softly at his assumption. “I am still Miss Atwood.”
His head snapped to the side, and the clear-cut lines of his cheekbones, so angular a moment before, seemed to soften with his surprise. “But you said you were proposed to.” He shook his head. “You’ve been of a marriageable age for ...” He caught himself, wisely stopping that line of speaking. “I didn’t think—How is it possible?”
“Thank you for the reminder of how long I have been out in Society,” I said. He grimaced, and I smiled to reassure him that I took no offense at the mention of my age. “If I had to marry any man who proposed to me, I would have been married at seventeen. To you.”
He coughed and rubbed one hand behind his neck, just like he had a moment ago and as he used to when he was a boy and was extremely uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame him. I most likely bore little resemblance to the energetic young woman he’d known during my summer in Breckenridge.
He kicked the toes of one boot against the ground. “It’s not as though I was planning on marrying at fourteen. I was naive but not quite that naive.”
“So you were teasing me? Or you knew I would say no?”
“I don’t think I knew what teasing was when I was fourteen. Iwasin earnest. But I knew you would say no.” He lifted one side of his mouth before squeezing his lips together, as if to restrain himself. He motioned with one hand down the path, and we both started walking. “I suppose Ihadkept myself up all night the night before, wondering if there was any chance you might say yes.” His eyes were sparkling again now, both hands behind his back as he strode assertively toward the cottage. He remembered the path. I wondered if he’d ever had cause to go there over the course of the past eight years. “I had a plan, you see. We would keep it a secret for at least three years.”
“A three-year engagement!” I threw my hands to my throat, determined to keep the conversation light. The thought of being married to this version of David was very different from being married to the awkward boy he’d been. “How would we have borne it?”
He chuckled, which brought back the memory of his chest rumbling underneath my own. I needed to remove that thought from my brain. David may have been strangely infatuated with me when I was seventeen, but I was changed enough from that young woman that it was a surprise David had recognized me at all.
“That was just how long the secret part would last,” he said with conspiratorial grin. “We would have to have had at least a six-month engagement after everyone found out.”
My cheeks warmed even though this was nothing more than a funny story we were telling each other about our childhoods. “Three years of secrecy. Such a long time.” I gave a small chuckle.
“I can be very patient when I need to be.” The seriousness in his gaze was disconcerting. He was not helping me keep the moment light. Not even in the smallest of ways.
My lips formed a pout as I tried my best impression of a coquette. It was probably ridiculous, especially at my age. “You wouldn’t have come to visit me in London?”
He scowled. “If visiting you in London had been at all possible, I would have tried to find you when I turned seventeen.”
It was my turn to be chastised. Earlier, he’d brought up my age, and now I’d reminded him of the lowly circumstances of his youth.
I cleared my throat. “Why when you turned seventeen?”
“It was the first time a woman called me handsome. But don’t worry, I’m not so brash or foolish anymore. Perhaps we should speak of something else.”
“Yes, of course. Mr.... I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recall your surname.”
His shoulders slumped slightly as he looked into the distance and narrowed his eyes. “It’s Tate.”
“Tate?” I definitely would have remembered had I known it. “No relation to Lord Murphy?” I left off the wordsI hope, but with our connection, I was certain he felt them. I’d only seen Lord Murphy once. He was a large man, both tall and broad, and even though I was on the other side of the street from him in Breckenridge, the scowl on his face would have been visible from a much more significant distance. The Mortensens had told me enough stories of his iron rule over them and his other tenants that I shouldn’t have been surprised by his behavior, but when he raised his voice and took the handle of his horse whip to one of his footmen, the sight had left me physically ill.
“We’re related.” David’s voice was flat and emotionless. He didn’t seem interested in speaking of Lord Murphy, and I felt the same. “But not close.”
I let out a tense breath. Of course he wasn’t closely related to the man—he was nothing like him. Not in size or character. Lord Murphy’s influence affected most of the village and its surroundings. He was even worse for this community than Mr. Green was for Silverfork. Perhaps David was a nephew or even more distantly related. No close relation to the viscount would have roamed the countryside dressed the way David had when he’d been younger.
David nodded and coughed lightly into his hand, and when he spoke next, I knew it wouldn’t be about Lord Murphy. “What brings you to Breckenridge? And how long will we have the honor of your presence?” he asked.
“I brought Mama and me here.” Only a change in subject from Lord Murphy could make me want to talk about the direction my life had taken since we’d last met.
“And your father?”
“He passed away a year after we left Breckenridge.”
“Oh,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
I could see he was, but also, I’d never excelled at comforting others when the subject of my sorrows came up. “We’ve managed. But I’m afraid coming here was a terrible mistake.”
“You aren’t the type to make mistakes, and I hate to have you thinking that returning to Breckenridge was one.”
I laughed at the absurdness of his assertion. “I don’tliketo. I’m not certain anyone does. But I do make them, and I’m afraid I have made very many, especially lately. I thought Mama and I would be able to live in the cottage long-term, at least for the next year and a half.” When I turned twenty-seven, I would receive Papa’s inheritance whether I was married or not, and it would be enough for us to afford a residence and most of our basic needs. “But the cottage will only beempty until the first of March. In two weeks, we will have nowhere to go. So, no, I cannot count coming here as a wise decision.” Mama was probably still crying at home as she had been when I’d left her. Too many problems at once overwhelmed her to the point of making her ill. And I’d caused that by making us come here with no more of a plan than begging Mr. Preston for help.
