Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
B efore Ewart said another word, a young man approached the booth. “You there,” he said and swayed a little to the left. “I’ll have one of those…no, maybe a cinnamon roll. Oh, I can’t decide.”
Ewart smiled at him, noting the two women from earlier starting to drift away. Good. He didn’t want to have to chase them off. “The tarts are quite good. Right, Abbey?”
She nodded but said nothing.
“What will it be?” Ewart asked the young man. “Perhaps you’d like a piece of pie?”
The man studied the pastries. “I’ll take one of the cinnamon rolls, please.”
He pulled a few chips from his pocket and went to drop them into the tin cup—but nearly missed. Either he’d had too much cider…or something stronger.
Abbey quickly placed a cinnamon roll on a napkin and handed it over.
“Thank you, miss,” the man said, blinking at her. “Oh my, that’s a lovely gown.” Then he staggered off.
Ewart chuckled. “I say, but I think he’s had a bit too much.”
Abbey was about to respond when Adelia approached the booth. “Well,” she said, hands on hips. “What a surprise.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Pettigrew,” Ewart said then smiled at Abbey.
Adelia glanced between them, eyes narrowing. “And where is Mrs. Fraser?”
“We’re manning the booth while she fetches more pastries,” Ewart explained. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
“I am. My three brides are currently dancing with their future husbands. The question is—why aren’t the two of you dancing?”
He chuckled. “As you can see, we’re working.”
Adelia focused on Abbey. “Abigail, what did we discuss?”
Ewart could see Abbey blushing, even in the dim light of the paper lanterns. “It’s all right, Mrs. Pettigrew,” she said. “I’m fine watching the booth for Mrs. Fraser.”
“Well, I’m not,” Adelia huffed, waving them both out. “The two of you should be enjoying yourselves. Be gone now. I’ll take over.”
“But Mrs. Pettigrew,” Abbey said, “Mrs. Fraser left us to tend the booth…”
“And just who does Mrs. Fraser work for?” Adelia reminded her with a pointed look.
Abbey glanced at Ewart, then sighed. “Aye, of course.”
Adelia smiled triumphantly. “Off with you. Go dance. Get something to eat. Have a good time.”
Ewart laughed, taking Abbey’s hand. He exited the booth and guided her down the path. “Well, that was something.”
Abbey rolled her eyes. “This has been a long night.”
“And there’s more to come,” he said in a low voice.
She didn’t answer, and he tried not to be disappointed. She was scared, that was all. He could be patient.
He led her through the garden toward the dance area, where more than half of Adelia’s guests had gathered. He took her hand more firmly as they threaded through the guests. At least she didn’t pull away.
“Ye don’t have to do this,” she said quietly.
“Dance with you?” He smiled at her. “I want to, Abbey. More than you know.” When they reached the edge of the dance area, he turned to face her. Her gaze dropped to the grass.
He reached out and tilted her chin up with his finger. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She swallowed. “I thank ye, but I’ll have ye know I’m no better at dancing now than I was an hour ago.”
“That’s all right,” he said with a chuckle and got them positioned. “I remember your steps.”
She huffed a laugh just as the orchestra began another waltz. Ewart guided her smoothly, his hand at her back. For a moment, she was stiff, uncertain. But she didn’t pull away.
They danced in silence, then Ewart bent to her ear. “I’ve been thinking,” he murmured.
“A dangerous thing, that,” she muttered.
He smiled. “Would you like to know what I’ve been thinking?”
“I don’t know…do I?”
He laughed. “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”
She looked up at him but said nothing.
Ewart barreled on. He needed to tell her a few things. “When I came here, I didn’t expect to stay long. A few months, maybe six or eight months at the most. Just long enough to finish my book.” He looked down at her. “But now I’m thinking of staying longer. As in permanently.”
Her hand tensed in his. “Ewart, don’t…”
“I mean it,” he cut in gently. “I like it here. And I like that you’re part of all this.”
“Yer not thinking like ye should,” she said. “Maybe ye hit yer noggin?”
He bent to her ear. “I’m thinking more clearly than ever.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Ye’d be a fool to aim yer affections at someone like me. Thatiswhat yer saying, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Yes. Does that bother you?”
“I’m a maid,” she hissed. “Yer the son of a baron. Ye’d destroy yer relationship with yer family—risk yer inheritance—and for what?”
“For you ,” he said, stopping the dance. “And I can’t believe that’s what you think.”
“What?”
“That you’re not good enough for me.”
She gasped, tried to step away, but he held her gently in place. “Abbey, I know you’re looking out for me, but I don’t give a fig for titles or society’s blasted expectations.”
“Ewart, please…” she struggled, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“What I care about is how I feel when I’m with you. How your voice is the one I listen for each day. How when you look at me, I feel more myself than I ever have.”
“Stop,” she said, breathless, her eyes misting.
He wasn’t done. “I’d give up every ounce of station and propriety to have a chance with you, Abbey.”
A gasp sounded behind them. They both turned. Rebecca stood several paces away, eyes wide, face pale. “You don’t care?” she shrieked. “About titles? About expectations?” Her brittle laugh cracked across the crowd. She turned her glare on Abbey. “Is that who you…? You mean you’ve been sweet on her all this time?”
Ewart stepped in front of Abbey. “Miss Harrington, now is not the time.”
“No, Ewart!” Rebecca snapped. “I’m going tospeak my mind! You led me on. You made me think…everyone thought…”
“I never made you a promise,” Ewart said calmly. “You made assumptions. I’ve been clear about my intentions, or lack thereof, from the beginning.”
Rebecca’s face flushed red. “You’ll regret this, Ewart Bailey! You’ll regret humiliating me!”
He sighed. “And I suppose I shall have to live with that.”
With a screech of frustration, Rebecca spun on her heel and stormed off, her ruffled skirts swishing through the crowd as she nearly toppled a teacart.
Silence settled over the dance lawn, save for the orchestra continuing in the background. Abbey stood stunned. Her expression unreadable.
Ewart turned to her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to be a part of that.”
She blinked, still watching the spot where Rebecca had stood. “Ye just told everyone that ye don’t care about yer future title.”
“I suppose I did,” he said with a shrug. “Do you think it was foolish?”
Her lips parted as if to answer, but no words came.
Ewart leaned closer. “Abbey…I meant every word.”
Abbey stared at Ewart like he’d just asked her to stand on her head. He really did mean it! She could see it in his eyes—steady, unapologetic. He meant every word.
She tried to say something clever. Or at the very least coherent. But no words came. Not with his hand still holding hers and that look in his eyes. “Ye still shouldn’t have said those things in front of everyone,” she whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs.
He bent closer. “But I needed to.”
“Ye’ve humiliated Miss Harrington.”
“Miss Harrington does a fine job of humiliating herself,” he said dryly.
Abbey glanced around. The guests slowly drifting back to dancing, pretending—quite poorly—that they hadn’t witnessed anything. Some wandered to the refreshment tables, others kept glancing her way. When the whispers started her heart sank. “Ye’ve humiliated yerself, then.”
Ewart’s brow furrowed. “Abbey, I don’t care.”
“Well, I do,” she snapped before she could stop herself. The words came out sharper than intended, and Abbey winced at her tone. Darn her temper. She looked up at him.
He didn’t look angry. Just hurt.
Her throat tightened. “I care what happens to ye,” she said, voice low. “And I care what people say. What this could cost ye.”
Ewart cupped the side of her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb. Good grief, when had she started crying? “It’s not your job to protect me, Abbey.”
She shook her head, pulling her hand from his. “It’s not my job to break ye either.”
“You wouldn’t.”
She didn’t have an answer for that. Not when her heart and head were at such odds. The ache in her chest was full of too many feelings and fears. Not to mention too much hope, and she had no right to carry any of it.
She turned away, desperate for air.
“Abbey,” Ewart said, gently catching her by the arm. “I don’t need a grand ballroom or a title to tell me what matters. I just needyou.”
She closed her eyes. They were the words she’d dreamed of but never dared imagine were for her. Words like that didn’t belong to housemaids who at the end of the day had nothing but aching backs and blistered hands.
Abbey turned to him slowly, blinking against the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ewart. I don’t know what to do with any of this. Ye’ve upended everything I told myself to believe.”
His smile returned, soft and a little crooked. “Then maybe it’s time to believe something new.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek.
She gasped, and so did several of the guests nearby. Her hand flew to her cheek as she locked eyes with him, stunned.
“Come on, Abbey,” Ewart said with a grin. “Let’s get something to eat.” He offered his arm, and she hesitated only a second before taking it. She had to leave the dance area with at least some dignity.
Together, they walked toward the refreshment table, the crowd parting around them, their shocked whispers trailing in their wake.