lashes fluttered open. James glanced down at her, and her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. He helped her sit up when she struggled slightly, and she gently rose from off his lap to stand.
“Thank you,” she said. “I do not know how to repay your kindness, Mr. Delaney.”
He slowly stood. “There is nothing to repay, Miss Ashford. You are the sister of one of my dearest friends.”
They stared at each other in silence for several moments. James did not understand why his heart started its slow and almost painful drumbeat. There was something about her unfathomable gaze.
“Perhaps someday we shall meet again, Mr. Delaney.”
“I hope that we do, Miss Ashford. Please allow me to walk you home.”
She glanced toward the pathway leading to the manor house then back at him. “It is a path I’ve walked many times. I will be safe…and I need to be alone.”
She started to remove his greatcoat, and James held up a hand.
“Please, keep it to shelter you from the cold on your return journey.”
Miss Ashford smiled, a barely-there curve of her lips, and murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Delaney.”
She whirled around and walked away without looking back. James watched her until she disappeared from his sight. It was only then he continued his journey to the inn.
Almost two hours later, perhaps it could be more, James stood by the window overlooking the forecourt of the inn. He’d taken a bath and had a warm meal but found that sleep eluded him. He held in his hands the letter Richard had given him when they had marched to war.
James stared at it for a long time, wondering if Richard had ever read James’ equivalent letter. After their very first battle together, the wool had been removed from their eyes, and they had discovered the harsh understanding of war. They had decided to write, with the vow not to open their respective letter unless the other died on the battlefield. Those letters would contain their unfulfilled wishes and hopes the other should see fulfilled.
They had kept those letters, and though Richard hadn’t perished directly on the battlefield, James had traveled with the letter today.
What wish did you have, my friend, that you wanted to be fulfilled?
With slightly trembling fingers James opened the letter.
Dear James,
If all is to be believed, I have perished, and you are now reading my last wish. I do hope you are reading this letter many years from now, when we are old men and married with many children, and the only reason we have opened our letters is to reminisce on the past and the foolish hopes we’ve long held in our hearts.
If I have died young, I have failed my family. I am the oldest and should provide suitably for my family. If I have left them in the lurch, the one thing I ask for is that you take care of my sister, Poppy.
When my father departed several years prior, he left my stepmother a very handsome widow’s portion, and for my two youngest sisters, he provided suitable dowries. It was unfortunate that when father married our stepmother, he only had space in his heart for her and the two new daughters she bore him. He only left Poppy a pearl necklace and a painting that had belonged to our mother.
Undoubtedly, at this point, you are wondering what I mean by taking care of Poppy. You are the second son of a well-connected family and have many prospects. I am asking you to marry her.
A feeling unknown to James jolted through his heart, and he read that line three more times before he read the rest of the letter.
Poppy is a lovely girl with many admirable qualities, and she is filled with good humor. Whenever I am morose, she has the most astonishing ability to bring a smile to my lips. She is a bit of a romantic, but I daresay for a man as opposed to sentiments as yourself, it is a good balance. You might never love her, but I know you will treat her with kind consideration. I do not want to deceive you by implying she is the sweetest creature at all times. When the situation calls for it, her charming tongue can become the sharpest sword.
I am shamelessly importuning on your connections, and for our friendship, in the hopes, it will find happiness for her.
Your friend,
Richard.
“Bloody hell,” James muttered, not understanding why his heart pounded so fiercely.
James released another harsh breath. They had written these letters