Arabella turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. “We are still friends, are we not?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But that is all I can give for now.”
His brow lifted. “For now?” he asked. “Are you telling me that there might be a chance for us?”
A tear rolled down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it away. “Even after everything that has transpired between us, my traitorous heart still leaps at the sight of you.”
His next words were gentle. “Then I shall strive to be patient.”
“I can’t promise anything,” she responded softly.
“I know, and I wouldn’t expect you to.”
A sudden gust of wind made her shiver. “It would be best if we returned to the manor, where it is warm.”
“Allow me to escort you,” he said, offering his arm.
As they walked back towards the manor, Arabella chided herself. Why had she been so brazen to admit she still had feelings for him? She knew she would always love him, but could she ever trust him again?
Dear Margarette
Langdon Hall, Maidstone
December 24, 1815
How I wish you were here and could have seen the happy faces of the orphans as they decorated the trees! It was a momentous occasion, and Colin even convinced one of the orphans to help trim Arabella’s tree. It didn’t look quite as sad once it was properly adorned.
I have seen a change come over Arabella. She is softening her stance towards Colin, but I am not even sure she recognizes it. She is quite stubborn, much like my late husband was. I know she is protecting her heart, but I fear that she is foolish in doing so. There is so much potential for joy when you open your heart to another.
Colin and Arabella have been taking walks in the gardens and I have been shamelessly watching them from the warmth of the drawing room. It is encouraging, but how I wish you were here to help me with my matchmaking attempts. You always seem to know the right thing to do.
I do hope you are having a pleasant Christmastide. The weather is entirely too cold for my liking, but that hasn’t stopped Arabella from riding every morning. She reminds me so much of my Sophia, and I’m afraid I have grown rather nostalgic.
I hope this letter finds you well, and I look forward to your thoughts on the matter.
Yours fondly,
Esther
Chapter Twelve
Colin sat in an armchair and attempted to focus on the book in his hand, but his thoughts kept turning to Arabella. She’d given him hope for a future between them, and he was elated at the prospect. Now he just had to prove that he was the man for her.
But how in the blazes was he going to do that?
He could buy her anything her heart desired, but he didn’t think that would sway her. She wanted more, deserved more. Somehow, he needed to show her precisely how much she meant to him, but he was at a loss for how to do so. He had no trouble commanding a group of men, but the thought of confessing his love was terrifying.
His brother stepped into the room and headed straight to the drink cart. After he poured himself a drink, he brought it up to his lips and said, “The messenger still has not returned with Marjorie’s reply.”
“Is that a problem?”
John took a sip of his drink. “What is taking her so long to write a blasted note?” he mumbled.
Colin leaned back in his chair and asked, “How long did it take for you to write your letter to her?”
“All night.”
“Then you should grant her the same courtesy.”
