He peered down at her. “I won’t let you fall, Matilda. Nor do I have any secret documents to keep safe from prying eyes today, so the urgency won’t be as great if you do trip or stumble.”
“No, quite right.” She leaned into him slightly, once again in awe of how commanding his mere presence was: his height, his strength, his solidity.
“Your mother first accused me of being dirty,” she continued, after a moment. “I tried to explain, but she would not listen. Then, she accused me of being slovenly and mannerless because I think it is ridiculous to wear gloves at dinner. All those sauces and soups and drinks—it is a recipe for staining. I was intending to put the gloves back on when you entered, but she would not believe that either. She said I was unwelcome, she said she wished you had not married me, and she threatened to throw me out. I might have missed a few more, but that is the gist of her dislike.”
He exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry she said those things.”
“Well,Iam sorry that I left you in the middle of our dance at our engagement party,” she said, surprised by the confession. “I think that is where your mother’s disdain for me originated, and I cannot say I blame her. It was petty and childish of me. I should not have done it.”
His arm tightened, pulling her a touch closer. “I forgave you long ago. You were in a difficult predicament. You’restillin one, but you’re bearing it like a soldier.” He paused. “I applaud you for that.”
Heat flushed across Matilda’s face, burning down her neck like wildfire, before pooling in her stomach. Yet, it did not scorch the butterflies that flapped rampantly in her belly; rather, it appeared to encourage them, sending them into a frenzy that made her wish she had eaten some breakfast.
He is sincere.That surprised her more than anything.He means that compliment, and from him, it is high praise indeed.He had lived his life among courageous soldiers, after all.
“She won’t be coming back until she apologizes,” he continued. “Those are the terms, and shehatesto apologize, so you should have some freedom for a while. I’ll be the one who isn’t forgiven. You’d think the Dowager House was the Tower of London, but it’s a large house with beautiful gardens and everything decorated to her taste. In truth, I’ve always preferred it to Whitecliff Manor.”
Matilda frowned. “Why is that?”
“It’s… more comfortable,” was all he said, sounding not very comfortable at all.
There was something he was not saying—many things, perhaps—and though she knew she could demand brutal honesty as part of her three rules, she decided against it. Whatever was causing his brow to furrow and his eyes to dim, it seemed private and painful, and they did not know one another well enough to start crossing into more intimate territory.
Suddenly, he took hold of her hand and slowly removed the kid gloves she had deigned to wear, though they did not at all complement the rest of her attire. She held her breath as he peeled the glove away, finger by finger, and stowed the accessory away in his pocket. That done, he gently traced his fingertips across her bare skin as he had done when she fled from dinner.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, her lungs on fire.
He smiled and met her eyes. “Checking for ink.” He withdrew his touch. “I’m pleased to see they’re still stained.”
“Pleased?” she choked, a pleasant shiver running up her arm, crackling in her chest.
He nodded. “It means that, whatever it is you’re writing in that secret dossier, you’re dedicated to it. If I don’t see ink there, I might begin to worry you’ve become idle.” He looked casually ahead at the path, as if his beautiful, dark blue eyes had not just stolen the breath from her lungs. “Did you favor the summer house in the end? I didn’t want to intrude.”
“I have yet to assess its suitability,” she admitted. “The housekeeper came to inform me that it had been prepared, but I was already buried within my writing and did not have the motivation to move everything elsewhere. However, Iwillsee it today, I promise.”
He cleared his throat. “There’s no obligation, Matilda. Visit the summer house when the mood takes you, or don’t. It’s there for your use either way. The entire manor is, now.”
Invisible hands cupped her heart and squeezed, and for a horrifying moment, she thought she might shed a tear. His words were a veiled olive branch, extended as and when she was ready to receive it. Evidently, he knew, to some degree, how much she was struggling to be away from her home and her friends, and he was trying to make her feel more welcome.
She appreciated it more than she knew how to put it into words—and so, she did not try to. She let his olive branch linger there in the air between them as they pressed on through the trees, her arm through his while the birds finally struck up the full measure of their dawn chorus, and the world came alive around them.
Besides, they still had a swimming lesson to get through.Thatwould be the true test of whether or not peace could ever exist between them.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“It’s like you’re deliberately doing the opposite of what I tell you!” Albion grumbled, watching in abject frustration as Matilda’s legs sank for the hundredth time.
“You told me to arch my back!” she retorted, trying again with the same result.
“Arch your backupwards,” he sighed.
“Why did you not say that?”
“I did say that!” He could feel the last threads of his patience unraveling. “Why would I tell you to arch your back downwards? I thought you were the scientific one. Anyone can guess that if you arch your back downwards in the water, you’re going tosinkdownwards.”
They had not even made it beyond the rocky ledge to the left of the cove wherehehad been taught to swim by his brother. It was the perfect spot for beginners as the student could hang onto the ledge with their arms until they had mastered the art of floating the rest of their body. That was the theory, at least, but Matilda simply could not do it—not facing the water, not on her back.
“This would be much easier if you would let me hold you up,” he complained, standing up to his chest in the water at her side.
