Bennett strolled over to the drink tray, setting his glass down. “I still can’t fathom what Arabella saw in you. Surely it wasn’t your lackluster cricket-playing skills.”
“I don’t know either, but I was most fortunate that she did,” Miles expressed.
“Perhaps she hit her head one too many times, as well,” Bennett joked.
Miles let out a heavy sigh. “You make it nearly impossible to be your friend,” he said. “I don’t think I have met a more bacon-brained person than you.”
Bennett simply laughed in response. “You can’t shoot the messenger,” he retorted.
“I think I may need a nap now since our conversation has exhausted me,” Miles declared, feigning annoyance.
Bennett gestured towards the door. “Come, let us adjourn to the parlor where we can play a game of chess.”
“You will lose, just like old times,” Miles remarked.
“Maybe I will surprise you,” Bennett responded, leading the way out of the study.
Miles followed his friend from the room, but he hoped he would beat Bennett rather soundly in chess. He had grown wary of surprises, as they tended to be more bothersome than a delight in his experience.
Chapter Two
Edwina walked down the dirt path, running her fingers over the wildflowers that bordered the trail. As she tilted her head towards the sun, she welcomed the soothing warmth, appreciating the contrast to the usual cloudy weather.
During moments like these, she almost forgot that her life was in utter shambles. She needed to find a way to move forward and let go of the lingering heartache of her past.
But it was proving to be entirely too difficult.
The Warrens’ cottage emerged on the horizon, and accompanying the sight was the distinct sound of a goat’s bellow resonating from overhead. Lifting her gaze, she spotted Matilda perched on the lower branches of a nearby tree.
Edwina let out a laugh. “What are you doing up there, Matilda?” she inquired, amused by the goat’s antics.
In response, Matilda let out another resounding bellow, as if offering an explanation for her lofty perch.
Continuing towards the modest cottage, Edwina reached out and knocked on the door. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing the welcoming figure of Mrs. Warren, a short and portly woman.
A warm smile graced Mrs. Warren’s face. “Lady Edwina, what a pleasant surprise,” she greeted. “Do come in.”
Returning the smile, Edwina stepped inside and inquired, “How is Mr. Warren today?”
Mrs. Warren let out an exasperated sigh. “He is awful. Just awful. Despite the doctor’s advice to stay off his feet for a few days, he keeps trying to get out of his chair.”
Edwina, holding up the book in her hand, suggested, “I hope a book might distract him then.”
“One can only hope,” Mrs. Warren responded. “Would you mind sitting with him while I finish preparing our supper for this evening?”
“I would be happy to,” Edwina replied.
As Mrs. Warren headed towards a room off the corridor, Edwina followed and found the tall, heavy-set Mr. Warren seated on a chair, his right leg propped up by a bench. His once vibrant black hair that adorned his head had started to fade, now marked with streaks of white.
“Look who came to visit,” Mrs. Warren announced cheerfully.
Mr. Warren glanced up, his kind eyes crinkling around the edges. “My lady,” he said.
Edwina took a step forward, extending the book towards Mr. Warren. “I brought you a book that I thought you might enjoy.”
Accepting the book, Mr. Warren studied it for a moment. “Thank you,” he acknowledged. “I haven’t readRobinson Crusoe.”
“I had hoped that was the case,” Edwina said.
