The Last Eligible Bachelor - Ashtyn Newbold Page 0,51
see her in such distress.”
I could feel the intensity of Mr. Hill’s gaze as he listened to me, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. My words spilled out fast. “I wondered if you might speak to your uncle on her behalf. On my behalf.” I glanced up, meeting his gaze quickly before looking down again. “You might ask that he retract his accusations and see him released from prison. He is a good man. I can vouch for his character as much as any other person of his acquaintance. He does not deserve the sentence he might receive.”
Several seconds passed before Mr. Hill spoke, and I held my breath. “If this man is indeed a thief…should he be allowed to avoid the consequences?”
“Surely his months in prison have been enough. He apologized. He returned the stolen item. He was defending his family and took his actions too far. A man who steals once with regret is not a thief. Only one who makes a habit of it and feels no guilt.”
Mr. Hill gave a slow nod, observing me for a long moment. “I will write to him today and investigate the matter.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “It is very kind of you to be so concerned for your maid. I know you despise having me see your kindness, but it is impossible to miss. You have a heart unlike any lady I have met.”
The sincerity in his voice matched that of his eyes, and I had to look away again. What would he think if he knew I was the maid from that story? How betrayed would he feel? I tried to focus on the relief and the hope that gripped me, but I was robbed of any celebration by my guilt. If Mr. Hill had been less wonderful, I might have been happy at this moment. Instead, I felt rather empty.
As we walked around the side of the house, I caught sight of the swing that had set my emotions spinning. The breeze tossed the ropes, causing it to sway side to side. If I closed my eyes, I was certain I would feel Papa’s strong hands on my back, lifting me high into the sky and letting me go; I would feel the breeze against my cheeks and my teeth as I smiled and laughed.
“Would you like to try the swing before we leave?” Mr. Hill asked.
I opened my mouth to refuse, but he was already walking toward it, gesturing at the seat. “I assure you, it’s secure.” He sat down on the wooden plank, clutching the ropes with both hands before pushing off the ground with his feet. The branch above rustled slightly but held his weight. With the broad smile on his cheeks as he swung, he appeared more youthful than he ever had. I could easily picture him as a boy, with his golden-brown hair slightly lighter, perhaps freckles on his cheeks and those deep dimples ever-present.
He stood, taking hold of the rope to stop the motion of the swing. “Come,” he said with a cajoling smile.
My legs shook as I walked forward, and I tried to hide the concern on my face as I approached. It had been years since I had been on a swing, or even thought of the swing from my childhood. With a deep breath, I sat down, clutching the ropes so tightly my fingers ached. This swing seemed to have been built much taller than the one I was accustomed to. My toes barely brushed the ground as I tried to push away from it.
Mr. Hill’s deep chuckle came from behind me, and then I felt one strong hand press against the center of my back. A sound escaped me, half-laugh, half-shriek, as he pushed me high into the air. The pressure of his hand deserted me, and all I felt was the wind against my back as I swung backward, then skyward once again. Mr. Hill’s laughter carried up through the air toward me, and I was choked by laughter of my own. This was what freedom felt like. It was pure joy, relief, and weightlessness. It was like the freedom I now had a chance to give to Papa, with Mr. Hill’s help. Papa, my family complete again, it was no longer out of reach. But the sky still was.
I opened my eyes, looking up as I swung back and forth, higher and higher. The clouds: out of reach.