Page 64 of A Stormy Season

“But then . . . I suppose I regretted doing that, just a bit.”

“Did you speak to him about it? Did you say you were sorry?” Catherine asked.

“No. But I think he . . . perhaps . . . forgives me.”

“Why? Because you saved his son from being kidnapped? I should think he was extremely grateful for that. Do you still think Mr. Watley is a good man?”

“Yes, I believe he is a very good man.”

“Do you like him?”

“I suppose you could say that I like him.” Jane felt her cheeks flush.

“Then you should speak to him, ask his forgiveness for dancing with other men when you were supposed to be making people believe you were engaged. Apologize for your part of the quarrel. Jane, if he’s a good man, you should marry him.”

“He doesn’t want to marry me.” Jane was surprised to feel a prickling behind her eyelids and a hollow feeling in her chest.

“How do you know?”

“He said so.”

“He said he didn’t want to marry you?”

“We both said it, more or less, although not in those exact words. I’m sorry, Catherine. I don’t think I can decipher the books today. I suppose I’m tired from the trip.”

“I don’t doubt that. You’ve had a harrowing experience. Why don’t you go home and take a nap.”

“You look rather tired yourself.” Jane noticed the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “Is everything all right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping very well. I’ve had some nightmares. But I am well enough.”

Jane squeezed her friend’s hand. “Why don’t you let me stay the rest of the day while you go home and get some rest.”

“Absolutely not. Now go home.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Jane said. “I’ll stay late tomorrow and you can go home early.”

“Molly is coming in to take my place tomorrow so I already have that arranged.”

“Very well. I know better than to argue with you.”

“Yes, you do. Now go home.” Catherine playfully pushed Jane toward the door. “And don’t come in tomorrow if you don’t feel up to it. The books can wait.”

It was raining rather hard, so Jane was grateful she had brought her umbrella. The guard offered to hire a hackney coach, but Jane refused. She didn’t mind walking as long as she had her umbrella. But halfway home, the wind began to blow quite fiercely. She quickened her pace and was glad to finally make it. Her skirts were soaked from ankle to knee and her feet were quite frozen.

“Oh, Jane!” Penelope hurried toward her and helped her off with her wet jacket. “Fetch some hot water to Miss Gilchrist’s room,” she told the servant. “You are soaked to the bone.” Penelope’s forehead was creased in concern.

“I am well,” Jane said, but her teeth betrayed her by chattering.

“I declare, this has been the coldest, wettest spring, and this is turning out to be quite a storm.”

“I’m very glad Catherine lives above the shop so she doesn’t have to go out in this.” Jane would have sent the carriage for her otherwise.

Just then, Luke came into the hallway and his eyes locked on her.

Her stomach sank. Luke would see her looking like a drowned rat.

“Are you all right? You shouldn’t be walking in this weather,” Luke said, stating the obvious.