Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next few days drifted by in a blur of self-pity. Somewhere in the back of Myfanwy’s disheartened mind, she understood that Samuel wasn’t to blame for Jennifer and Sir Bramble’s elopement. In fact, no one was to blame.

In the sanctuary of her bedroom, she chided herself for not being as elated for her friend as she should be. Looking back, Myfanwy had had a front-row seat to the burgeoning relationship. Jennifer hadn’t hidden it from her—she’d even tried to tell Myfanwy about her feelings for the baron from time to time, but Myfanwy hadn’t wanted to listen. If anyone was at fault, it was her.

For not trusting her friend to know what was best for her. For holding Jennifer back. For being terribly selfish and myopic.

One would think coming to terms with that realization would have helped matters, but it only made Myfanwy condemn herself more.

So, she continued to hide in her room, only leaving when she was sure she wouldn’t bump into anyone and be forced to speak, or when she heard a messenger come to the door, hoping it was news from Jennifer. She still held out hope a letter might come saying Jennifer still wanted to play the match on Saturday, despite her marital status.

But it wasn’t only embarrassment that kept her secluded—it was shame.

For his part, Samuel gave her space. He only attempted to rouse her once, the day after their fight in the tavern. When she refused to open the door, he left her to it, telling her through the thick wood that he would be there to speak when she was ready.

Ready. Everything in her childhood had been done in an effort to make her ready to become the woman she would be. She couldn’t help but think that she’d failed.

And so it went.

One early morning, Myfanwy lifted her head from her pillow, hearing a light, tentative knock on the door. Cautious was not a word she would ever use to describe Samuel, so she felt safe pulling herself off the bed to answer it.

Aaron appeared on the other side, his face mottled with concern as Myfanwy attempted to greet him as normally as possible.

“Hello, you,” she said with a little cough. Her voice had been woefully underused of late. She tried again. “And how are you?”

The boy dug his hands in his pockets, idly toeing the bottom of the doorframe. “Oh, I’m fine, Miss Myfanwy. Real fine,” he said, playing his own game of pretend. His restless body and flickering gaze that wandered to everything but her seemed anything but fine.

When the silence lengthened between them, Myfanwy said, “Did you need something, Aaron?”

“Yes, miss,” he replied quickly, taking a deep breath as if thankful for the question. “Um… Well… Sam”—his cheeks blossomed red—“Mr. Everett, that is, wanted me to ask if you’d be ready to leave soon. He said it would be best to get there earlier than the rest of them.”

“I’m sorry, ready?” Myfanwy glanced at the window, finding the pale sun just beginning to make its ascent, its streaks short and wan against her bedroom floor. “Ready for what?”

Aaron’s eyes snapped to hers. “Why, for cricket. It’s Saturday, Miss Myfanwy. Day of the match against the matrons.”

His words struck her like a punch in the gut. Saturday? How had that happened? She could have sworn it was Friday. Had she truly been wallowing for three days? How utterly pathetic!

Myfanwy rubbed at her temple, giving the boy a contrite smile. “I apologize, Aaron. Yes, you’re right. I should have known. Um… Please tell Mr. Everett that I’ll be down within the hour.”

As she went to close the door, Aaron struck his skinny arm out like a whip, stopping it at once. “No, miss,” he said in a panic. “Mr. Everett is downstairs now. He told me you’d already be prepared. He’s going to be mighty upset if he has to wait longer.”

Myfanwy puffed out a short chuckle. Sounded like someone was fighting a case of nerves.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Inform Mr. Everett there’s nothing to be done. I will be down as soon as I can.”

It was more than obvious that Aaron didn’t like that directive one bit. Upsetting Samuel was something the enamored boy couldn’t fathom. He chewed on his cheek, mulling something over in his mind while he continued to stand there.

“You are going to come, aren’t you, miss?” he asked, spitting the words from his mouth like they were gristle. “I mean…since Miss Jennifer hasn’t returned yet…Mr. Everett said there was a chance you might not want to play, and I just…” The tips of his ears matched the color in his cheeks. “It doesn’t seem right being there without you. You’re the reason for all of this…after all.”

It wasn’t lost on Myfanwy what Aaron meant by “all of this.” In a crippling moment, all the shame and remorse she’d felt over the last few days coalesced inside her again, its weight almost forcing her to the floor. But Myfanwy held her ground. She wouldn’t fall with Aaron watching her. She wouldn’t let her guilt chain her to the spectators’ seats anymore.

She’d made a mistake. In her anger, she’d lashed out at Samuel and thrown his love back in his face. But she was still here. She was still standing. And she would fix it.

But she had to get ready for the bloody match first. You couldn’t win if you didn’t play. It was as simple as that.

“Of course I’m coming,” Myfanwy said with a reassuring smile. “And I know it’s distasteful to hear this, but it will take me a moment to gather my things and get dressed. Tell Mr. Everett I will be down when I can.”

Aaron still didn’t appreciate the order—however, he relented, backing away from the door. When he’d taken a few steps, Myfanwy called out to him. “And Aaron?” she said. “Just so you know, it wouldn’t feel right doing it without you either.”

*

Myfanwy was onlyhalfway through her ablutions and wiping water off her face when another knock came at the door. Not as hesitant this time—it was definitely more Samuel’s style.

How in the world was she supposed to get ready when everyone’s impatience kept stopping her? “Please,” she said. “I need more time. I’ll be down soon.”

Myfanwy rolled her eyes when she heard his telltale growl. “You should have been ready by now. Are you truly coming or just wasting my time?” he asked.

That is it!Myfanwy sailed to the door, whipping it open. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue was instantly lost as she regarded Samuel. She hadn’t laid eyes on him in days, and he looked positively sublime in his black jacket and tight, fitted pants. It was an austere outfit and incredibly imposing. A deep longing for him to hold her spasmed in her chest.

Samuel was not having the same tongue-tied issue as her. His eyes narrowed dangerously on her dressing gown. “You haven’t even changed yet?” he thundered.

Myfanwy crossed her arms defensively. “I just woke up!” she roared back. “If you’d stop interrupting me, I can finish getting ready!” Caustically, she flicked her head toward the window. “It’s barely morning, Samuel. Why did you think I’d be dressed at this hour?”

He straightened away as if her question had slapped him. “I am. Aaron is. You have a match today, if you remember.”

“In the afternoon!”

Samuel sniffed. “A good player is prepared. I thought that would be you. Unless…” He cast her a furtive look from under his lashes. “Unless you weren’t planning on joining us?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Myfanwy cried, dropping her hands to her sides with a demonstrative thump. “Of course I’m going. How could you think I would miss it? Do you really have such a low opinion of me?”

Samuel widened his stance, bracing himself. The man was prepared for an argument. Myfanwy wondered if he was harassing her at this ungodly hour only as a way to get her to open up and fight back. Anything was better than constant avoidance, and Myfanwy had been miserably avoiding everyone.

“After the last time you deigned to speak to me, I thought it was you that had the low opinion of me.”

Samuel’s words dropped like a cannonball. He was hurt. She had hurt him. Samuel played the aloof, apathetic man with a heart of stone well, but he couldn’t fool her. There was pain behind his eyes, tension in his shoulders. She could sense the battle raging within him. He wanted to take her in his arms too, but he was holding himself back.

“I’m sorry,” Myfanwy said softly. “I was wrong to speak to you that way. You did nothing wrong.”

Samuel appeared to thaw incrementally in front her. “I shouldn’t have meddled,” he said, sliding a hand though his hair. “You asked me not to help them exchange letters, and I should have respected your feelings.”

“No,” Myfanwy replied, placing a hand over his heart. He was standing too close to her, and not touching him just felt wrong. Without pause, he put his hand over hers, covering it, making sure it didn’t leave. “You were right to help them. They love each other. You saw that. Perhaps you understand love better than I do.”

“I’m not so sure,” Samuel said quietly. He began to caress her wrist, making little circles with his thumb that caused Myfanwy to almost lose her balance. “I… I…”

Myfanwy leaned in, almost willing the words to come out of him. A twinkle of gold caught her attention, and her attention veered to the pocket watch that was half lodged inside the front pocket of his waistcoat. Samuel followed her eye line.

Staring at the piece, he inflated his lungs, painting a calmer expression on his face. “We can discuss it later. Now isn’t the time.”

“Oh.” Myfanwy couldn’t hide her disappointment. She’d hoped he would tell her that he loved her again. Would he ever?

“We do need to hurry,” he said, dropping his hand from hers. “I know you think it’s too early, but I want to walk the pitch, check for divots and water. We need to account for all the advantages we can.”

He said the last with something resembling a smile. Myfanwy tried to mirror it, but hers felt forced. There was still so much she needed to say to him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and tell him that the family they had built over the past month was more than she’d ever hoped for. That living without him seemed untenable, and she’d been so upset that day not only over losing Jennifer—she was terrified of losing him. The idea of him moving on and playing cricket once more in some faraway county made Myfanwy want to cry until there were no tears left. So, in some sort of defense for her heart, she’d pushed him away, leaving him before he could leave her. It was silly and childish and hopelessly dramatic, but she hadn’t been able to control her hurt.

At the end of the day, cricket might very well be a game about control, a game for the sophisticated man, with all its rules. But love wasn’t a game. Love was messy and dizzying and surprising. And it was made for men and women, with all their foibles and complications.

And since true love never ended, there were no winners or losers. No givers or takers. Just two people equally invested in the happiness of the other.

Perhaps…Myfanwy did understand love after all.

And then and there, in the doorway of her bedroom, she made a second vow to herself. That she would spend the rest of her life showing Samuel that she understood love and would leave no doubt in his mind that she loved him.

She wouldn’t lock herself away in despair as his father had, blaming the world for her troubles. She would face them head-on. And she would never stand in the way of his dreams. If Samuel wanted to keep playing cricket, then Myfanwy would find a solution that worked for the both of them. As long as they had each other, everything else would fit into place.

“Why don’t you go?” Myfanwy said suddenly, backing away from him. “I don’t want to cut short your pre-match routine, and I hate to make you wait for me. I’ll follow soon. I promise,” she added when Samuel’s expression grew more concerned. “I need to prepare properly to win this match, and I can’t do that with you hurrying me before I even leave the house.”

“I don’t know,” Samuel drawled. “I’d feel better if you were with me…”

Myfanwy stopped in her tracks, headed back to him, and, without a word, rose on her tiptoes and placed an earnest, achingly faithful kiss on his lips. Samuel was stunned at first, not shifting as she lingered, but soon life sparked inside him and he curled his arms around her securely, holding her against him in a crushing embrace. The kiss was slow and sultry, relieving and incredibly intimate, and when Myfanwy eventually ended it, she could see that it had done some work to repair the damage she’d callously created.

“I always feel better when I’m with you,” she replied.

Samuel’s countenance was more relaxed, the inner thoughts plaguing him seemingly subdued. He rubbed his thumb against her lip, fixating on her mouth with a wistful smile. “I was afraid that wasn’t going to happen anymore.”

Myfanwy smiled. “Would you believe me if I told you that there’s so much more to come for you? For us?”

Finally, a true grin widened on his face. “A few months ago? No. But now?” He locked his gaze with hers. “Why not?”