Mattie carefully considered Lady Dallington’s words. They were in the countryside, so the mourning requirements were far less stringent. And it would be nice to be outside.
Coming to a decision, Mattie said, “I think I would like to play a game of pall-mall.”
Elodie clapped her hands together. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “We will have to ask Winston to join us to even out our numbers.”
Mattie weighed her words carefully. “Do we have to invite Lord Winston?” she asked.
“Is there a problem with Winston?” Elodie asked, feigning innocence.
“It is just that… playing pall-mall with Lord Winston hasn’t always been the most enjoyable experience,” she admitted. “He has a tendency to cheat.”
Elodie raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on herlips. “You two both have a very different recollection of what happened during that particular game.”
Mattie pointed at her forehead. “I have a memory like a hawk.”
“A hawk?” Lady Dallington asked. “I haven’t heard that expression before.”
“Melody came up with that expression and I do think it fits,” Mattie shared as she rose. “Thank you for the reprieve, but I do think it is time that I return home and start on my tasks at hand.”
Rising, Elodie asked, “Is there anything that I can help you with?”
“You are kind, but I have to do these things on my own,” Mattie replied. “At times like this, I especially miss my mother.”
Elodie placed a hand on Mattie’s sleeve. “No matter what happens, you will always have us.”
“Unless I become a slow blinker,” Mattie quipped.
“Well, that goes without saying,” Elodie countered with a grin. “Come, I will walk with you to the door.”
As they made their way towards the main door, Mattie felt grateful for her visit to Brockhall Manor. Lady Dallington and Elodie had briefly made her forget her troubles. It still baffled her that they were related to the ornery Lord Winston. Although he had surprised her on this visit. He had shown a depth of compassion that she didn’t think was possible for him.
Standing at the door, Elodie gave her a final, reassuring embrace. “Remember, Mattie, we are always here for you.”
Mattie felt a small but genuine smile form on her lips. “Thank you, Elodie. I will remember.” With that, she stepped out into the fresh air, ready to face the tasks awaiting her at home.
Chapter Three
A white mist hung low to the ground as Winston charged his horse forward, savoring the solitude of the early morning. The stillness wrapped around him like a comforting shroud, and he relished the reprieve from his burdensome life. At this hour, he was alone, free from the chatter and expectations of others, which was a rare and precious gift.
Yet, a familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at him. Despite having everything he had ever wanted, he felt weighed down by expectations and fears. What if he never made something of himself? What if he forever lived in the shadow of his father, or worse, his brother?
His father was a marquess and Bennett was the golden child, the heir. Winston was merely the spare, the one who had to leave home and find a profession that suited him. And he had done just that. He had become a barrister and found great satisfaction in his work—until that one blasted case.
The memory of Johnny haunted him. The boy, no older than ten, had stood in front of the platform where his mother had been hanged. Her crime had been thievery, but she hadn’t deserved to die. And yet, Winston’s actions had led to herexecution. He could still see Johnny’s tear-streaked face, the raw pain in his eyes.
Winston slowed his horse to a trot, the mist swirling around them. He could no longer escape the reality of his choices or the consequences that followed.
He had thought becoming a barrister would bring him purpose and fulfillment, but that case had shattered his illusions. Now, he was left grappling with guilt and a profound sense of inadequacy. How could he ever hope to live up to his own high expectations when his conscience was so heavily burdened?
As he led his horse into the woodlands, Winston wanted to rediscover the happiness that he once felt, though he doubted it was truly possible. The notion that he even deserved happiness was questionable. He had taken Johnny’s mother from him, leaving him alone. How could he ever reconcile that fact?
Ahead, the steady murmur of the stream reached his ears before he saw it. The sound was comforting, and this was his sanctuary, his place for a moment of peace. But as he turned the corner, he realized he wasn’t alone.
Miss Bawden.
What in the blazes was she doing here? This was his place of solitude, not hers. Besides, it was his family’s land, and she was trespassing.
Winston reined in his horse, the sound of hooves muffled by the soft ground. He dismounted quietly, not wanting to startle her, but his presence had already been noticed.
