The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,14
We are well able to protect ourselves, and the ones I would be concerned about, my parents and his, are unfortunately gone. We’ll talk to our brothers and sisters, if and when the time comes. Don’t compromise yourself, dear heart. Don’t do it.”
“Your mother is right. Stay the course, Alexander. You’re the best man I know,” his father said.
And that was it. That comment, which made him want to alternately hug his father and punch him, was the one that made him run out of his father’s office, out of his family home, down the street, to stop and lean down, panting, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. He needed time to think. He suddenly felt very alone.
Chapter 5
Elspeth threaded her needle and stitched the tear in Payden’s shirt sleeve. What a boy he was, she thought and smiled. His tutors had nothing but high praise for his intellect and his character. He’d soon be taller than her. Elspeth heard a knock at the front door and continued her stitching, although she did wonder who would be calling this late in the afternoon. The door to her room opened, and Kirsty peeped in.
“Your Mr. Pendergast is here. He’d like to speak to you.”
She looked up. “He is not my Mr. Pendergast.”
“Well, he’s not mine either, but it would be impolite to leave him standing on the stoop. He wouldn’t come inside.”
“Where is Muireall?”
“She’s out with Aunt Murdoch. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Kirsty stared at her. “Are you going to let him stand there all evening until Muireall does come home?”
Elspeth wanted to see him, shocked at maybe how much she wanted to see him. And she could not understand Muireall’s belief that he presented some danger to their family. He just did not seem the type, notwithstanding her original opinion of him, and what could he possibly do anyway? Was it so outrageous to believe that he was interested in her? For herself? She sat her mending aside and stood. Her sister followed her down the stairs and watched as she pulled a worn shawl from the hook near the door around her shoulders.
“Do you want me to come outside with you?” Kirsty asked. “For propriety’s sake.”
Elspeth shook her head and opened the door. He looked every bit as handsome as she’d remembered, but there was something about his eyes. Something troubled.
“Mr. Pendergast?”
He looked at her and then looked away, twirling his hat in his hand.
“I’m not sure what brought me here,” he said.
She lifted her brows. “Well, something certainly did. Would you like to come inside?” she asked, realizing she was willing to risk her sister’s wrath over this man.
He shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Why—”
“Good day to you, Miss Thompson. I’m sorry to have interrupted your afternoon.” He turned and hurried down the stone steps.
Elspeth watched as he went. He appeared as a confident, well-to-do man on his way to fulfill some mission as he tipped his hat to a woman walking past him. But that was not what his eyes said. His eyes had said there was some vast roil in his world, and an unpleasant one at that. She slipped inside for her bonnet.
“Be careful, Elspeth,” Kirsty said.
She nodded and hurried down the steps and quickly turned in Mr. Pendergast’s direction, even though she could barely see him ahead, now a full block away.
“Mr. Pendergast! Mr. Pendergast!” she said as she closed the gap between them. “Mr. Pendergast! Wait!”
He stopped but did not turn until she was nearly upon him. “Mr. Pendergast, please,” she said, trying to calm her breathing. “You must tell me why . . . why you . . . have come to my home.”
“Miss Thompson, I don’t wish to damage your reputation. We cannot be seen together without inferring certain things to your neighbors.”
“Why did you come to my home? And where is your carriage? Or your horse?”
“I didn’t bring my carriage. I walked.”
“You walked?”
He shrugged. “I needed to clear my head.”
Elspeth stared at him, even though he was not looking back at her. She waited until he did. “What is it, Mr. Pendergast?” she whispered.
He looked up and down the street and nodded toward a bench in front of a small open area of trees. “Perhaps you would like to have a seat and catch your breath, Miss Thompson?”
She went as directed and seated herself. “Now tell me, Mr. Pendergast. Why did you walk all the way to my front door?” Several moments passed until he spoke.