She failed at that one.
“Maddy,” Rimple pushed, cocking her head in that way of hers that she did when she was trying to solve one puzzle or another. Unlucky for Maddy, Rimple’s propensity for solving problems with only the barest whiff of a clue was quite high.
But Maddy wasn’t a riddle, or a piece of broken machinery. Broken, perhaps. But just as illogical as every other person with a brain and a heart that seemed to be forever at odds with each other.
Maddy turned on her heel and started walking back toward the manor house. While she was gone, the school had received a box of books from an anonymous donor, and to her great surprise, the rest of the spinsters had left it more or less undisturbed until she returned. That was something she could bury her nose in while trying to distract herself from Beau.
“You can’t ignore me forever you know,” Rimple said, persistent as always. “I just witnessed a miracle, and I need an explanation.”
“That was not miraculous,” she said. “Just rewarding someone for being good enough to manage the garden.”
“That is exactly my point,” she said. “I didn’t think that was anyone. Next you’re going to tell me you’re going to let Ivy Webber manage the library.”
Maddy rolled her eyes. “Ivy Webber is a bright girl, but the only person I’d trust with that collection is her father,” she said. “And he’s busy.”
Before long, the manor house was in sight, and she could see Phillipa on the front step, waving to them. Maddy’s heart leapt into her throat. She picked up her skirt and ran toward the house, Rimple a few steps behind.
“What is it?” Maddy asked, bounding up the steps, fear crackling underneath her skin.
Phillipa shook her head. “It’s from Dominic. He says he has some encouraging news. He’s on his way home.”
“Has he contacted Ben Miller?” Rimple asked, clearly not trusting any motives of good will or patience from the journalist.
“He hasn’t said,” Phillipa said, an unmistakable line down the centre of her forehead betraying her calm demeanour. Maddy had seen little that could ruffle Phillipa’s feathers, and as yet, that hadn’t changed. “However, at this point I would say no news on that front is good news. Perhaps the Turnbulls have managed to exert some influence on Mr. Miller though Simon Nickerson.”
Maddy nodded, stifling her urge to ask about Beau. She hated herself for thinking of him, for wishing he was here. How had he become so necessary to her? She had gone so long without missing anyone—especially a man.
But she missed Beau da Silva.
After Malcolm died, after she’d fled and learned to protect herself. And she’d done it so well it was almost as if she didn’t know how to stop doing it anymore. Even with the people who’d tried to be good to her.
Beau had been so hurt. She hadn’t thrown so much as a punch, and her knives had all been sheathed, but she’d injured him nonetheless. And he was still trying to help her.
The door swung open again, and Elouise, looking for all the world the beauty she always was, breezed in the front door. Her sunny expression, no doubt warmed by the news that Dominic was coming back, dimmed when she saw Maddy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming straight to Maddy, and taking her hand. “Did something happen?”
The warmth of Elouise’s touch loosened Maddy’s careful control. Maddy caught Elouise’s wordless exchange with Rimple, then she pulled Maddy into the parlour as Rimple closed the door behind her, leaving just the two of them.
“Maddy,” Elouise said again, and though she was at least six inches shorter and five years younger, somehow seemed matronly—or at least, big sisterly. “Oh Maddy, my sweet friend. Why is your heart breaking? Did that man hurt you? Because if he did?— “
Maddy shook her head, barely able to see Elouise through tears she’d been determined not to shed.
“I love him,” she said, her voice a rough whisper.
“I see,” she said. “And do you think he returns the sentiment?”
Maddy squeezing her eyes shut, recalling every moment they’d been together. He’d shown her, over and over, that he cared for her.
“I think so.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“We can’t be together,” she said. “I can’t be with a man like him.”
“Is he heartless?”
“No—the opposite.”
