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Chapter 21

“D id you follow me?” asked Angelica.

The gentleman winced and lowered his hands. “I hadn’t intended to…”

But when she met that with a narrowed look, he let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, I did. I will admit to being a lackwit who was hurting after a difficult conversation with his hero, only to be rejected by a lady, and then turned into a jealous fool who thought you might be meeting a beau out in the forest…”

Mr. Knight’s cheeks reddened as his grimace turned inward. “I have no excuses. I was curious and frustrated, and I wanted to know what you were up to. I didn’t mean to poke my nose into your private business—”

“Yes, you did. That is precisely what you meant to do,” she said, gripping the lid so tightly that she felt the carving through her gloves.

Another sigh and Mr. Knight nodded, though a faint smile quirked the edge of his lips. “Always so direct. I like that about you, Miss Callaghan, for you do not allow me to distort the truth, and I am the better for it. I can only say that I am sorry for having discovered your secret, and though I was of a mind to simply sneak away, I couldn’t bear to keep the truth from you.”

Angelica’s stomach sank to her toes, for there was no mistaking the guilt swimming in his eyes. “You read them?”

“Only part of the topmost one.” Shifting in place, he cleared his throat. “Why do you sneak them out into the woods so clandestinely?”

With a scoff, she turned and set the roof firmly atop the cottage. “You may not have been at Stoneleigh very long, Mr. Knight, but I would think the answer is obvious to anyone who has spent more than a day amongst my family. There is no privacy. Even my bedchamber is invaded regularly, and I learned long ago not to keep anything personal there, for it won’t remain a secret long.”

Mr. Knight’s expression fell, his brows knitting together. That alone melted a bit of the ice in Angelica’s heart, but then with a heavy tone he added, “And I just invaded the one place you had to yourself. I do not know if I can express my sorrow adequately, Miss Callaghan. I acted selfishly, and I do hope you can forgive me.”

Angelica’s stomach twisted at the thought of anyone reading her private notes, yet the fellow was so clearly penitent that it was impossible to maintain a cold shoulder. His eyes pleaded with her to forgive, and it wasn’t the affected playact her family employed, instead it came from deep within and rang true. Especially in the face of his having confessed without needing to; had Mr. Knight slipped away without revealing the secret, she would’ve been none the wiser.

“You thought I had a beau?” she asked with a grimace that was pointed inward as much as it was pointed outward. Angelica wasn’t going to consider how her heart fluttered at the thought of his jealousy.

Brushing that aside, she continued, “If you wish to know, I haven’t had one since I was eighteen and was foolish enough to fall for one of my father’s protégés, who was more interested in courting for courting’s sake. Thankfully, I realized my mistake before it became irrevocable, and he went on to marry some other silly girl a few months later; from all accounts, they are miserable, as they were both more enamored with ‘love’ than each other. I do not intend to make that mistake again. I shan’t marry.”

The muscles in Mr. Knight’s jaw tensed at that declaration, and once more, Angelica had to remind her heart of why feeling gleeful at the sight was not a rational thing. It wasn’t as though she loved him. She hardly knew the man. And a spark of interest did not a marriage make.

Turning, Angelica moved to join him on the road, but before she did more than shift her weight, Mr. Knight was at her side, offering his hand to guide her across the uneven ground, though she had managed to get in and out of the brush many times before. Taking his arm (though not as begrudgingly as she pretended), the pair turned toward home.

Mr. Knight cleared his throat. “May I ask you a personal question?”

Angelica couldn’t help but smile at that. “Another? I am shocked!”

“I am inexcusably nosy,” he added, slanting her a smile.

Giving him a considering hum in return, she nodded. “Ask what you wish, Mr. Knight.”

“Why are you so set against marriage?”

Angelica’s brows rose as she glanced at him. “I am not the first to feel so.”

“No,” he agreed with a nod. “But most of those bad opinions can be credited to their parents’ poor marriage or that of their siblings, yet your family all seems happily situated.”

Guinevere appeared in Angelica’s thoughts, her stomach churning. “Not all of them, Mr. Knight, but I agree that my parents have as happy a marriage as one can ask for. It is not matrimony itself that I reject. One marries to secure one’s situation—”

“That is a hard assessment.”

“But true nonetheless,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Plenty marry for logical reasons that do not appeal to me. Without a proper dowry, I cannot hope to entice a gentleman whose standing is superior to my father’s unless I wish to make myself a fashion plate and simper and flirt in a manner that I find distasteful. And even then, I would be unlikely to succeed as I cannot compete with the beauties of the village.”

Mr. Knight scoffed. “I would disagree with that.”

But though her heartbeat stuttered at that, Angelica thought it best to ignore the statement. “Why would I choose to marry for security’s sake when it is not an improvement on my present situation?”

“For love?” he asked, looking at her with a waggle of his brows.

“Ah, yes. The second grand reason people marry,” she murmured with a sigh, her breath spiraling out in a great cloud of vapor. “You will excuse me if I put little stock in that silly sentiment.”

Pulling her to a stop, Mr. Knight stared at her. “You are saying you do not believe in love?”

“I am saying that I do not trust it,” she said. “Love is a selfish thing. My parents fell in love and turned their backs on their families. Love of poetry inspires my father to neglect his duty to his wife and children. Love makes sensible people do foolish things, casting aside their values and good sense to chase after the thing they desire.”

Yet even as she spoke, Angelica’s stomach churned. Despite having seen that again and again, something still felt so wrong about that philosophy. More than merely recognizing the selfishness, an instinct deep inside said she was missing some integral piece.

“I don’t think I am capable of loving a husband,” she concluded.

“I know you love your family,” he said with a challenging raise of his brows.

“That is different—”

“Precisely,” he said, leaning close with a grin. “People say the word ‘love,’ yet it means so many different things, and I fear you have mistaken love for lust. You are right. Love is not selfish. It is stalwart and strong. It is sacrifice and compassion. The truest sort of love, which binds husband and wife together, bears a healthy dose of that desire you disdain, but at its heart is selflessness, compassion, forgiveness, patience, and everything else you exercise daily, Miss Callaghan.”

Angelica stilled, though her breathing and pulse quickened. Mr. Knight stood there, looking into her eyes with an intensity that made the ground at her feet tremble. Or perhaps it was merely her limbs that were shaking. With wide eyes, she stared at him, not certain what to do or say as his words swept through her before settling into her mind and heart.

Standing so close, she felt the whisper of his heat skittering across her cheeks as his eyes caressed her face. And despite Angelica’s best efforts, her dream rose to her thoughts, making her wonder if reality could ever match her fantasy.

With the barest hint of a smile, Mr. Knight stepped back, offering his arm again as he nodded toward the path. Clearing her throat, Angelica felt her body snap back under her control, and she took her place at his side, refusing to consider what had just happened.

Mr. Knight drew in a deep breath. “I owe you another apology for doing the precise thing you said we needed to avoid. I saw you writing letters and leapt to conclusions.”

“Despite my many assurances that they were not letters,” she replied in a monotone.

“Have I mentioned I am a fool?” he asked with a pained smile.

“Not often enough.” But the mirth faded as Angelica added, “However, had I simply told you they were journal entries rather than being secretive, you might’ve ignored your burning curiosity.”

“That doesn’t excuse my behavior, Miss Callaghan.”

Angelica turned her head to stare at the gentleman. For all his faults (of which there were many), Mr. Knight possessed a humble disposition that made her heart burn. His response was so quick. So definitive. Not some overdone demonstration of remorse, but a simple statement of fact. For goodness’ sake, she had just had a disparaging thought about his “many” faults, as though she lacked any flaws or shortcomings.

Yes, he required a little prodding, but Angelica’s ready use of bluntness was a byproduct of living with those who refused to acknowledge reality no matter how much it slapped them on the cheek. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew who would so readily accept guilt. And apologize.

Shaking away that thought, she stared at the branches overhead. Golden afternoon light filtered through the leafless canopy, shining off the pristine snow and giving the area an ethereal glow. The well-trodden path was now barely visible, the edges fading into the blanket of white that covered the forest floor. And though the air was crisp and biting, being snugly tucked beside Mr. Knight lent her some of his warmth as their steps moved in unison down the path.

And though she longed to ignore the question pestering her, Angelica couldn’t fight the impulse that had her asking, “What, precisely did you read, Mr. Knight?”

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