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“I see.”
“My mother had a weak heart, and I watched her wither away for months before she died,” Madalene admitted.
“That must have been hard to see.”
“It was, but I was grateful for that time with her.”
A pained looked came to Lord Hawthorne’s expression. “My father died unexpectedly three years ago. I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
He stiffened at her words.
“What is it?” she prodded.
Barely sparing her a glance, he replied, “Those words seem empty to me. They are what people say when they don’t know what else to say.”
“I agree with you there.”
“You do?”
Madalene smiled at the astonishment in his voice. “Try not to sound so surprised,” she joked.
“My apologies, but we do not usually see eye to eye on things.”
“That may be true, but at least we are conversing without arguing.”
Lord Hawthorne’s lips twitched, but still he did not smile. “That is a start, then.”
“Yes, it is,” Madalene replied.
They came to a stop at the back fence and Lord Hawthorne gestured towards an iron bench situated under some trees.
“Would you care to sit?” he asked.
Madalene sat down, but Lord Hawthorne remained standing. He met her gaze. “How did you meet Miss Hardy?” he asked.
“We met at boarding school.”
“Is my sister acquainted with her?”
“She is,” Madalene confirmed, “but Edith was a year older than us.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Lord Hawthorne asked, “Did you see to the hiring of Miss Hardy yourself?”
“I did.”
“And you trust her to be a good, hardworking young woman?”
Madalene bobbed her head. “Very much so.”
“You mentioned that Miss Hardy’s father owed money to Eddy, but did he owe money to anyone else?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
Lord Hawthorne was silent for a long moment. “It is common for people to hide their true natures from the people around them,” he said. “How well do you think you know Miss Hardy?”
“Edith wasn’t like that. She was quick to laugh and spoke freely.”
