Page 42 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

He let out a little chuckle as the ruse continued. “Indeed.”

She looked at him brightly. “And now we both know.”

“I’m sure we’ll never forget.” He gave her a small smile, which she returned.

When he tried to offer the book back, Lizbeth pressed it forward. “You oughta take this with you now. That way you’ll have it back.”

“But you only have a few pages left.”

“Yes, but—”

He held the novel over. “Please. You’re going to need to find out how the story ends.”

Lizbeth took it gently. “How it ends,” she repeated softly. Her eyes lifted to his again. “And when I finish?”

His heart was pounding faster now. Did she know that he’d thought of little but her in the months since they last spoke?

Since the day his heart had wrecked upon a rocky shore?

Only to be rebuilt again. Newer, stronger.

And more able to see what it was that she needed from him.

Patience and sincerity. He’d meant to give her both the first time, but instead had produced only confusion and dismay.

“My address should be inside.” He’d just added it with a sleight of hand.

Her brow furrowed.

“Better yet, you can hold on to the book until I return to New River.”

“You’ll be comin’ back?” She was clutching the sampler now. As though holding on to the familiar made it easier to make sense of the new.

William shifted his shoes, nearly bumping her own. “I have business with Mr. Jorgensen. In two weeks’ time.”

Lizbeth gently fingered a delicate thread. “About the mine.”

“Yes.” And on that subject he owed her an explanation. “What West said... I want to assure you that your father’s land is in no danger from me. If you’ll give me the chance, I can make sure both you and your father know that without a shadow of a doubt.”

She drew in a slow breath. How he wished to know what she was thinking.

“I just need a little bit of time.” He braced his hand to the seat between them. Not so different from the church pew. Especially with them nearly as close.

“West wasn’t honest,” she said.

“No, he wasn’t. He was misinformed, at the very least.”

“I was too quick to believe him. I see him differently now.” She touched his sleeve. “For that I apologize. I’m so very sorry, William.”

He couldn’t help but look at her face now. “No need to be.”

“I am all the same, if you’ll forgive me for what I said.” Her eyes searched his own. “I’ve regretted it since.”

Dawn broke inside him but he had to fight it back lest he rise and reach for her. “Of course. If you’ll forgive me in return.”

“I don’t know what there is to forgive. You spoke honestly when West didn’t. You had conviction, when I was instead blinded.”

He shook his head, longing to stem her worries. And quite frankly, overwhelmed with the grace of this moment. It was all that he could have hoped for and more. “May I ask what’s changed? Concerning Westgard?”

A speckled bird landed on the windowsill behind them.

Peering back over her shoulder, she admired it.

“I realized that I’d taken the word of someone I scarcely knew who used charm to mask other traits.

He still writes now and again to Lacey, which worries me as, more than once, I saw her slip a few pennies into an envelope before mailing it back. ”

William didn’t like the sound of it. “You do right to mind the situation. I regret summoning the man to New River in the first place.”

“I will.”

“And if there’s any way I can be of service to your family, please let me know.”

Her eyes widened.

“Business takes me a few counties over from here next. I travel again by rail in the morning.”

“Aboard the Pemberley?”

He smiled again. A habit around this woman. “No. I travelled coach believe it or not.”

“And lived to tell the tale?”

He chuckled. “As have you. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your own travels.”

“I have.” She acknowledged the alcove with its watercolor paintings and floral curtains. “These are memories I won’t soon forget.”

He hoped not. His gaze landed on the unfinished embroidery she held. “Is this one of them?”

“Yes.” She tilted the wooden hoop to the light. “I’m going to show it to a shop owner tomorrow. I only need to finish a few more stitches in one of the words.”

“You’re going to sell it?”

Her nod was delayed as though she regretted her disclosure. “A small way to help Pa with the farm. There’s a shop across the street from the depot that I’m going to check in at.”

A pang hit his chest. Made worse knowing that he could prevent the effort she was going through by a simple snap of his billfold, and yet at the same time, he wasn’t at liberty to.

Not if it cost her pa his pride and appeared as though he were trying to buy her hand.

He could never do that. He longed for her still, but only through sincerity and hard work.

Hard work he was ready for.

Taking the sampler gently, he read, “The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of—” His gaze, downcast, searched the threads and the theology laced within them.

Linen still in his grip, he smoothed his thumb against the delicate fibers.

Did it show? The effect these words had on him?

The effect that this woman had on him? The blessed sight of her tiny stitches and the hours, days, and likely months she would have spent with this in her care.

He longed to touch the ornate lines but not at risk of marring her handiwork.

He imagined Lady Light. He imagined the stern face of Aunt Catherine looking down upon him. And he was ready for something to change. The ornate loops and curls of the letters in hand struck another pang to his heart. Such time. Such dedication. “This is beautiful.”

A pink tinge brightened her cheeks and he fingered the loose threads at the back of the linen. “Are these to be discarded?”

“Yes, I still need to trim them away.”

He admired the soft gold and robin’s-egg blue. Summer in a whisper, if the colors could talk. The same shades as the skirt she wore, all warm and bright. “Might I have a few strands?”

She arched an eyebrow.

“You’ve inspired me about something. For my racehorse.”

From a cloth bag at her feet, she retrieved a small set of shears. William held the embroidery in its hoop steady while she snipped two loose strands. The tension of their fingertips on the cloth brought balance. A near touching that heated his arms, his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He tucked both threads into his vest pocket.

Not wanting to overstay his time with her, he rose.

“For your train ride home... the best way to enjoy coach is with a cherry cola, if I might recommend one. You won’t regret it.

” He needed to step away. Needed to leave so he didn’t imagine he’d have more times like this with her.

Though, heaven help him, he didn’t want to go.

“It’s been a pleasure seeing you again.”

The slant of her face followed the way his height filled the alcove. “And you also.”

He tapped the novel in her hands. “I hope you enjoy the ending, Lizbeth.”

“And when the time comes, you as well, William.”

Her demeanor was softening with him, and her eyes, once guarded, were clear as day now.

Did she, by any chance, return his feelings from the autumn?

His feelings from every hour since? There would only be one way to find out, but he had to proceed in order.

One thing at a time. He would not rush his desires as he had last time.

The cost had been too great, and this young lady was too precious to him.

He smiled at her for what he hoped wouldn’t be the final time. “I believe I shall.”