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Mr Giles walked into the room, collapsing upon his bed. He gazed up at the ceiling. “At least it will be better than sleeping with the horses.”
Ambrose laughed. “Indeed, Mr Giles. You will have no horse waking you from your slumber tomorrow morning.”
The man laughed as well. Then he sobered abruptly. “I must admit I never imagined that I would be doing this a month ago,” he said in a quiet voice. “A month ago, I still had my Nell and Sarah, and all was as it should be in the world. I never dreamt that I would be making a desperate trip north without them, unable to bear being by myself in our home.”
“Life is unpredictable,” agreed Ambrose, thinking about Delia. “Just when you think you have it all sorted out, something pops up that throws it all into chaos once again.”
Mr Giles glanced at him. “You seem to be getting along with Miss Parker,” he said in a careful voice. “I have noticed that there is a definite connection between the two of you.”
Ambrose’s heart shifted. “She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever encountered.”
“That she is,” said Mr Giles, nodding his head. “A true beauty. And so refined-looking. She carries herself with an unusual grace that is not usually seen in our class.” He paused. “I can see why you are smitten with her.”
“She is very refined, isn’t she?” Ambrose frowned. “It puzzles me. Her accent is so upper-class that it could cut glass. And yet she is as poor as a church mouse.”
“She speaks like the gentry,” agreed Mr Giles. “If it wasn’t for her garb, I would assume she was a proper lady. I could imagine her having tea with the Queen rather more than I could imagine Mr Hawkins doing it.”
“Hawkins is telling a tall story,” said Ambrose in a dry voice. “If he has had tea with the Queen, then I am a prince snatched from my cradle.”
“Agreed,” said Mr Giles. “I have met his type before. But he seems genuine enough besides that.” He paused. “It is Miss Parker who confuses me more than him. Sheisa puzzle, as you say.”
Ambrose stared at him. “Do you think she is not who she claims to be?” His heart thudded as he asked the question. “Because the thought has crossed my mind once or twice.”
Mr Giles sighed. “It is possible. She always seems reluctant to speak about her life, changing the subject quickly. And then there is her accent and refined appearance.” He hesitated. “She could be a runaway. She is travelling alone. And she seems constantly bewildered by things that I would think she would be familiar with.”
Ambrose kept staring at the man, too stunned to speak. Something shifted inside of him. He had been trying to avoid thinking like this about her but what Mr Giles had just said resonated within him strongly. He realised it could be true.
He had heard stories about fine ladies running away from their lives but always dismissed them as fanciful. For what reason would a lady of thetonrun away? They had position and wealth. A life that most people could only dream about. It would be an act of desperation that he couldn’t imagine.
Was Delia a runaway? Was she lying about who she was?
He tried to push the discomfiting thought away again. But it wouldn’t budge. There were glaring things about her that just didn’t add up, as Mr Giles said. Her accent. Her refinement. Her extreme innocence. Shewaslike a fine lady who had suddenly dropped into a world that she didn’t understand and simply wasn’t a part of.
Who was she?
His mouth went dry. If it was true, she wouldn’t last a day on the mean streets of Bradford. She had probably never worked a day in her life. She probably didn’t have a grandmother in the town who would take her in. How was she going to survive?
His heart was thudding hard now. In theory, it was none of his business. But, of course, that was nonsense. She had wormed her way into his life now, in the matter of a few short days. How could he just say farewell to her in Bradford, knowing what could happen to her?
It had been hard enough deciding not to see her in Bradford. But this just added another dimension to it that he had never contemplated.
He took a deep breath. It mightn’t be true. Delia might not be a runaway and not misrepresenting herself at all. This was all conjecture. Desperately, he clung to that thought.
“Are you going to see her in Bradford?” asked Mr Giles in a quiet voice, as if he had read his mind. “Are you serious about her?”
“I do not think so,” said Ambrose, feeling ashamed. “She may expect more from me than I am capable of giving. She is a deeply romantic woman, Mr Giles.”
Mr Giles gazed at him levelly. “What is that you are not capable of giving, Mr Hartfield?”
“I have told you before,” said Ambrose quickly. “Marriage is not on the agenda for me.”
Mr Giles was silent for a moment. “You truly have never contemplated the possibility of falling in love with a woman?”
Ambrose shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t really believe in it,” he said. “I know that many people claim it is true, but I have never had an inkling of it. I think it is just intense desire. And desire always passes.”
Mr Giles sat up, staring at him solemnly. “Love is real, Mr Hartfield. Desire is a part of it, to be certain, but it is far more than that. And it is one of the most transformative experiences in this life.” He hesitated. “I find it sad that you would close yourself off to the possibility of it. It is an honour to spend your life beside the one you love.”
“Perhaps for some people it is,” said Ambrose in a cautious voice. “But I believe it would be like an albatross on my shoulder.” He paused. “If I ever marry, which I am not certain I will, it will be for pragmatic reasons. I do not want to be in love with the woman. A practical arrangement for all concerned.”
