“That does not excuse his behavior.”
Edwina clasped her hands in her lap. “I just wish things were different,” she murmured.
“Don’t we all?” Mr. Warren questioned. “But you can’t look for your future in your past. You must move forward.”
“And if I can’t?” Edwina asked.
“Then you shall have a life of misery, not being able to let go of what once was,” Mr. Warren said. “Your father wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”
Edwina grew silent. Mr. Warren’s words resonated with truth, but the challenge of putting her past behind her felt overwhelming.
“But enough of me preaching to you,” Mr. Warren said, his tone lightening. “I would prefer to speak on something else. Anything else, really.”
Grateful for the change in conversation, Edwina shared, “I did see Matilda up in a tree on my way here.”
“Of course you did. I can hardly get her down from there,” Mr. Warren remarked, a touch of pride in his voice.
“I did not see Baxter though.”
Mr. Warren turned his head towards the window and said, “Baxter is sleeping just outside the window. Mrs. Warren won’t let him come inside to sit by the fire.”
“Well, she is right in doing so since he is a goat.”
“Shh,” Mr. Warren urged, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t let Baxter hear you say that. He doesn’t realize he is just a goat.”
A laugh escaped Edwina’s lips and she brought her gloved hand up to cover her mouth.
Mr. Warren lowered his hand and informed her, “Your cousin came by a few days ago to look in on us.”
“He did?” Edwina asked, surprised by her cousin’s thoughtfulness.
“Yes, which I was most grateful for, but I was surprised he didn’t send one of his servants to complete the task,” Mr. Warren replied.
“I am surprised as well,” she admitted.
“Lord Dunsby has always treated us with kindness.”
“I must admit that my cousin has made these past few months bearable for me,” Edwina said.
Mr. Warren nodded. “He is a good man, there is no questioning that, but I am concerned about you. You seem troubled.”
Not wanting to delve deeper into the conversation, she abruptly rose. “I should be going. I do not wish to take up too much of your time.”
“You can run all you want, but when you eventually come to a stop, just remember that I will be here,” Mr. Warren said.
Edwina offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Warren entered the room as she dried her hands off on the apron that was tied around her waist. “Did you have a nice chat?” she asked.
“We did,” Mr. Warren confirmed.
Turning to face her, Mrs. Warren inquired, “Would you care for a biscuit before you depart?”
“That is kind of you to offer but I should leave now so I can prepare for dinner,” she replied. “My cousin invited his friend to Brockhall Manor and he will be dining with us.”
Mrs. Warren’s eyes twinkled. “Is he handsome?”
An image of Lord Hilgrove came to her mind. Undoubtedly handsome, he possessed a square jaw, a straight nose, and dark hair that framed his face. But it wasn’t solely his appearance that captivated her. No, it wasn’t that at all. It was his eyes. They harbored a depth of sorrow, much like her own. And she knew there was a story in them, waiting to be told.
