any measurable standard. In fact, judging from the stories, he seemed to have a natural aversion to cooking.
Tomas joined us, bringing a half dozen artfully arranged dates, wrapped in bacon, on a plate. He paused to take a seat to listen to the end of a disastrous tale that involved Edward mistaking sugar for salt in a recipe.
“I think you better let me do the cooking,” he said.
“What about me?” I asked, finally relaxed as Penny nursed.
“You’re too fabulous to cook,” Tomas said with the air of a man who recognized such things. “If you don’t have a cook of your own, I’ll come to be your cook.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Winters is going anywhere,” I said.
“Abigail?” Tomas repeated. “I didn’t know she took a position.”
“You know her?” It was a silly thing to ask. Of course he knew her. Everyone knew everyone in Briarshead. That was what happened when you lived in a small village.
“Sure,” he said. “The Winters family has lived here nearly as long as my family has. She went off for a while, worked at some houses in London, and then she came back here. She definitely keeps to herself.”
“Unless she has an opinion on what you’re doing,” I said dryly.
“I think you’ll find most of the people in the village will let you know if they have an opinion on what you’re doing.” He smirked as he stood up. “I better go get lunch going. I need to make sure he eats. It sounds better if we don’t allow him to cook.”
As soon just as he disappeared to the back I waggled my eyebrows at Edward. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“He’s cute,” I pressed. He was more than cute, Tomas was hot. I thought he was attractive the first time I’d met him, but suffering under the delusion that he was hitting on me had left me careful to keep my eyes to myself. Since I found out there was no harm, I could take a better look. “You two would be adorable together.”
Edward answered with a tight smile. “I’m not ready for that.”
"Sorry,” I said, instantly feeling terrible. “That was insensitive to me.
“I guess there’s no right way or wrong way to do this. It’s not like I can tell you when I’ll be ready,” he said, suddenly sounding glum. “I won’t know until I am.”
“Until then, I’ll go for a pint with you anytime,” I offered.
"I might go for a quick drink,” Edward said, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Especially if he’s willing to cook for me. He’s right. I’m totally rubbish at it.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. As we finished the gigantic slice of chocolate cake Tomas brought us before disappearing to prep dinner, Edward poked at a few crumbs with his fork.
“I think I would’ve forgiven him,” he said in a quiet voice.
“What?” I asked, not sure I heard him correctly.
“You asked me what I was going to say that day in London. That’s the worst part,” he admitted. “I think I would’ve forgiven him if he told me. I would’ve tried to help. I don’t know what I could’ve done. I keep thinking about it. Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to put you in that situation,” I offered gently. I scooped a bit of chocolate frosting onto my fork and deposited in my mouth. We might need a second slice of cake for this discussion.
“I tell myself that. I tell myself that he wanted to tell me. But it doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t. It doesn’t change what he did to Clara or Alexander. It doesn’t change what he was willing to do to William.” Edward swallowed hard. “That’s why I can’t see them. Because I’m angry that I didn’t get to say goodbye to my husband. I’m angry because Alexander took him from me. But I also feel guilty every time I think about my nephew. I should’ve known. I should have protected him and Clara. What would’ve happened if they hadn’t found her?”
I reached a hand across the table taking his in mine and squeezed it. “But they did find them,” I said in a soft voice. “They're healthy. They’re safe. You can’t punish yourself for the choices that he made. And you should never, ever feel badly for loving someone, even if they didn’t deserve you. That’s their mistake, not yours.”
I knew a thing or two about loving someone who saw themselves as irredeemable. I’d