Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Winston stepped out onto the veranda and started muttering curse words under his breath. He couldn’t believe he had let down his guard and shown vulnerability to Mattie. She was undeniably the most beautiful young woman he had ever known, but now he regretted exposing his feelings to her.

For a man that prided himself on staying composed under pressure, he sure had made a muck of things. What if Mattie expected something from him in return? He had no desire to pursue her. He had already laid his heart bare to her and she had trampled on it. No, he would not go down that path again… for any reason.

When he had touched her, his heart reminded him that a part of Mattie still lingered there.

“Botheration!” he muttered in frustration. He needed to regain control of his thoughts and actions before it was too late. This was a game that he couldn’t afford to lose.

The sound of Melody’s amused voice broke through his thoughts. “Is everything all right, Brother?” she asked.

Winston turned to see Melody sitting on a nearby bench, stroking Matilda with gentle motions .

“Everything is fine,” Winston said, keeping his face expressionless.

But Melody didn’t seem convinced. “So it is a common occurrence for you to be muttering under your breath in the gardens?” she asked.

He should have known that Melody would see through that lie. It wasn’t even a good one. “I was just merely thinking things through,” he attempted to explain.

“Anything you’d wish to share?” Melody inquired with a playful smile. “Matilda and I are excellent listeners.”

Winston frowned, not wanting to admit his inner turmoil to anyone, let alone a goat. “I do not understand why everyone indulges that blasted animal,” he grumbled. “Matilda has no right to claim a bench as her own.”

Melody quickly covered Matilda’s ears. “Don’t let her hear you say that,” she joked.

He made his way over to his sister and asked, “May I sit?”

“I don’t know why you are asking me,” Melody teased. “This is Matilda’s bench and she is kindly allowing me to sit here.”

Winston gently moved Matilda aside before taking a seat on the bench. “I hate goats,” he mumbled.

“I know, and cats,” Melody responded. “But you do like sheep.”

“That I do,” Winston said. “Sheep are far more docile than goats, especially Matilda.”

Melody laughed. “Matilda is a special kind of goat.”

In response, Matilda let out a loud bleat, almost as if she understood the conversation they were having.

“Now what has you so troubled?” Melody inquired with genuine concern etched onto her features.

Winston turned away from her, his jaw clenched. “I do not wish to talk about it.”

Melody shrugged. “I must assume it is about our mutual redheaded friend, then. ”

Winston shook his head. “Why must you assume such a thing?” he asked. “There are many things that could be troubling me at this precise moment.”

“Very well,” Melody said. “Forget I asked.”

“I will,” Winston grumbled through gritted teeth.

“Good,” Melody declared with finality.

As they sat in uncomfortable silence, Winston couldn’t help but notice the gentle breeze ruffling through his hair. He glanced back at the manor and wondered how Mattie was faring after the terrible words her father had spoken to her. Did he not see how beguiling his own daughter was?

Melody followed his gaze and suggested, “You could always go inside and speak to her.”

Winston knew precisely who Melody was speaking about, but he didn’t dare reveal that he had been thinking of Mattie this whole time. “Who?”

“You know, the tall, redheaded young woman who can beat you soundly at pall-mall,” Melody stated matter-of-factly.

“I know who Mattie is,” he muttered.

“Do you?” Melody challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because I suspect she is inside the manor, which is why you are out here in the gardens with me and Matilda.”

Winston met his sister’s gaze. “I came to spend time with you.”

“Liar,” Melody retorted, her voice laced with amusement. “For someone who is such a successful barrister, I would think that you could lie better.”

“I don’t lie. I outwit my opponent,” Winston defended.

Melody regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before finally asking, “Can we please skip this game and you just tell me what is truly bothering you?”

Winston had a choice. He could walk away and ignore his sister’s question. Or he could tell her the truth and hope she could provide some additional insight on the matter. Coming to his decision, he shared, “Mattie’s father implied that she would likely marry a man that wants a mature woman, such as a widower.”

“And you disagree because you wish to marry her?” Melody pressed.

He reared back. “Of course not!” he protested. “I have no designs on Mattie.”

Melody’s lips twitched. “My apologies,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I spoke out of turn.”

“You did,” Winston declared. “It baffles me how Lord Wythburn is so oblivious where Mattie is concerned.”

“Does it now?” Melody asked coyly.

Winston looked heavenward. “I don’t know why I try to talk to you,” he said. “You seem to have concocted an entirely false scenario in your head about Mattie and me.”

Melody laughed. “It is fascinating to me that you cannot see what is right in front of you.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling exposed under Melody’s scrutiny. He decided it was best if they changed subjects and steered the conversation away from himself. “I would much rather speak about you.”

“Why?” Melody asked, tilting her head slightly. “I assure you that I am not that interesting.”

“I disagree,” he countered.

Melody glanced down at Matilda, running her hand through the goat’s fur as she spoke. “I suppose I have been reading a lot as of late, resigning myself to the fact that I will inevitably have to get married.”

Winston could hear an undeniable sadness in her voice and it concerned him. “Do you not wish to marry?” he asked gently.

“Oh, I do,” Melody rushed to respond. “But when I do get married, I will have to give up a part of myself.”

“Not if you find the right one,” Winston argued.

Melody offered him a weak smile. “It is not that simple, I’m afraid,” she said with a hint of resignation in her voice. “What I do, how I occupy my time, will fall under scrutiny.”

Winston lifted his brow. “Now I am curious as what you do to occupy your time.”

“The usual pursuits, I suppose,” Melody remarked dismissively. The way she spoke her words made him think there was so much more to it. It caused Winston to wonder what she was truly passionate about. But was it fair of him to press her when she clearly did not want to talk about such things?

Their conversation was interrupted by a footman coming to a stop in front of them and bowing. “My lord, your father wishes to speak to you in his study,” he announced.

Winston tipped his head in acknowledgement before he stood up. “I shouldn’t keep Father waiting.”

Melody placed a hand on her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Will you promise me one thing?”

“Depends on what it is,” Winston replied cautiously.

“There are cracks in everything, but you mustn’t let it distract you from the beauty of it all,” Melody remarked. “But I want you to promise me that you will chase after the happiness that you truly deserve.”

Winston didn’t deserve to be happy, but he didn’t want to tell his sister that. She wouldn’t understand what he had been through, what he had done. No, he couldn’t burden her with his troubles. “All I can promise is that I will try… for now,” he said.

“Very well,” Melody responded, lowering her hand. “It is time for me to return to the library. I have a book waiting for me.”

“Anything of note?” he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Melody gently moved Matilda from her lap before she rose. “Not particularly,” she replied. “It is just one of the many Russian novels I have been reading.”

Winston’s brows knitted. “You speak Russian?”

“It is just one of the many things you do not know about me, Brother,” Melody said playfully.

As they walked towards the manor, Winston couldn’t seem to let the matter drop. “Russian? Truly?” he asked incredulously.

“Elodie speaks a little Russian as well,” Melody revealed. “Perhaps if you came out of your room more often you would have learned that about us.”

“Does Father know?”

Melody shook her head. “Good heavens, no!” she exclaimed. “He would lecture us about how it isn’t proper to know such an uncouth language.”

“It is not an uncouth language,” Winston said.

“Not according to Father,” Melody pointed out.

A footman opened the door and they stepped inside. Once they reached the study, Winston said, “Enjoy reading.”

“I always do,” Melody replied before she continued down the corridor.

Winston stepped into the study and saw his father was hunched over his desk, reviewing a ledger. “You wished to see me, Father?”

His father looked up and adjusted the spectacles on his nose. “Yes, do come in,” he encouraged, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. “I spoke to Mr. Halverson about Isaac.”

Now his father had his attention. “What did he say?” he asked, walking closer to the desk.

“Isaac is indeed one of our tenants,” his father began, tapping a finger on the open page of the ledger, “and it is within our rights to evict him.”

“How did he manage such a feat?”

His father leaned back in his seat, his expression grim. “Isaac approached Mr. Halverson about renting the Stewarts’ old cottage and he drew up a contract. It was all aboveboard,” he replied. He paused and let out a heavy sigh. “Which is why Mr. Halverson does not recommend evicting Isaac just yet, citing the same issues that I had brought up previously.”

Winston felt frustration whirling within him. “So that’s it?” he asked, clenching his fists at his sides. “We just sit back and let Isaac remain underfoot.”

“It is only a matter of time until Isaac gives up and goes home,” his father replied calmly.

“But he is harassing Miss Bawden,” Winston shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

His father removed his spectacles off his nose and looked at Winston with a steely gaze. “Isaac is making a nuisance of himself, but that is all he is. A nuisance. He holds no power over us. It is a game that he will lose, especially since I have no intention of handing my sister or her son over to him.”

Winston’s frustration turned to worry as he paced back and forth in front of the desk. “And what if he gets desperate?” he asked, his voice strained.

“What is Isaac going to do?” his father asked, his voice laced with confidence. “He can’t get to us, not with all of our servants here, and you have a Bow Street Runner watching over Miss Bawden and her family.”

Despite his father’s reassurances, Winston couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease that had settled deep within him. Something about Isaac’s relentless pursuit of Miss Bawden unnerved him, and as a barrister, he knew all too well the lengths people would go for wealth and power.

“It will be all right, Son,” his father said.

Winston stopped pacing and turned to face his father. “I do not share the same confidences as you do.”

With that, Winston left the study, determined to do whatever it would take to keep Mattie safe from Isaac. But at that precise moment, he was unsure of what exactly that would entail.

Mattie sat in the drawing room as she listened to Lady Dallington’s words of comfort. She knew her ladyship meant well, but her thoughts kept drifting towards her last conversation with Winston. He had called her beautiful, which was something no one else had ever said to her before.

And she had believed him.

Good heavens, what was she thinking? She couldn’t be fooled by him again. He was the one who had kissed her and then treated her with only contempt afterwards. It was evident that he had regretted their kiss.

But she hadn’t.

Interrupting her thoughts, Lady Dallington’s gentle voice brought her back to the present. “Are you even listening to me, Dear?” she asked.

Mattie lowered the teacup and saucer to her lap. “I apologize but I was woolgathering.”

Lady Dallington gave her a small smile. “A terrible habit for a lady of genteel breeding, but I do understand given your circumstances. I was simply suggesting that I could always speak to your father on your behalf.”

Mattie shook her head firmly. “No, my father is stubborn and I doubt he would appreciate me seeking your help.”

With compassion in her eyes, Lady Dallington replied, “Your father is a good man, but perhaps he is just overwhelmed with his responsibilities.”

“But he is jeopardizing my future,” Mattie stated with frustration.

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Lady Dallington argued. “And as for you marrying an older man, that is rubbish. One and twenty years is hardly considered a spinster.”

Mattie leaned forward and placed her cup onto the table. “ What am I to do?” she asked. “I cannot bear the thought of waiting another Season to make my debut.”

“Would it be so awful if you waited?” Lady Dallington questioned.

Frowning, Mattie asked, “You are siding with my father?”

Lady Dallington quickly waved her hand in front of her. “Goodness, no. I am just merely attempting to play devil’s advocate.”

“I just feel so alone at home,” Mattie admitted. “My father has always been far too busy to even notice me, and as for Emma…” She struggled to find the right words. “Emma is just Emma.”

“There is no need to explain yourself,” Lady Dallington reassured her. “But I hope you can find solace here with us.”

Mattie nodded. “I do, which is why I come so often.”

“And you are always welcome,” Lady Dallington said kindly. “You are family to us, and as much a part of Brockhall Manor as anyone else.”

“Thank you,” Mattie murmured, touched by the genuine warmth and acceptance of Lady Dallington.

Just then, Melody entered the room with a bright smile. “Mattie, what a pleasant surprise,” she greeted, taking a seat next to her mother on the settee. “What brings you by today?”

Mattie let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “My father is refusing to let your mother host me for this Season. He wants me at home so I can tend to Emma,” she explained, her tone heavy with disappointment.

“That seems like an utter waste of time to me,” Melody remarked. “After all, isn’t Emma nearly seven and ten years old now?”

“She is,” Mattie confirmed. “Her birthday is next month.”

Melody reached for the teapot and poured herself a cup of tea. “You could always hand Emma a mirror and she wouldn’t even notice you were gone,” she joked.

Lady Dallington gave her daughter a reproachful look. “Melody, that was not very kind of you to say.”

But Melody shrugged it off. “I was merely speaking the truth,” she said, sipping her tea.

Mattie chimed in, “Melody isn’t wrong.”

Lady Dallington shook her head disapprovingly at both of them. “Regardless, we do not speak ill of others.”

Melody smirked. “Very well, but I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t disagree with me either, Mother.”

“Emma is young and we need to show her compassion,” Lady Dallington said. “Can we discuss something else now?”

A sly grin came to Melody’s face. “I had a thought. What if we smuggled Mattie in our trunks when we travel to Town for the Season? No one would be the wiser.”

Mattie laughed. “That plan is positively ingenious!”

Lady Dallington looked heavenward, but her words were light. “Why do my children insist on coming up with ludicrous ideas?”

“It is far easier than thinking up something practical,” Melody quipped.

“Lord Wythburn is a rational man, and I have no doubt that he will come around to our way of thinking soon enough,” Lady Dallington said.

Mattie did not share the same hopeful outlook as Lady Dallington. “I do not think that is the case.”

Lady Dallington’s smile only seemed to widen at Mattie’s skepticism. “Oh, ye of little faith,” she said. “What if Winston speaks to your father? If anyone can convince him to give you a Season, it is him.”

Melody nodded in agreement. “Winston is relentless when it comes to debating. He will surely persuade your father.”

Mattie bit her lower lip. “Do you think Winston will agree to such a thing?”

“You leave Winston to me,” Lady Dallington responded, amusement in her voice. “Who do you think taught Winston the art of debate?”

A deep chuckle came from the doorway, causing Mattie to turn her head. She knew immediately who it belonged to—Winston. His laugh was so familiar to her.

Winston walked further into the room. “I would be happy to speak to Lord Wythburn.” He turned to face her, his gaze piercing. “Assuming Miss Bawden is in agreement.”

Mattie hesitated, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, she wanted Winston’s help in convincing her father to let her have a Season this year rather than wait. But on the other hand, she feared that her stubborn father might buckle down even more.

But, then again, what did she have to lose?

Taking a deep breath, she found the courage to speak. “Yes, I would like you to speak to my father.”

“Then it is settled,” Winston said.

Mattie had a thought. “Perhaps,” she started slowly, “you could join my family for dinner and speak to my father afterwards over a glass of port.”

Winston considered her proposal before nodding once more. “Shall we do so tonight?”

Rising, Mattie replied, “Yes, that would work nicely. I should go and inform our cook at once.”

Winston put his hand up. “Wait,” he urged. “Allow me to call a carriage for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I do not mind walking,” Mattie responded.

“I insist,” Winston said firmly.

Mattie cocked her head. “I do not understand your insistence, my lord, considering I walked here earlier.”

Winston’s expression grew solemn. “I have decided it would be best for you to err on the side of caution, especially with Isaac lurking about.”

“But Grady is already ensuring my safety,” Mattie argued.

“This is not up for debate,” Winston declared.

Mattie’s brow shot up. “I beg your pardon?” she asked. “You are not my keeper, my lord.”

In a soft voice, Lady Dallington whispered, “Oh, dear.”

Winston took a step towards her. “No, I am not your keeper, Miss Bawden. But I have made it my duty to keep you safe, and if that means you are inconvenienced for a short time, then so be it.”

Despite her annoyance at being told what to do by him, a small part of Mattie appreciated his concern for her wellbeing. However, a much larger part of her resented being ordered around.

Turning to face Lady Dallington and Melody, Mattie forced her voice to remain calm. “Thank you both for the lovely chat,” she said, curtsying before them. “But I must take my leave before I lose control of my sharp tongue.”

Mattie shifted her gaze to Winston and continued, “Thank you for your concern, but I believe I shall walk home now.”

“Miss Bawden…” Winston started.

Not wanting to hear whatever excuse or argument he had prepared, Mattie headed towards the entry hall. Just as she was about to walk out the door, Winston gently grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.

His eyes were sparking with fury. “Did you not hear me, Mattie?” he asked. “It is not safe for you to be wandering around these fields by yourself.”

Mattie stood her ground, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I am not ‘by myself.’ Grady is watching over me,” she argued, her voice laced with defiance.

“That isn’t enough!” Winston shouted, dropping his arm to his side. “Not any longer. Isaac is playing a game and is dangerous.” He turned towards the butler. “Bring a coach around for Miss Bawden, at once.”

White tipped his head in understanding before promptly departing from the entry hall .

Mattie placed a hand on her hip as she tried to keep her voice steady. “I am not yours to control,” she said. “If I wish to walk home, then so be it.”

“Why are you being so obstinate about this?” Winston demanded, his voice rising in exasperation.

“Perhaps it has something to do with you telling me what to do,” Mattie countered. “You have no right to dictate my actions.”

Winston took a step closer to her, causing her to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “I am only trying to keep you safe,” he explained.

Mattie huffed. “By ordering me about?” she retorted.

“That was not my intention,” Winston assured her. “I simply cannot bear the thought of you getting hurt, especially through no fault of your own.”

Some of the fight drained out of Mattie as she listened to Winston’s heartfelt words. But that still didn’t excuse his behavior. She was so tired of people deciding what was best for her. Her father did it. And now Winston.

“You could have at least talked to me about it first,” Mattie said.

Winston bobbed his head in agreement. “You are right,” he admitted. “I was wrong to act so brashly, and I apologize.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mattie’s lips. “Is this the first time you have ever apologized to me?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him.

“Do not make this into a big deal, I beg of you,” Winston pleaded, his dark brows furrowing in mock irritation.

“Oh, but I think it is a rather significant moment,” Mattie said, her smile widening. “I have been waiting for an apology from you since you knocked me into the river all those years ago.”

Winston looked heavenward. “That was nearly ten years ago. You really need to let that go.”

Mattie couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “ I should go home and write about this in my journal,” she said. “My posterity deserves to know about this exact moment.”

“You are rather impossible to be friends with,” Winston muttered, but there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

White appeared once again in the entry hall and announced, “The coach is ready and waiting outside, my lord.”

“Thank you,” Winston acknowledged before turning back to Mattie with a faint smile on his face. “May I escort you to the coach?”

Mattie accepted his proffered arm. “This seems so unnecessary,” she said. “My cottage is only a short distance away.”

“Yes, but it will ease my conscience greatly,” Winston responded as he led her towards the waiting coach. “I shall see you tonight for dinner.”

With a glance at Brockhall Manor, Mattie remarked, “I should warn you that dinner is not as extravagant an affair at my cottage as it is here.”

“I assure you that our dinners can get quite lawless when we don’t have any guests,” Winston said. “Elodie has been known to throw rolls at us.”

Mattie giggled. “That does not surprise me in the least.”

Winston assisted her into the coach. “Good day, Mattie,” he said before stepping back. “I shall see you soon.”

The coach rolled forward, and Mattie realized that she was still smiling.