A server approached the table and put three glasses down in the center, then walked off with William’s empty one.
As William reached for another glass, he said, “I suppose I do feel some relief that Miss Lloyd is telling at least the partial truth.”
“Did you doubt her?” Haddington asked.
“I did not,” William replied. “I could hear pain in her voice, and it seemed her admission cost her greatly.”
Hawthorne nodded in approval. “That is a good start.”
“To what?” William asked.
“Proving to her that you can be trusted,” Hawthorne said. “She has had a rough go of it since her father died.”
William huffed. “Haven’t we all suffered from the loss of loved ones?”
Hawthorne took a sip of his drink before saying, “Some people feel more deeply than others, and they hold onto the grief too tightly, causing them to lose focus on what is most important.”
“I don’t suppose we are still talking about Miss Lloyd anymore,” William muttered.
Hawthorne placed his glass onto the table. “It is time for you to move on with your life. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to put your life on hold.”
“How would you know what my mother would’ve wanted?” William grumbled.
“She wouldn’t have wanted this,” Hawthorne said, pointing at his glass. “She’d want you to be out living your life, not sequestered behind work and alcohol.”
William tossed back his drink and slammed the glass down. “You do not get to lecture me about what my mother would have wanted!”
Haddington interjected, “We are just worried about you. I can’t recall the last time you attended a social event.”
“They are pointless,” William stated.
“Agreed, but they are an important part of Society,” Haddington said. “How else do you intend to find a bride?”
“I don’t,” William said.
“Surely you don’t mean that,” Haddington responded.
William met his gaze and asked, “Pray tell, where is your wife?”
A pained look came to Haddington’s eyes, but he blinked, and it disappeared, making William wonder if he had imagined it in the first place.
Hawthorne spoke up, drawing William’s attention. “What is your plan to convince Miss Lloyd to trust you?” He hesitated. “At least, I assume that is what you intend to do.”
Reluctantly, William admitted, “I don’t have a plan. Not yet.”
“Then we must help you with one.” Hawthorne shifted his gaze towards Haddington. “Do you have any ideas?”
Haddington bobbed his head. “You could bring her flowers.”
“That is a terrible idea. I’m not trying to court her,” William said. “Flowers would give her the wrong impression.”
“Because you have no intention of pursuing Miss Lloyd, none whatsoever?” Haddington pressed.
“That would be correct,” William replied.
Haddington’s lips twitched. “Then I must pose the question, why do you care if she trusts you?”
William grew silent. Why did it bother him so greatly that she didn’t trust him? He wanted her—no, he needed her—to trust him. He was unable to help her if she refused to confide in him, and he wanted to help her.
