The sweat glistened from Miles’ brow and he wiped it away with the back of his gloved hand. “That should be enough for now,” he said.
Edwina could sense the weight of grief and pain that hung around Miles like a cloak. She knew she shouldn’t pry, but her curiosity got the best of her. “May I ask how John died?”
Miles’ jaw visibly tensed. “In a duel.”
“How awful,” she murmured.
“It was a needless way to die, but John had always been too cocky for his own good,” Miles said. “He never thought anything bad could happen to him. He lived a life with no fear.”
Edwina offered him a weak smile, trying to offer comfortin any way she could. “A little fear is a good thing,” she responded tentatively.
Miles’ gaze softened as he looked at her, his blue eyes searching hers. “That it is,” he agreed. “It reminds us that we have something to live for.”
“Does this mean you have found a new purpose for which to live?” Edwina asked.
Miles held her gaze for a moment before answering, his expression giving nothing away. “I believe so,” he said.
Edwina felt something stirring in her heart but she refused to acknowledge it. She couldn’t. But her treacherous heart didn’t seem to listen- or care.
Taking a step closer, Miles asked, “May I have my jacket back?”
Blinking rapidly, Edwina stumbled over her words. “Yes, yes, you can,” she managed to say. “I was just holding it for you so you could chop wood.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Miles’ lips. “And you did a wonderful job.”
Feeling flustered and embarrassed by her own behavior, Edwina extended him the jacket. “Yes, well, it was far easier than chopping wood. Which you did brilliantly.” Why couldn’t she stop yammering on? What must Miles think of her?
Amusement danced in Miles’ eyes as he said, “You do not need to heap praises on me for chopping wood.”
“When else would I do it, then?” Edwina retorted.
Miles glanced up at the sky. “We must hurry if we wish to join everyone for breakfast. Although, I fear we might already be late.”
“Most likely, but I am sure my family will understand.”
Miles lifted his brow. “And what would your uncle say about that?”
Straightening her shoulders and adopting a stern tone, Edwina replied, “A lady should never make excuses for being late for breakfast.”
He chuckled. “You sound just like him.”
“I have had a lot of practice,” Edwina said. “I miss Uncle Lionel. He was always so carefree before my father passed away. But now he’s burdened with responsibilities and constantly criticizes me.”
Miles slipped his jacket back on and gestured towards the path that led to the front of the cottage, indicating she should go first. “He does seem much more serious these days, but he has always been one for propriety.”
“That he has been,” Edwina sighed. “But it has only gotten worse since he became a marquess.”
Miles’ gaze turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
She glanced over at him as they walked side by side. “There is no need to apologize. This is my lot in life, I’m afraid,” she said. “He even called me ‘mousy.’”
“Mousy?”
“Yes, I happened to overhear a conversation between my aunt and uncle.”
Miles shot her a meaningful glance. “You mean you eavesdropped?”
“Some might call it that,” Edwina said with a slight shrug of her shoulder. “But I prefer calling it ‘collective listening.’”
