Page 55 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Mr Smith groaned, then stood.

Gabriel held open the door to the shop and followed his patient out.

A gaggle of women stood before the counter. “Another fine carriage. She said her betrothed had come to take her home.”

Gabriel’s ears pricked.

“’Ow much do I owe you?” Mr Smith mumbled.

Gabriel blinked. “Two shillings.”

As one, the gossips turned, and his mother met his gaze with a concerned stare.

While Mr Smith paid and left, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. “Good day, ladies. To what do we owe this congregation?”

Mrs Dawkins said, “We were just discussing the arrival of another fine carriage in the village. Mrs Dixon was happy to announce that her daughter’s betrothed has come to visit.”

His heart jumped to his throat. No, they must be mistaken.

Mrs Briggs continued, “According to Mrs Haughty herself, her daughter is to marry her dead husband’s cousin and return to York.”

No! Blythe had agreed to marry him. She said so before and changed her mind. She had promised she would not go back on her word to him again.

The shop door opened and Billy Briggs poked his head through the gap. “Mam! It’s coming back!”

The women all scurried to the window. Over their heads, he watched the black lacquered coach pass.

Mrs Briggs said, “She isn’t in there. Maybe Mrs Dixon was wrong.”

Mrs Dixon had to be misinformed. Blythe would not do this to him again. He met his mother’s gaze, but she looked down at the counter. She doubted Blythe too.

He resisted the urge to shove the ladies aside and fly up the road to Silverdale.

“If she was already betrothed to her husband’s cousin, why did she come back?” Mrs Dawkins asked.

The ladies’ twittering faded into the background. Gabriel met his mother’s pitying gaze. Had everything been a lie?

No, it was a mistake. She had promised. They had expressed their love in the cowshed. Why would she do that if she did not want to be with him? She did it before and still jilted you.

A strangled gasp preceded a flurry of skirts, and the group of women moved away from the window to stand before the counter.

The door flew open, rattling the bell above. Blythe stood in the entrance, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed.

The ladies ogled, and the air crackled with anticipation.

Blythe glanced their way before turning her attention to him. “Gabriel, may I speak with you in private?”

She had used his Christian name. That was a good sign, was it not? But for some reason, he did not wish to speak to her in private. If she were going to jilt him again, he wanted her to do it in front of witnesses. “I would prefer not.”

The attention of the ladies flitted between Blythe and him like an enraptured theatre audience.

Blythe lifted her chin and closed the shop door. “Very well.” She inhaled and blew out a long breath. “Gabriel, there has been a misunderstanding.” She shot the ladies a derisive glance from the corner of her eye. “My mother was mistaken. I am not betrothed to Mr Drake.”

The weight upon him lifted.

Ten pairs of eyes darted back and forth.

Blythe stepped forward. “I love you, Gabriel.”