had been at Loblolly for twenty years. He washed and shaved in silence.
Dottie heaped eggs and sausages onto a plate. "Come and eat."
"Thank you." He sat at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, Dottie. About your family."
"I know." She patted his shoulder. "You're a good boy. Always have been."
With a frown, he began eating. If he was good, he wouldn't have made Caroline wait for the news that her father was well.
As he finished the last bite, Betsy walked in with a tray of dirty dishes.
"They finished eating in the Great House." She set the tray next to the dishpan. "Miss Munro said she was taking the children to the garden."
Caroline. Maybe he could see her before he left. He handed his empty plate to Betsy. "Is Miss Ludlow with them?"
"Lord, no." Betsy scoffed. "She doesn't care for the young'uns."
Matthias shrugged on his plain brown coat. "I'll return for the bread in a little while. Betsy, can I have that letter back?"
When she passed him the letter, he tossed it into the fire. With a grin, he headed for the garden. And Caroline.
Chapter Twelve
As he exited the kitchen, Matthias glanced around to make sure he wasn't seen. He dashed to the pergola, and instantly, the temperature dropped as he was surrounded by green, living shade. The sun pierced through the vines here and there, dappling the ground with spots of light.
He heard the children talking. Grasping a vine in his hand, he opened a peephole. There she was, in jasmine-yellow cotton, her red curls gleaming in the morning sun.
"Miss Munro," he whispered.
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Over here."
She squinted in his direction. He crooked a finger through the opening.
She approached, a smile spreading across her sunny face. "Is that Haversham or a hedge that beckons me?"
"Come in," he whispered.
As he walked to the entrance, he could spot her yellow gown on the other side of the vines, moving on a parallel course. She reached the entrance. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the cool, leafy tunnel.
She laughed. "Whatever are you doing here? Where were you at breakfast?"
"I don't work in the house anymore." Still holding her hand, he backed into the pergola, taking her with him. "In fact, I have to go away for a while."
"You have more business matters to attend to?"
"Aye."
"How long will you be gone?" She moved closer to him. A ray of sunshine shot through the vines, lighting her face. Tiny freckles dusted her little nose.
Freckle-face. Memory of the dead redcoat flashed through Matt's mind. He released her hand. He had no idea how many men he'd dispatched in the heat of battle. Who had time to think about it when fighting for survival? But Freckle-face was the last man he'd killed, and he'd watched the light extinguish in the soldier's eyes.
What the hell was he doing, flirting with Caroline? He'd made his decision in the library to keep a distance from her. But it was damned hard to honor that decision when he was in her presence. The minute he saw her, he wanted to hold her and kiss her. But he had vowed to remain unattached throughout the war. Timing is everything. And this was the wrong time.
He stepped back. She must have noticed something in his expression for her smile faded.
He took a deep breath. "Miss Munro, I must apologize for last night."
"Oh?" Her eyes darkened with a wary look.
"I took far too much liberty. It won't happen again."
Her back stiffened. "I see."
"I can explain."
"There's no need." She brushed back a curl with an impatient gesture. "I understand."
"I'm not sure - "
" 'Tis simple enough," she interrupted him. "I may have enjoyed it, but you were eager to leave. And now you no longer wish to see me. I understand perfectly. Good day." She swiveled and headed for the pergola entrance.
"Bloody hell, I liked it. Too much."
She halted.
Damn. What was he doing? He should have let her go. " 'Tis a matter of timing. I'm not . . . free at this time."
She turned slowly. "Because of your indenture? I thought you understood. I don't care about that."
Was it possible that she could love him for himself? Not for the house, the land, or the wealth. He clenched his fists. He'd be a fool to give her up.
But what choice did he have? He could be dead in a week, a month, a year. He couldn't make promises he wasn't sure he could keep.
He had to withdraw. "I shouldn't see you again. Times