Mattie smiled. “I will miss this cottage when we are at Darlington Abbey,” she said wistfully.
“Why?” Emma asked, genuinely puzzled.
“This is where we both grew up,” Mattie replied. “Won’t you at least miss a small part of it?”
Emma considered her words for a moment before answering with a dismissive shrug. “No, I won’t miss it.”
Mattie wondered what it would take to get through to her sister, because she was clearly failing to do so.
Franny spoke up. “I will miss this cottage,” she said. “On the rare occasions we came to visit, it was always filled with love and warmth.”
Mrs. Watson stepped into the room, wiping her hands on the apron that hung around her neck. “Shall we eat?” she asked cheerfully.
“Yes!” Emma exclaimed, rising.
“Before we adjourn to the table, I wanted to let Mattie know that I cut out the fabric of the gown you suggested,” Mrs. Watson said. “I think it will look splendid as a lining in your bonnet.”
Emma turned towards Mattie. “What fabric?”
“We brought some of Mother’s old dresses down from the attic and we are trying to find a way to reuse the fabric,” Mattie explained. “Would you care for us to save you some?”
“No, I shall buy new bonnets when we arrive in London,” Emma replied. “There is no reason to keep my old ones.”
“I thought it would be nice to use some of Mother’s fabric as a way to remember her,” Mattie said.
Emma did not look impressed by that idea. “But I doubt Mother’s old fabric is even fashionable anymore.”
As Mattie went to respond, Emma cut her off abruptly. “Can we go eat now? I am famished, and I do not care about such things.”
“Very well,” Mattie said. “Let us eat.”
Chapter Sixteen
Winston sat in the library, staring at the fire, a drink long forgotten in his hand. The warmth of the flames danced on his face, but his thoughts were far away. He found that he didn’t want to forget his afternoon with Mattie. He had been vulnerable with her, more so than he had ever before been with anyone, and he didn’t regret it. Those were the memories he wanted to hold on to.
When he had shared his story about Johnny and his mother, Clara, he had expected judgment. But there was none from her. She had listened and accepted him for who he was, making him feel less alone. The weight of his burdens felt lighter, as if he wasn’t entirely to blame for their deaths.
But now he faced a greater problem. Revealing so much of himself to Mattie made him confront things that he had long since buried. He loved her. That blasted kiss had changed everything between them. He was content abhorring her, but once his lips met hers, he saw a future with her.
Even when he hated her, a part of him had always loved her.
Botheration.
What was he to do? Whatcouldhe do? He had to continueplaying the part and hope no one could see how he truly felt about Mattie.
Melody entered the room, holding a paper in her hand. She looked at him curiously. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he said.
She glanced down at his nearly full glass. “I see that you heeded my stern reprimand this morning.”
Winston leaned forward and placed his glass down. “I do listen to you… on occasion,” he said, softening his words with a smile.
“That is good,” Melody responded, sitting across from him.
Winston smirked. “You should know that my valet is rather afraid of you.”
Melody looked baffled. “Why?”
