“Yes, but my grief seems inconsequential compared to Franny’s,” Mattie shared.
Winston took a step closer to her, but still maintained a proper distance. “Why is that?”
Mattie’s brows knitted together. “Franny lost both of her parents,” she replied. “I merely lost an aunt and uncle.”
“I hadn’t realized that it was a contest on who had a right to grieve more,” Winston responded gently.
“It’s not, but…” Her words trailed off, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I can’t seem to focus on my own grief, knowing how much pain Franny is in.”
Winston crossed his arms over his chest. “Why does that burdenfall upon you?”
“Because my father is dealing with the loss of his brother and the daunting prospect of running an estate,” Mattie said, her voice heavy with responsibility. “I do not wish to burden him any more than he already is.”
“What of your sister, Miss Emma?” he inquired.
Mattie huffed. “I fear that Emma will only make the situation worse since she is rather self-absorbed,” she said. “She should be arriving tomorrow.”
Winston studied her, noting the weariness in her eyes and the rigidness in her stance. “I have known you for a long time, and I have no doubt that you will weather this storm and do so spectacularly.”
Mattie gave him a small, rueful smile. “You are far too confident in my abilities.”
“I have always admired your strength, Mattie,” he admitted earnestly. “You are not one to sit by and let life pass you by. You are determined to live your life, on your terms, even if that means you throw a mallet or two.”
She laughed, a genuine sound that did inconvenient things to his heart. “I have only thrown a mallet at you before.”
“So you admit that you were aiming at me?” he asked with a teasing smile.
Not looking the least bit repentant, she replied, “I was, but that is only because you cheated at pall-mall.”
Winston let out an exasperated sigh. “Not this again,” he said. “We were not playing a game when I moved my ball.”
“I didn’t move mine,” Mattie remarked, her tone playful.
“You didn’t need to,” Winston pointed out. “Regardless, it might be best, for the sake of our friendship, if we let that matter drop and agree that we did not see eye to eye.”
Mattie considered him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. “I will agree, but only because I would very much like to be friends with you again.”
“Good, because I think we are better as friends,” Winstonsaid. “And I do not want to be hit by a mallet again. It rather hurt.”
She laughed again, the sound softening the tension between them. “I promise I will not throw a mallet at you ever again… even if you deserve it,” she responded, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Winston grinned. “Thank you. That is very reassuring.”
They stood there for a moment, watching each other, but Winston was not in a hurry to fill the silence with useless chatter. In Mattie’s presence, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—reprieve. The weight of his burdens seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. It was as if Mattie had the power to chase away the shadows that had been plaguing him.
An adorable blush crept up Mattie’s cheeks, and she dropped her gaze. “I wonder what is keeping your mother,” she offered.
“I shall go find out.”
“Thank you,” she responded.
As he walked to the door, he stopped and turned back around. “Mattie, I… I want you to know that I am here for you,” he said. “Whatever you need, whatever support I can offer, you have it.”
Mattie met his gaze. “That is most kind of you to say, Winston.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer than what was considered proper before he departed from the drawing room. He didn’t know what had transpired between them, but he felt it was a promising step towards rekindling their friendship.
As he stepped into the entry hall, he saw Elodie was standing by the door. He lifted his brow. “Dare I ask what you are doing?”
