Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Alate summer breeze drifted through the broken ribs of stone.
The abbey ruins and surrounding grounds were not as full as usual.
Perhaps the gray sky above made people hesitant to trust their time to the outdoors.
Emily had loved the place since her arrival in York.
Something about the old stones gave her comfort.
On days filled with sunlight, they were warm to the touch and felt like a place to begin an adventure.
On a day like today, Saint Mary’s Abbey was somber, quiet, full of wind and old stories.
Despite the particularly gothic-like atmosphere, her pulse beat too quickly for serenity.
So while everyone in her party sat on blankets and discussed the history of the medieval city surrounding them, she grew agitated.
Her parents had arrived two days earlier, full of joy and eager to meet her betrothed once more.
Richard and George had followed shortly after with their wives, Katherine and Susan, turning Jack and Juniper’s cottage into a bustling hive of Sterlings.
She had missed them greatly, and it was wonderful to have them near.
Emily had laughed. She had smiled. She had told herself everything was well.
And mostly, it was. They had all enjoyed meeting Lyness and Roman again, and Lady Hartwell had been gracious toward Emily’s parents and family.
“I think a walk is in order for me,” Jack said, kissing Juniper on the cheek as he rose. “Richard. George. Would you like to see more of the old stones tumbling down around us?”
“An excellent idea.” Richard rose and dusted himself off. As the eldest brother, he would inherit their father’s title. He had undertaken much of the responsibilities of it already. Their father had frequently proclaimed himself too old to learn to be an earl.
His wife, Katherine, tipped her head up and peered at him from beneath her bonnet with a look of caution. “No climbing around on unsteady stones, husband. You are not a boy anymore, and I know you would rather not take up walking with a cane.”
“Oh, but think how dashing I should be.” He winked at his wife. “Twirling a cane whenever I was not leaning upon it.”
George had risen, too. He gave Susan, his wife, an arch look. “No warnings or expressions of care for me, my dear?”
Susan turned a page in the book she was reading.
A Gothic romance she had borrowed from Juniper.
“If you do not have the sense to look after yourself, I suppose you will suffer the consequences of it.” She darted a quick look at him, adorned with a smile.
“I am certain your brothers will look after you, should you need it.”
“Ah, poor George.” Jack clapped their brother on the shoulder. “I recognize the book your wife is reading. She will not put it down. Not until the very end, when they discover the count is really—”
Juniper, Susan, Katherine, and Emily all protested at once, each of them warning him against spoiling the ending, and Juniper threatened him somewhat creatively, though Emily only caught the end of it.
“—back into powdered wigs and brass buttons!”
Everyone went quiet and looked at Jack’s wife, who glared fiercely at him.
Jack raised both hands in surrender, and one of the broadest smiles Emily had ever seen upon his face appeared.
“I retract even the suggestion that I would dare speak the ending of a book while someone is actively enjoying its pages. You have my sincerest apologies, ladies.” He bowed, and the look he gave his wife was full of genuine amusement and a tenderness that made Emily’s heart ache.
As they walked away from the ladies and their father—who had fallen asleep a few moments after stretching out on one of the blankets—Emily’s thoughts prodded at that ache with curiosity. What was wrong with her? Why was she not happy?
All her married siblings, even the sisters who were not present, had close, affectionate relationships with their spouses.
She had not thought they were all so demonstrative as Jack and Juniper, but watching her other brothers tease and laugh with their wives reminded her that such care was expressed in many ways.
And she wanted something like it for herself.
In the nearly two weeks since their betrothal, Lyness had visited her for at least a quarter of an hour every day.
He had sat with her in Juniper’s company, and he had walked with her out of doors, always behaving properly.
Listening to her. Acting much as he had before the trouble at the ball. Like a friend.
“I think I will take a walk with my sketchbook.” She must have spoken too abruptly, because the other women around her went silent and stared at her. She cleared her throat. “If…if no one minds.”
“Of course not, my dear,” her mother said, forehead creased with concern. “I think your brothers have the right idea of it. A little exercise in fresh air is good for us.”
Juniper touched Emily’s wrist, eyes gentle. “Mr. Eastwood and his family will arrive soon. Do not stray too far, or I will have to send him looking for you again.”
The reminder that Juniper had done so before, on the day they rescued the canary, almost made the smile Emily replied with real rather than polite.
But with Lyness running late to their family outing, and the fondness she saw her siblings show their wives, she felt oddly adrift.
Movement would help. She stepped away from the cluster of her family and moved across the grasses toward a low stone wall overgrown with tufts of clover.
Opening her sketchbook, she sat down and leaned against the ruined wall.
Then she focused on the arch before her—cracked, elegant, and still standing despite centuries of neglect.
Sketching always soothed her.
A cluster of voices drifted behind her, familiar ones. It seemed her brothers’ walk had brought them to the other side of the wall where she sat. She meant to ignore them—but Jack’s tone was taut, unusual enough to catch her attention by accident.
“…I should never have left her side,” Jack muttered. “I knew something would go wrong.”
“You could not have known,” George said as their boots crunched against gravel and dirt. “I have had the story from you, Hartwell, and Eastwood. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Richard added. “The real disaster would have been the gossip. At least Eastwood did the honorable thing.”
Emily’s hand paused over her sketchbook. Honorable thing? The graphite in her fingers felt suddenly fragile. She put it down.
George exhaled. “Yes, well…he is saving her reputation. That is more than many men would do.”
Jack’s reply was not as loud this time, but still sharp with self-reproach. “Emily deserves more than a marriage arranged out of necessity. I fear they are both trapped by duty and the Eastwood sense of honor.”
The words struck with the precision of a blade finding an old scar. She had spent her whole life being the daughter who stayed behind—useful, steady, overlooked. Of course this engagement was no different. Of course she had mistaken kindness for affection.
Her heart squeezed painfully. Necessity.
Duty. Honor. Of course, she understood the marriage offer came to protect her and her family.
But Lyness, the day he stood in her brother’s house and told her his reasons for declaring their engagement, had made it sound as though there was more to it.
He had said kind things about her, had said he wished to be a man worthy of her notice.
“I would rather the world believe you were promised to me than watch you be sacrificed to duty alone.”
Yes, she recalled those words perfectly. But what had any of it truly meant? He had not expressed affection for her. Not really. Nor desire, nor that he would have chosen her if there had not been a scandal to contain.
She stood slowly, her breath tight, and slipped farther down the path before her brothers could see her.
The ruined walls seemed to tilt around her as though they—or she—had forgotten how to stand upright.
She tried to swallow past the ache, but it clung stubbornly to her throat, refusing to be reasoned away. She needed to regain her composure.
She reached a shaded cloister walk—only to nearly collide with Roman Eastwood, who rounded the corner with his brow furrowed in thought, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“Lady Emily,” he said, startled. “My apologies—I was being inattentive to the path in front of me.”
“It is quite all right.” Her voice came out too thin. She swallowed. “Has your family all arrived, my lord?”
He blinked at her and nodded. “Lyness is making certain our mother is well settled with the other ladies. I am searching out the gentlemen. Have you seen them?”
“Yes, they are over there.” She waved in the general direction she had heard her brothers’ voices. “But before you find them, my lord, may I ask you something? It is rather important.”
Lord Hartwell gave her a hard stare, likely taken aback by her solemn expression. “Of course.”
She hesitated and had to look away. It was easier to stare at the moss underfoot. “At the ball… When everything happened…you were the one people saw with me.”
“Yes.” The word was crisp and given without hesitation.
“And I believed, once, that you might have considered courting me.” Her cheeks warmed, but she pushed on. “So why did Lyness offer for me? Why not you?”
The baron stiffened. Only slightly, but enough to betray his surprise.
“My lady,” he said, speaking each word slowly and with evident care, “ I thought you knew. I would have offered. That was the plan I devised with your brother. You have, and will always have, my admiration. But Lyness acted before I could.” He sighed.
“I likely should have seen it coming. He tends to shoulder burdens the moment they appear, if he think it will spare me a measure of difficulty.”
Her breath faltered. “Burdens?”