Page 33 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

“Please allow me to repair that. Your comfort matters to me a great deal.” Skin heating, he pulled off his coat and tossed it aside.

Standing there in his shirt and waistcoat, he shoved back the sleeves to his elbows.

“I mean to be of service to your family in the ways that I can. And a service to you in the ways you’d permit me. ”

She recoiled, looking puzzled as she halted in the long grass.

“Lizbeth, I have no intention of claiming your father’s land. One of my reasons for being here today was to explain that to him. To clear the air once and for all.”

“And back there? At the mine office?” She flung a hand toward town. “I was made to look foolish. You don’t understand the time and thought I put into going there. Askin’ what I did. You don’t understand what I was trying to do.”

“I don’t?” Quite the contrary. “I have come to see how much you love this land and those entrusted to your care.”

She shook her head as though to prevent his words from landing.

“The way I behaved at the office was only in protection of you.”

“Protection?”

He’d done it now. William closed the gap that had grown between them.

He longed to reach out and touch her. To touch her hand.

The same fingers that had brushed against his own before.

His very heart had begun to beat for this woman, and this woman alone.

He’d encouraged Callum to hold his tongue when it came to matters of affection.

A recommendation William now regretted. If he could turn back time for his friend’s sake, he would.

Gently, he touched Lizbeth’s wrist. Just barely grazing her delicate skin between his fingertips.

She pulled away.

“I’m struggling to find the words. But I—I mean to explain that I value my time spent with you.”

She squinted at him and he couldn’t tell if she was puzzled or still angry.

William pressed a hand to his chest, and as he did, he spoke the very words his aunt would disown him over.

But he no longer cared. “I’ve come to have a hope for your—your company.

” Lord help him, he’d never said anything like this to a woman before.

“Your companionship even. If I might inquire if—if you could ever want my companionship in return.” He squeezed his eyes closed lest that sound improper.

And he was running out of time to speak vaguely.

“In a righteous sense, that is. A devoted one.” He looked at her again as the puzzle in her brow only deepened.

“Are you... are you...?”

“Am I asking you something?”

Eyes wide, she slowly nodded.

He tugged at the hem of his waistcoat. “I believe I am.” William shoved one of his shirtsleeves farther back. “Never have I encountered a woman who has so enriched my world as you. Who has so made me long to enrich the world of another.”

She stared at him. The sun pooled down on her brown hair, pulled back soft and low.

Here in this field, he imagined her in Vermont, surrounded by horses in the pasture of his estate.

Her hand to the proud, glossy neck of Lady Light and a basket of apples at her feet.

No more mines. No more darkness. No more fears.

He thought of how the sunlight would touch her hair there.

Of how it would touch his life if she were with him.

Would she be the one to wind a garland of acorns around the banister of his all-too-empty mansion? His estate back home had never known such humble offerings, but the marble halls cried out for them as did his soul.

“Please allow me to state that I do not wish to be parted from you. Not now and not ever.”

Lizbeth gaped at him, seeming about to sink to the ground. He reached a hand out to steady her but she moved away.

“You hope for me?” she whispered.

“Indefinitely.” He stepped toward her. Time to face the fact that he would never be the same since knowing her. “And indelibly.”

Her brown eyes, wide now, searched the ground between them. “This can’t be so.” She turned away, muttering something about what Mr. Westgard had warned her about. Finally, Lizbeth spoke to him over her shoulder. “You—you’ve confused me. And you’ve been most arrogant.”

He came around her so she faced him. “For that I must make amends.”

“You’ve belittled me. Yesterday—”

“If I was rude to you at the colliery, I apologize. Your request to go down into the mine caught me by surprise. I—I hadn’t expected to see you and it shocked me.

Your presence.” In truth he’d been unsettled.

More so when he learned she meant to put her life on the line in a pit of miners. All for a crew of animals.

“You hadn’t the right to deny me. You’re not the owner.”

“No, ma’am. But I know the horrors in those tunnels. It’s no place for a lady.”

“I wasn’t afraid.”

Which endeared her to him all the more. “The mules you speak of, they’re poorly kept. They know only the closed-in world underground. They are weary. Disoriented. They’re not as well as your own beloved creatures. Seeing them would dismay you.”

“It’s the very reason I’m tryin’ to find a way to help.”

“Of course. But maybe you’re not the one to help them.”

She winced and he saw the wound his statement inflicted.

He tried to explain. “The drivers do their best, but there are rats in the underground stables. A constant stench with little air coming in or out. You wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

” He moved closer, softening his voice lest his passion startle her.

“That’s after you’ve endured the descent in the cage for hundreds of feet.

A cage that is so dark and narrow, it’s soul-crushing.

” He didn’t even know how to describe it.

“Please know that I denied your request for those reasons alone. Not due to your ability or courage. Neither of those do I doubt.”

How could he? With her peering up at him so? This young woman who was filled with so much strength and dignity that it stirred greater things within him.

“As for yesterday, I meant only to keep you safe and well.” He took another step forward. “Lizbeth. I have given you a poor impression of myself. Please allow me to remedy that.”

A breeze stirred the ribbon that bound her hair. “There’s little you could say to change my mind about anything.”

Was it time to end this agony? “And what is it that you see of me?”

She tipped her chin up. “That you are proud and unfeeling.”

William tugged again at the hem of his waistcoat. Touched the knot of his tie. It felt easier to address these things than the pain she shot through him. “That is how you see me?”

“I was a fool to have believed otherwise.”

Slowly William nodded. “Then I understand.” Now his boots moved away from her own. His hand, which longed to brush her cheek, remained instead at his side.

If he had the chance to dance with her again, he would. If he had the chance to make her smile, he would. He’d do those things again and again until she believed him. More than her belief, though, he needed her trust. The very thing that he’d just lost.

He lowered his head. “I’ll bid you a good day, then. And I do apologize for disheartening you so. It was not my intention.”

With that, William grabbed his coat and forced himself to step away. Away from the woman who brought light to his world in a way no person ever had. Away from the woman who—he was finally able to admit to himself—he loved.