Reaching up, Mattie placed her hand over Mrs. Watson’s and gave her a grateful smile. She could never fully repay the housekeeper’s kindness, but knew she was better because of her.
Her father pushed his plate away from him. “I am meeting with Lord Dallington soon, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me to Brockhall Manor.” He glanced between Mattie and Franny. “Both of you.”
Franny shook her head. “I do not think that is wise. I do not know them, and I am in mourning.”
“I think it might be good for you,” Mattie encouraged gently.
“What if I say or do the wrong thing?” Franny asked. “My mother hadn’t started taking me to call upon her friends yet.”
Mattie gave her an understanding look. “It will be all right. I promise. The Lockwood family has always shown me kindness, and I am sure they will do the same for you.”
Franny paused, uncertainty in her eyes. She then lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. “I think it will be best if I remain here. I wouldn’t want to burden anyone with my problems.”
“Are you sure?” Mattie pressed.
“I am,” Franny replied. This time, she sounded much more confident. “I need more time to myself.”
Her father met Mattie’s gaze. “Shall we depart?” he asked, rising from his seat.
Mattie nodded. “We won’t be long,” she assured her cousin.
As they prepared to leave, Mattie felt a tinge of sadness for her cousin. She understood Franny’s need to be alone, but she also wished her cousin could find some comfort in their company.
Chapter Six
Winston sat on the settee in his bedchamber, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It was so tempting to drink and forget his burdens. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t forget Johnny and the look that was on his face when his mother was hanging right in front of him.
Why had he ever agreed to take that blasted case?
He already knew the reasons. He was trying to establish himself as a barrister, and it seemed like a straightforward case. Yet, his actions caused the taking of someone’s life.
Winston tilted the bottle towards him. He wanted to forget. No, heneededto forget. Ever since that fateful day, he found himself retreating from the life that he once knew. He felt as if he didn’t deserve all the accolades that he had been given.
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Winston stared at the amber liquid in the bottle, his thoughts drifting back to the courtroom. The memory of Clara’s trial haunted him. The evidence seemed clear, leaving no doubt of her guilt. But now, in the dim light of his room, every detail felt twisted, every decision wrong. He had trustedthe judicial system, but he had destroyed a boy’s life in the process.
The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless ache that no amount of whiskey could dull. He had always prided himself on his ability to separate his work from his emotions, to remain detached and objective. But this case had shattered that illusion.
The idea of leaving it all behind and focusing on his sheep farm was a tempting escape. He could envision the simplicity of that life, which was a stark contrast to the demanding world of law. But even as he considered it, he knew it wasn’t a solution. Running away wouldn’t change the past or absolve him of his mistakes.
He sighed, placing the bottle on the table beside him. Winston’s thoughts turned again to Mattie. She had always been there, a thorn in his side and yet a source of comfort. Their relationship was complicated, filled with banter and disagreements, but beneath it all, there was a connection he couldn’t deny.
Despite her exasperating ways, he was drawn to Mattie. He remembered the way she had looked at him on their carriage ride, her eyes full of determination and understanding. She had a way of seeing through his defenses and reaching the parts of him that he tried to keep hidden.
Winston knew he couldn’t hide from his past or his responsibilities. He had to confront his demons, face the consequences of his choices, and find a way to make amends.
But where did he even start?
With a heavy heart, he rose from the settee and crossed the room to the window. The afternoon sun burned brightly, filling the room with an uncomfortable contrast to his inner turmoil. All he wanted to feel was darkness surrounding him. That was what he deserved.
A knock came at the door.
“Enter,” he ordered.
The door was opened, and Grady stepped into the room. “A word, my lord?” he asked, not bothering to wait for a reply before closing the door behind him.
Winston found himself curious as to why the Bow Street Runner had sought him out, knowing it came at great risk to his disguise as a footman.
Grady walked further into the room. “I received word from Jasper.”
