Page 16 of Yours Always (The Enduring Hearts #1)

Edenfield - London, England

The late Spring breeze stirred the tall grass along the riding trail, brushing soft fingers through budding wildflowers and sending cotton tufts drifting lazily across the fields behind Edenfield.

Matthew tightened the reins in his gloved hands guiding Gideon along the path.

Benjamin and Sarah galloped ahead with reckless ease laughing, entirely unbothered by the world behind them.

She was different here than she was with the Duke.

She seemed smaller somehow whenever he entered the room.

Matthew wasn’t sure she even noticed it, but he did.

Over the past week, he’d watched it happen again and again; her voice softening, her words shifting, her hands going still the moment she took The Duke’s arm.

But through it all, she smiled a careful, practiced smile.

It was never for him, it was always meant for the Duke.

Grace’s laughter pulled Matthew from his thoughts as she urged her horse past him.

“Come along, Mr. Fenwick!” she called over her shoulder, casting him a grin.

“If you ride much slower, you’ll start going backwards.

” Matthew nudged Gideon into a canter, catching up easily.

Grace slowed once he reached her side, her eyes locked on his, the look far too knowing.

They rode in companionable silence for a time, the sun warm at their backs, the air thick with the scent of crushed grass, wild thyme, and chimney smoke drifting faintly from the kitchen hearth.

Edenfield disappeared behind them, shrinking into memory.

Ahead, the fields stretched wide and wild like freedom, or the illusion of it, depending on how one looked.

At the crest of a low hill, Grace drew her horse to a halt. Below, Benjamin and Sarah had reached a crooked tree at the edge of the wood. Even from a distance, it was clear they were arguing—likely about whether or not one of them should climb it.

Grace brushed a loose strand from her cheek, then turned toward Matthew with a look so direct in its clarity, that he tensed without meaning to.

“You know,” she said lightly, “it’s a curious thing.

For a man who’s always been so quick to act, you’ve grown rather hesitant.

” Matthew gave a dry laugh, eyes on the fields.

“Hesitant? No. Careful, maybe.” Grace tilted her head. “No, Matty. You’re scared.”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. His hands tightened slightly on the reins. “You’re afraid,” she said gently, “that if you tell her how you feel, she’ll choose him anyway.” The words landed too close to the truth.

“And worse,” Grace continued, softer now, “you’re afraid that if she does choose you, that you will be the reason she gives up all he has to offer.

” The Duke. The man with the title, wealth, and the quiet dignity of someone who had nothing to prove.

He was everything Matthew couldn’t give her.

“I can’t be the reason she gives up everything,” he said.

“Not when I have so little to offer her in return.” Grace’s expression softened, but her voice stayed steady. “You have no idea what you offer her.”

Matthew looked away, jaw tight and shoulders set, but Grace nudged her horse a little closer forcing him to meet her eyes.

“You and Sarah have been circling each other for as long as I can remember. You can’t rewrite the truth just because it’s inconvenient.

You don’t get to pretend it isn’t there just because it doesn’t fit. ”

“She is happy with him,” Matthew said, though even he didn’t quite believe it. “Is she?” Grace asked quietly. “Or is she trying to convince herself that she should be?” The breeze lifted again, stirring the tall grass and sending a hush across the field as the question settled between them.

“I love you both,” Grace said. “And I won’t choose sides.

But watching two people who belong to each other destroy themselves out of fear and pride?

” Her voice wavered just slightly. “It’s breaking my heart.

” Matthew scrubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

“You always were the bossy one.” Grace smiled faintly, “Only when I’m right.

” He let out a breath that could have been a laugh, if only he had been able to feel it in his heart.

“You don’t need a grand gesture,” Grace said, her voice gentle but sure.

“No sweeping declarations. No hero on a white horse, like in those novels Mrs. Weston always tried to keep us from sneaking off the shelves…” Matthew chuckled softly as he met Graze’s gaze again, steady, kind and filled with the kind of strength he wished he felt.

“...but you need to tell her the truth,” she said.

“Because whatever you think she deserves, she deserves that.”

She prompted her horse forward, “If you keep waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll miss it.” She turned to call over her shoulder as she rode towards Sarah and Benjamin, still waiting at the bottom of the hill.

Matthew stayed where he was, silent in the saddle, watching the grass ripple like waves under the sun. The wind tugged at his coat, lifting the curls at his collar and carrying her words further than he wanted them to go.

______________________

Later that afternoon, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the gardens at Edenfield.

The air smelled of roses and warm earth, the hush of the day settling over the grounds like a soft blanket.

Sarah sat on a stone bench near the arbor, her sketchbook balanced across her knees.

A faint melody hummed from her lips as her pencil moved across the page, her brow furrowed in quiet concentration.

From beneath an old oak tree, Matthew tried very hard not to look like he was staring at her. He was failing spectacularly.

Benjamin stood beside him, mid-sentence, recounting some outlandish story involving Oliver, a startled vicar, a runaway pig, and an alarming quantity of molasses.

Matthew heard none of it. He nodded absently, eyes fixed on the figure in blue at the edge of the garden.

“Have you heard a single word I said?” Benjamin said dryly.

Matthew blinked, finally turning. “What?” Benjamin only laughed and walked off, shaking his head.

Grace was seated nearby on a blanket, her embroidery laying untouched in her lap for nearly ten minutes, watching him with barely concealed amusement.

Every time Sarah glanced up from her sketch, Matthew panicked—first straightening his jacket, then pretending to examine the tree bark, and at one point bending to fuss with a bootlace that hadn’t needed fixing since he tied it that morning.

He had absolutely no idea how obvious he was.

Grace cleared her throat with a single, theatrical sound loud enough to echo off the hedges. Sarah looked up blinking, “Was that you?”

“Pollen,” Grace said sweetly. “Terrible time of year.” Matthew shot her a murderous look.

Determined to salvage what dignity he had left, he rose to his feet and crossed the garden toward Sarah, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

The sun framed Sarah in gold, catching in her hair and highlighting the soft curve of her smile as she looked up at him.

In a single moment, every coherent thought vanished from his mind.

“This is a nice bush,” he said, nodding toward a hedge.

Sarah blinked, then she laughed, a bright, unguarded sound that made something in Matthew’s chest catch.

“Thank you, Matty,” she said, eyes sparkling.

“I’ll be sure to pass along the compliment.

” From somewhere behind him, Grace made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

Matthew flushed scarlet. Sarah tilted her head, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “Are you feeling quite alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Matthew said far too quickly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing anywhere but at her.

“I just...” The words tangled themselves before they reached his tongue.

“I was wondering if you’d... like to... I mean.

..” Sarah waited, her gaze steady, the faintest sparkle lighting her eyes.

“Would you care to take a walk with me?” he blurted, half-wincing the moment it escaped.

Simple. Safe. And somehow the most terrifying question he’d ever asked in his life.

Sarah’s expression softened instantly, her voice gentler now. “Of course, Matty. I’d love to.” Behind them, Grace let out an exaggerated sigh of triumph. They turned onto the garden path, the trees overhead casting a gentle web of shadows and sunlight across the stones.

For a while, they simply walked. The quiet between them was familiar and well-worn, but something about it felt new now, tenuous and tender. Suddenly all Matthew could focus on was the space between them—too wide to take her hand, but just narrow enough to ache for it.

Sarah brushed a loose curl from her cheek, her voice soft. “You’re quiet today.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just thinking.” She smiled sideways at him. “Important thoughts, I hope.”

“You,” he tensed the moment he realized he had spoken the thought outloud. Sarah stopped mid-step, brows rising. “Your mother is planning another party,” he added hastily. “I was thinking about how much you’ll hate it.”

Sarah laughed and the knot in his chest loosened.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said, giving his shoulder a teasing nudge.

Matthew stumbled a little. So did his heart.

They circled back toward the arbor, golden light bleeding across the garden walls, shadows stretching long and slow across the stone.

Grace watched from the fountain with Benjamin, her embroidery still abandoned beside her.