The Last Eligible Bachelor - Ashtyn Newbold Page 0,50

for it? I knew precisely why the other ladies were assembling their baskets. They did not care for the people to whom they were giving the baskets. They only cared that they were seen carrying them.”

“That might not be entirely true…” my voice trailed off, not even convincing myself. “The women at Winslow House are good women. I believe you would find happiness with any of the four of them.”

He glanced down at me with a skeptical frown. “You have never told a greater lie than that.”

Little did he know, I certainly had. Guilt drove its blade deeper into my skin. If there wasn’t so much depending on my silence, I would have told him right then who I really was. He didn’t deserve to be tricked like this. My conscience was relieved slightly by the fact that he didn’t actually intend to marry me, or anyone else at Winslow House, so his heart at least would not be affected by my departure at the end of the month. My heart, on the other hand, I was not so sure would remain untouched.

My stomach flipped when his lips curled into a smile, and the teasing glint entered his eyes again. “Are you still worried that I will propose to you? Is that why you are advising me to see the good in the other ladies?”

“No.” My voice was too quick. “And even if you did, you know what my answer would be. Remember? I do not care to marry either.”

“Why is that?”

I had told him before that I wouldn’t marry any gentleman. I couldn’t explain the reason without telling him of my lowered position in society. No gentleman would ever marry a maid. So I simply shrugged. “The idea has never appealed to me.”

“Ah, so you haven’t been in love.”

I frowned.

He took a step closer. “If you were in love, the idea would appeal to you much more, I suspect.”

There had been a time when I had dreamed of falling in love, long before my life had changed. “How can you be so certain?” I raised one eyebrow.

His expression faltered slightly, and so did his smile. My heart picked up speed at the look he was giving me, the intensity of his gaze in the shade of the tree. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was heavy with uncertainty, and it made my breath stall.

Who had he fallen in love with? I was afraid to ask, so I kept my mouth closed, searching for a way to break through the silence between us. To my relief, Mr. Hill’s smile returned, and he lowered his voice to the mischievous tone that had become familiar. “We mustn’t allow Mrs. Ollerton to hear us discussing such improper things as love and marriage. She will assume an engagement has taken place between us.”

I followed his gaze behind me, where our chaperone was standing in the shade of a nearby tree, her neck craned as if she were trying to hear anything she possibly could over the breeze. I shared his mischievous smile for a brief moment, the elation in my chest disconcerting. When had I come to enjoy Mr. Hill’s company so much? “That would be disastrous, indeed.”

He offered his arm to me again, and we walked beyond the tree toward the one side of the house he hadn’t yet shown me. My legs were surprisingly tired from all the walking, but I didn’t mind at all. “There is another matter I wished to discuss with you,” I said, before I could lose my courage. “When you mentioned that you are a relative of Mr. Baker…the name sounded quite familiar.”

“Oh? Do you know my uncle?”

“I know of him, yes, from one of my maids.” I took a deep breath to calm the turmoil that had resumed inside my stomach. This was for Papa. After all he had sacrificed for me, I could sacrifice for him. “My maid, Matilda Sherbrooke.” Speaking my own name to Mr. Hill set my heart pounding. “Her father—a gentleman—was well acquainted with Mr. Baker, and they were friends and neighbors, until a certain enmity developed between them. Matilda’s father was at fault when he stole from Mr. Baker’s property. He returned the item shortly after, but Mr. Baker, using his connections to his advantage, had Mr. Sherbrooke placed in Canterbury Gaol, where he is currently awaiting trial.” I swallowed, tugging on the side of my skirts. “My maid is quite troubled by this, as you may imagine, and I hate to