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Chapter 31
It was a funny thing, the passage of time. As the weeks drifted into July, Ewan found himself alight and passionate in ways he hadn’t envisioned. He spent a decent amount of time with Penelope, who, as days passed, seemed to grow bored of his inability to, say, row boats or perform masculine duties. Ewan hated to admit it to himself, but he’d grown bored of her, as well. Their story had been one of sunny days and brilliant sunsets; it hadn’t the longevity he’d craved.
He explained this to Baldwin one afternoon while out riding. Baldwin considered this, his brows furrowed.
“Poor Penelope,” he said finally. “We’ve both decided against her.”
“The thing of it is, Baldwin: I believe she’s decided against me, as well,” Ewan affirmed. “The only thing this has built up in me is the understanding that I want love in my life. The idea of it filled my heart with longing.”
Baldwin nodded. Suddenly, he flung his leg over the side of the horse and stood in the space between the two mighty beasts, his eyes across the moors.
“If you keep at it, you’ll find it. At least, that’s what I want to believe,” he said.
Throughout the past weeks, Ewan had done his best to ensure that Baldwin and Marta were allowed space and time together, alone. He made excuses for them, spoke atlength with his mother about boring topics he cared little for if only to distract her. He knew that Baldwin and Marta had grown in love for one another, creating the sort of love Ewan so craved.
“I don’t know how we’ll manage it,” Baldwin muttered, now dipping into his own chaos, “But I will ask her to marry me before the summer is through. Hear me. Know that this is so. Perhaps we will run away to be together. At this point, I would throw it all away for her.”
“He came over again last night,” Ewan murmured, speaking, of course, about the Duke.
“Marta wrote me about it,” Baldwin affirmed. “I told her that it isn’t her fault, that of course, we have to uphold old traditions before we decide what to do. I know she knows I plan to propose. I pray she’s equally willing to throw it all away.”
“She’s already been forced to throw away her life in Austria,” Ewan said. “I suppose another life thrown-out would do nothing to her.”
“I hope you’re right,” Baldwin returned.
The two men split up after that: Ewan riding back to his estate, his heart dripping into his belly and lips sombre. When he arrived, there was a letter awaiting him. He was surprised, yet pleased, to find the letter to be from Penelope Sussell herself.
Dearest Ewan,
We’ve had the sweetest time, but I must tell you that I find no future in our hearts combined.
Thank you for the sunshine and the laughter. Perhaps we can come together one day as friends. I wish you luck.
Penelope
Ewan read the letter in the garden. He folded it and slipped it into his breast pocket, praying he would remember to destroy it. It wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to run into later, a memory of another thing lost. Already, it seemed he’d lost so much. When he tried to analyse his affection for Baldwin, even, he found that he couldn’t fully feel it as he once had.
There was a screech from behind the garden. Ewan’s ears perked up as he rose and shuffled out of the garden gate. When he appeared between the hedges, he found Laura,Malcolm, and Walter amid a reckless game of ball. Laura held the ball above her head, her hands gripping it as she spewed German to the two children beneath her.
Whatever she said, it seemed hard-edged and wild—yet her smile was sterling and bright.
Ewan felt he’d never seen a more beautiful creature in all his life.
Suddenly, she dropped the ball onto the ground and let out a big, boisterous laugh. Ewan had never heard such laughter come from such a tiny woman. Malcolm and Walter scrambled for the ball, fighting over it, as Laura approached him. Her eyes were alight, her smile unfading.
“We always make too much noise, don’t we?” she said. “Your nephews, they are, how you say? Quite…”
“Insane?” Ewan returned.
“I don’t know this word,” she said. “But whatever it is, I’m sure I agree with it.”
Ewan chuckled. “Your English is much better.”
Laura blushed. “I’ve studied a lot. Marta wants only to speak of Baldwin, but I make her tell me some things in English so that I may learn.” She ducked her head a bit, smirking slightly. “I don’t understand everything. But I must admit that the language is much easier than I initially thought.”
“Do you think you’ll return to Austria?” Ewan asked.
Laura gave him a strange shrug. Her eyes looked clouded. “Perhaps Marta told you. Weeks ago, I was involved with a man from the village. I thought perhaps I had fallen in love with him, as ridiculous as that sounds.”
