Winston’s chest swelled with pride. “But the land where the cottage sits and the sheep graze all belongs to me,” he shared. “I love nothing more than sitting on the porch and watching the sunrise.”
“That sounds rather perfect to me,” Mattie said wistfully, meeting his gaze.
“It is,” he replied softly.
Hearing the sound of approval in Mattie’s voice made him realize how much he longed to share that moment with her. Alone. With no one else.
Winston turned his head towards the countryside as he tried to quell his wayward thoughts. Why was he even thinking about such things? He and Mattie were just friends. Which was rather impressive, considering their tumultuous past. And he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize what they had.
As the village came into view, Miss Emma perked up. “I have not been to the village in ages,” she declared. “I do hope the shops will have an array of ribbons for me to look at.”
“You can look, but I think it would be best if you only selected dark colors,” Mattie suggested. “We are, after all, in mourning.”
Miss Emma glanced down at her black gown with disdain. “Do not remind me,” she muttered. “I look awful in black.”
“Mourning is not for our sake, but to keep the memory alive of the deceased,” Elodie remarked.
“But no one here knew my aunt and uncle,” Miss Emma protested.
“Your cousin did,” Winston pointed out.
Miss Emma pursed her lips together, clearly not pleased with this reminder. “Yes, well, there is that,” she said flatly. “And I suppose my father is grieving the loss of his brother.”
Silence descended over the group as they rolled into the village. The carriage glided to a stop in front of a shop and Winston stepped down onto the cobblestone pavement. He reached his hand back to assist the ladies out of the carriage.
As Miss Emma exited the coach, she gripped his hand tightly, flashing him a coy smile. “Thank you, my lord.”
Winston worked to keep the emotions off his face. Miss Emma was far too young and naive to understand how inappropriate her behavior was. She wasn’t even out of the schoolroom yet. Did she truly not understand how inappropriate it was for her to flirt when she was in mourning? He was beginning to see what Mattie had been dealing with all along.
But as he assisted Mattie out of the coach, her hand slipped into his and she thanked him with genuine gratitude. Her touch was gentle and demure, a stark contrast to Miss Emma’s brazen advances. And in that moment, Winston felt more drawn to Mattie than ever before. He pushed aside his thoughts and released her hand, pretending that her touch had no effect on him. Or his heart.
Botheration.
This would not do. He had been down this path before and it only led to heartache.
Elodie’s voice cut through his musings. “The cobblestone pattern is rather interesting, is it not?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Winston lifted his gaze. “My apologies. I was lost in thought.”
“About the cobblestones?” she asked. “Because, if so, your thoughts must beincredibly dull.”
He grinned. “No, I was not thinking about the cobblestone.”
“Good,” Elodie replied. “Because we do not want you getting trampled by a horse while admiring the ones in the street.”
“You are a delight, Sister,” he remarked.
Elodie beamed. “I know.”
Offering his arm, Winston asked, “May I escort you inside the shop?”
“Thank you,” Elodie replied, taking his arm. “I think I shall purchase a fan to keep the bugs away from me on the journey home.”
“You seem to be the only one bothered by bugs,” he commented.
Elodie shrugged. “Perhaps, or maybe you were too distracted by Mattie to notice them.”
Winston stiffened at the mention of Mattie’s name. “I do not know what you are referring to.”
