Miss Bawden laughed. “Do you want me to hate Lord Hilgrove?” she asked. “Just say the word and I will do it.”
“No, I don’t want you to hate Lord Hilgrove. I don’t even hate him,” she reluctantly admitted.
“You seemed to get along nicely before he said something so bacon-brained,” Miss Bawden remarked.
“We did,” Edwina said. “He isn’t awful.”
“If that is true, then perhaps he just misspoke,” Miss Bawden suggested.
“No, he spoke plainly enough.”
Uncrossing her arms, Miss Bawden asked, “So we are back to disliking him?” Her eyes held a mischievous glint to them.
“No, I don’t dislike him either. I am just angry at him,” Edwina admitted. “Who tries to compare one’s grief with another?”
Miss Bawden gave her a knowing look. “Someone who is hurting.”
“I am hurting, too.”
“It isn’t a contest,” Miss Bawden said. “Grief is a lonely walk alone. People will be there to try to help, but it is something that you must do on your own. In time, hopefully, you will come to your own peace.”
“Does that excuse his behavior?”
Miss Bawden shook her head. “No, but it gives you some perspective,” she replied. “Try to have some compassion towards his plight.”
Edwina let out a frustrated sigh. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, and I always will be,” Miss Bawden replied. “That is why I am telling you all these very intelligent things, if I do say so myself.”
She had to admit that her friend did have a point. “Your advice isn’t awful.”
Miss Bawden beamed. “I daresay that I have been listening to my father far too much. Being a vicar’s daughter does have some benefits.”
“Your father is a good man.”
“He is, but he doesn’t know what to do with me,” Miss Bawden shared. “He thinks I am far too outspoken.”
“Which you are.”
Miss Bawden gave her a look of innocence. “No more than any other young woman in the village.”
Edwina laughed. “That is entirely untrue.”
“Now whose side areyouon?” Miss Bawden asked, using Edwina’s words against her.
A knock came at the door, interrupting their conversation.
Turning her head, Edwina saw Lord Hilgrove standing in the doorway, his piercing gaze fixed upon her. “May I come in?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his baritone voice.
Edwina wanted to send him away, but something was holding her back. And it was that something that wanted to know what he had to say. “You may,” she replied.
Lord Hilgrove stepped into the room. His tall frame and sharp features were softened by the sunlight that flooded through the windows. “I was hoping to speak to you, privately, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“I’m afraid that is impossible, my lord—” Edwina started.
Miss Bawden spoke over her, speaking quickly and confidently. “It is entirely possible, if I remain in the library for propriety’s sake.” She walked over to the chair in the far corner and settled into it gracefully. “I will sit right here, but I can’t promise I won’t eavesdrop. It is a terrible habit that I hope to overcome one day.”
As Lord Hilgrove took a step closer to Edwina, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. He lowered his voice, making her lean in slightly to hear him better. “I wanted to apologize to you for what I said earlier. It was wrong of me.”
