“I know you will, my lord, but I have also assigned a man to watch over your family, just as an extra precaution,” Winston said. “I will not let any harm come to you. You have my word.”
Mattie felt a surge of gratitude towards Winston, mingled with a growing sense of unease. As much as she appreciated his protection, she could not help but shake the feeling that their troubles were far from over.
“May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Bawden?” Winston asked.
Mattie glanced at her father for permission, but he seemed lost in his own world. “Very well,” she replied. “We can speak on the porch.”
Winston gestured towards the doorway, indicating that she should go first. Mattie moved towards the porch, her footsteps echoing in the quiet cottage. Once outside, she paused, the cool night air wrapping around her. She turned to face Winston, her expression expectant.
“Are you well?” Winston asked.
Mattie turned her gaze towards the darkened fields. “I do not know what to feel,” she admitted. “I had thought Mr. Blythe was an honorable man until you told me otherwise.”
“But you believe me?” he pressed, his voice holding a hint of urgency.
There were a few things that Mattie knew for certain. One of them was that she trusted Winston, wholeheartedly. Never once had he lied to her, despite their many disagreements.
“I do,” she replied, meeting his gaze.
A look of incredulity crossed Winston’s expression, as if he had expected a different response to his question. “I will keep you safe, Mattie.”
Mattie reached out and placed a hand on Winston’s sleeve. “I know you will,” she responded.
Winston glanced down at her hand on his sleeve with an indiscernible look, and she quickly withdrew it, embarrassed by her brazen actions. What must he think of her? They were hardly friends, and she had no right to touch him in such a familiar fashion.
Instead of the rebuke that she was expecting, she was surprised when he said, “I am touched by your faith in me.”
“Why wouldn’t I have faith in you?” she asked, genuinely curious.
He took a step closer to her, his eyes burning with an intensity she had never seen before. “Because of that kiss?—”
Winston’s words came to an abrupt halt when the door opened. Her father stepped onto the porch, his expression unreadable. “It is time for you to go, Lord Winston,” he ordered.
Taking a step back, Winston bowed. “Goodnight, my lord. Miss Bawden,” he said before approaching his horse.
As Lord Winston rode off into the night, her father asked, “Is something going on between you and Lord Winston?”
She shook her head. “No, we are just friends.”
“Interesting,” her father said, opening the door wide. “Shall we retire for bed?”
Mattie followed her father into their quiet cottage, but her mind was racing. Winston had brought up their kiss. She wondered if he ever thought about it. Not that she did. But even she knew she couldn’t fathom that lie. It was always there, dwelling in her thoughts, a constant reminder of the connection they shared, however fleeting it might have been.
Chapter Nine
Winston stepped into his father’s study and saw that he was hunched over his desk, a lone candle burning and providing barely enough light to read the ledgers strewn out in front of him.
His father looked up as Winston walked further into the room, his eyes weary. “Now, pray tell, why did you take off so suddenly during dinner?”
Winston walked over to the drink cart and picked up the decanter. “Isaac was at Lord Wythburn’s cottage this evening.”
With a baffled look, his father straightened, setting his quill down. “Whatever for?”
“He is playing a game, and I don’t like it,” Winston replied before taking a sip of his port. “I spoke to Isaac briefly this afternoon and the conversation did not go in his favor.”
His father leaned back in his seat. “It is best if you do not antagonize Isaac. He is unpredictable and dangerous.”
“He knows we are keeping Sarah and Matthew from him, despite my insistence that we do not know where she is,” Winston said.
