Amy straightened her back and raised her chin, forcing the confident poise to remain as he approached. His brown eyes she’d once thought warm and inviting settled on her, twisting her heart, but she refused to break eye contact.
“This is Mr. William Eastwood,” Hugh said, pulling Mr. Roberts’s attention away from Amy. “He owns the cottage where we are now staying. Mr. Eastwood, our good friend, Mr. Dominic Roberts.”
Their good friend? Hugh must be out of his mind.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Roberts,” Mr. Eastwood said with a short bow.
Mr. Eastwood’s eyes flicked between the gentleman and Amy, but she kept her eyes trained on Mr. Roberts, who barely responded to Mr. Eastwood before turning to face her.
“Miss Paxton.” He said her name with an airy tone, as if he delighted in each syllable spoken. To think she had once fairly swooned over such a toothy grin. “How delighted I am to see you again. You look as lovely as when last we met.”
Amy’s confidence faltered, her blood boiling at the audacity he had to mention their last meeting in front of her family and this stranger. But then, he wasn’t flashing a teasing grin, nor were his eyes twinkling. In fact, past his smile, he appeared rather contrite.
But she could not trust him.
She looked away, avoiding his gaze and Mr. Eastwood’s alike.
“We are certainly surprised to see you here, sir,” Mama said. Her lips pulled in a straight line.
Papa, on the other hand, did not even try, as disapproval creased his brow three times over.
Another boost of support buoyed her courage.
Mr. Roberts’s smile faltered. He swallowed hard as he faced her parents. So he hadn’t forgotten what he did to Amy then.
“Yes, I do apologize for not announcing my arrival.”
Was that all for which he would apologize?
Hugh shook his head, seemingly the only one pleased with the man’s sudden appearance. “Of course it is no trouble. We are thrilled to see you. Now tell us, what on earth are you doing here?”
Mr. Roberts sent another glance at Amy, but she remained as stony-faced as Papa. “I fear I have grown weary of Bath and its society, like all of you. I decided to accept your request to join you here.”
The breath slipped from her lungs. No matter how she struggled, she could not haul it back. Hugh had invited Mr. Roberts to join them in Coniston? She should’ve known.
Hugh’s wary eyes found Amy’s, though he hurriedly looked away before revealing any more of his feelings.
Silence followed, and Mr. Roberts looked from person to person. “You do recall inviting me, do you not, Paxton? To stay with you during your time here?”
His words echoed jarringly against her chest. The same rigidity in her chest she’d felt that day in the gardens by the fountain crept back into her lungs.
How could Hugh have done such a thing? Her own brother, inviting this man who had rejected her, humiliated her, and spread gossip about her, to stay with them in Coniston? It was the worst sort of betrayal. One she could not readily forget.
Hugh lowered his voice. “Of course, my friend. But, I fear the cottage is too small to take on another person. I trust the Black Bull Inn will more than suffice your needs for the time being.”
Mr. Roberts’s face fell, though he nodded.
Amy pulled in her lips to keep from berating her brother’s choices right then and there. How could he be so selfish?
“Of course that will be more than enough.” Mr. Roberts gazed past Mama and Papa to eye the boats. “Well, it would appear that I’ve interrupted a family outing. Do excuse me. I will leave you now and return to the inn. Though I hope to speak with you all soon.”
His eyes lingered on Amy as he took a step back. Just as she thought she might be free, Hugh stopped him. “Why do you not join us, Roberts? We were just discussing earlier how one of us would have had to row out alone. With you, we would be an even number.” He paused, turning to Amy with an innocent expression. “In fact, you could even go out with my sister. I’m sure the two of you are anxious to speak with one another again.”
Amy listened, horrified. What was Hugh thinking to suggest such a thing? Despite her scowl—and her parents’ stern looks—Hugh merely continued to smile.
“Oh, I wouldn’t wish to impose,” Mr. Roberts said, a hopeful touch to his voice.
“It would not be an imposition at all, would it, Mr. Eastwood?” Hugh pressed.
Mr. Eastwood looked to the Paxtons, as if he sought for further clarification before answering. But as Mama, Papa, and Amy remained silent, he shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“Excellent. Then I should be very happy to accompany you, Miss Paxton. If you wish it?”
Amy stared in stunned silence. How could she even answer such a question? Decline and embarrass the man, revealing to Mr. Eastwood her unkindness without his realizing why? Or accept Mr. Roberts’s offer and spend the next whoever-knew-how-long boating with the gentleman who’d almost broken her heart?
She squared her shoulders. She knew just what she wished to do, and that was to confront Mr. Roberts about why he was really in Coniston. Then, after their time at the lake was finished, she would take Hugh and give him the verbal lashing he so thoroughly deserved.
“Yes, Mr. Roberts. You may accompany me.”
Chapter Fourteen
This was just what William needed, for Miss Paxton to be occupied by someone other than himself. Now he would be free to enjoy his time on the lake without being distracted by her blonde strands of hair blowing across her pink lips or her eyes as deep and blue as Coniston Water peering over at him.
Of course he’d enjoyed his time laughing with her at Flitfield, but that was only because he hadn’t laughed in so long. He wasn’t disappointed in the slightest that she’d agreed to go with Mr. Roberts—whoever the devil that man was. In fact, William had more than expected it. After all, Miss Paxton was still doing whatever Hugh asked of her. And that was fine with William. More than fine.
But then, why did his heart struggle to beat, as if his chest had shriveled to half its normal size? And why did he regret now more than ever agreeing to Mrs. Paxton’s insisting that he join them on the lake?
He held back as Mr. and Mrs. Paxton entered the first boat, followed shortly by Mr. Roberts and Miss Paxton in the next. Miss Paxton disregarded the gentleman’s helping hand and clambered in the boat herself.
As much as Hugh claimed to be friends with Mr. Roberts, the rest of the Paxtons appeared rather displeased with his arrival. Especially Miss Paxton.
Setting aside his thoughts—he had no reason to dwell on such things—he approached the final boat with Hugh.
“You wouldn’t mind rowing out, would you, sir?” Hugh asked. “I’m not one for exerting myself when it comes to rowing. Or ever, really.”
That came as no surprise. Hugh didn’t appear to have done a lick of physical labor in his life. At any rate, William preferred rowing himself. That way they wouldn’t end up banked in the mud at the opposite end of the lake or with the boat overturned due to some poor mishandling of the oars.
They set off across the lake in the direction of the others. After a few strides, William peered over his shoulder to ensure they were still on course, surprised to find they’d already caught up with Mr. Roberts and Miss Paxton.
As they passed by, William could better see the man’s red face as he appeared to be concentrating very hard on keeping both oars steady, though they veered to the right once William moved ahead.
Miss Paxton hardly seemed to notice, her eyes focused on the water lapping at the boat’s side. She’d removed her glove and was now threading her fingers through the lake, a small smile curving her lips.
He had rented a boat last year to spend some time on the water with Charity, but she had had a miserable time. She wasn’t one for getting wet—as he’d discovered to his detriment when he’d attempted to playfully splash her. She hadn’t spoken to him the rest of th
e evening until he’d contritely apologized, though he’d meant only to engage her in a bit of fun.
William didn’t know how Miss Paxton would respond to such playful behavior, but based on how invigorated she’d appeared after being caught in the rain the day he’d been discovered in her room, he was certain he was fairly safe to assume the woman wouldn’t hesitate to enjoy a good water fight now and again.
His brow pursed. Of course Charity would be upset with his splashing her if she didn’t wish to be. And it was more than all right to not like water, or to like water. He needed to stop comparing the two women.
He chewed his cheek, keeping his gaze trained on the scenery around him. Early morning mist lingered atop the hills, cloaking the taller trees in a scant, white blanket. The bright green grass and gold and orange trees reflected perfectly in the still water at the edge of a lake, as if they peered over the side to view their beauty in Coniston’s mirror.
As spectacular as the sight was, there was another view William wished to take in even more. One of a red-trimmed bonnet framing a pretty face. Of eyes that sparkled brighter than the stars when she smiled, and the faintest spattering of freckles across the bridge of her petite nose.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave a swift shake to his head. He sounded like an idiot. He was behaving like one, too.
Hugh sighed across from him, holding his head back and closing his eyes as the sun touched his face.
William stared. Perhaps he ought to speak with him. That would certainly provide a distraction worthy enough to keep him from staring at Miss Paxton.
“Will your friend be staying in Coniston long, do you think?”
Fool. Speaking of Mr. Roberts was a definite way to have the conversation steer toward Miss Paxton. Was his own tongue trying to betray him?
Hugh kept his eyes closed as he shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest. As I’m sure you noticed, his arrival came as a bit of a shock to all of us. Particularly my sister.”
He cracked an eye open, but William refused to react, despite the inferno of questions burning inside him. Why would it come as a shock to Miss Paxton more than anyone? Had they some sort of attachment between them?
His eyes flitted to the boat now quite behind William’s. As far as he could see, Mr. Roberts spoke while Miss Paxton still stared at the water. She hardly seemed attached to the man.
“I do apologize the manor was not ready for you and your family, especially now that Mr. Roberts will be forced to remain at the inn.”
Hugh waved a flippant hand. “Roberts’s idea of adventure is picnicking on his own grounds or taking a carriage ride with the top down.” He sniffed a laugh. “Staying at the inn will be just the thing his spirit needs.”
Finally, Hugh’s eyes opened as he peered back at Mr. Roberts’s boat. “As you can see, he doesn’t boat very often, either.”
Mr. Roberts and Miss Paxton were now circling toward the middle of the lake at a snail’s pace. Hugh had known Mr. Roberts was rubbish at rowing, yet he still sent his sister with the man?
Frustration sparked in William’s chest. Of course Hugh was not to be trusted, but William should’ve ensured Mr. Roberts could at least use the oars before allowing Miss Paxton out with him.
“Roberts and I have always been good friends,” Hugh continued, still watching the other boat. “Though, Amy is closer to him now, I believe.”
William’s eyes snapped away from Miss Paxton, where he hadn’t known they’d been.
A sly grin spread slowly across Hugh’s face. “Do you wish for me to clarify my words?”
William’s jaw tensed. “Surely that is none of my business.”
If only to prove that he could stare at someone other than Miss Paxton, William turned to Mr. and Mrs. Paxton as they smiled at one another in their own boat.
At least those two seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Hugh stroked the side of his smooth jaw. “I see. You are one of those gentlemen. The ones who keep to themselves to avoid rumors and gossip.”
William shrugged, moving the oars back and forth in rhythmic motion to keep the boat steady. Mr. Roberts was alternating between the oars, so the boat was only propelled forward by the water, which now moved and shimmered against the light of the sun in the growing wind.
“I suppose there is nothing wrong with wishing for one’s privacy,” Hugh continued. “So, I’m assuming you would then not take kindly to my asking after a certain Miss Charity Winslow?”
William’s throat dried, as if all the water in Coniston could not wet it enough. He drew hardened eyes at Hugh. What was the man hinting toward? Did he claim to know more with Miss Cox as his confidant?
Either way, William would not stoop to such a level. “No. I would not take kindly to it.”
Hugh laughed flippantly. “Oh, women and wives. Courtship and marriage. It is all rather complicated, is it not? This is why I shall never marry. There are far too many women to enjoy outside of the restrictions of marriage.”
He winked, and William’s stomach roiled.
“I take it by your silence that you will one day marry,” Hugh stated.
“Yes, I will marry one day, and I do not see why any man would wish not to.”
Especially with a woman as intelligent and level-headed as Charity. If—no, when—he married her, they would be at peace, they would have a life of ease. That was what he wanted more than anything. More than excitement and laughter, more than water fights and Battledore and Shuttlecock.
Besides, there was more to their relationship than a simple desire to marry. He needed to, if only to make up for what his grandfather did to Charity and her mother.
His eyes trailed to Miss Paxton, who stared at the Old Man rising over the autumn trees. Dark clouds hovered above the fell, as if trying to decide to make the journey toward Coniston or to move on to another village.
If only they’d draw closer to save him from this wretched conversation—this wretched day.
“May I make another assumption?” Hugh asked, drawing William’s attention back to him.
William longed to stuff the flat end of the oar into Hugh’s mouth to get him to stop talking, but the man forged on without a response from William.
“Am I right to assume, considering how well you get on with my sister, that you would not mind a wife who speaks her mind?”
William rolled his tongue along the back of his teeth. Hugh was either tempting him into an argument or testing his loyalty to Miss Paxton. Either way, he would not be giving this man any ammunition to use against his sister.
“No, I wouldn’t mind such a wife. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with a woman speaking her mind.”
Hugh shook his head incredulously. “I’m afraid I’ll never understand men like you. Mr. Roberts and I, of course, agree on the matter and have discussed this at length. Women ought to be amiable before vocal. Although, Mr. Roberts wishes to someday marry, and I do not.”
William’s temples pinched, a headache pulsing at the forefront of his brow. So Mr. Roberts was of the same frame of mind, wishing for a subdued woman. Was this why Hugh was teaching Miss Paxton to behave such a way, so she might be prepared to marry Mr. Roberts?
Nausea curled within him, rising dangerously towards his throat. Mother had been pressured into becoming subdued and silent by Grandfather before Father had been allowed to marry her. She hadn’t spoken her mind for so long, William wasn’t sure she even had an opinion of her own.
How could he stand by idly and allow the same thing to happen to the kindhearted, joyful Miss Paxton?
Hugh continued. “Mr. Roberts and I, you see, we wish for peace. We wouldn’t take to a woman telling us how to behave for the rest of our lives. What to wear, with whom to speak…with whom we are allowed to flirt.”
He flashed a grin when he finally stopped, but William remained stoic. “I, too, wish for peace, sir. But such a life is possible even with a wife who is proud to be who she is, who is allowed—no, encouraged and suppor
ted—to be who she is. In fact, I believe one is even more likely to have peace in marriage, for when both partners are happy, they are more inclined to make each other happier, as well.”
Hugh blew a breath, puffing out his cheeks. “That all sounds rather exhausting, does it not? Always working to ensure the happiness of your wife. It is far easier to find enjoyment when ladies are on their best behavior. Once they begin to show their true selves, it’s far easier to leave and begin anew with another. Women are dispensable creatures, after all.”
William stopped rowing, his soul hardening to stone. “And do your mother and sister know you feel such a way?”
Hugh chuckled. “Of course not. I would never say such words to them.”
“And yet, though you may not speak such words aloud, your twisted ideology is certain to be reflected in the poor way in which you treat them.”
Hugh’s smile faltered for the first time since William could remember, but William could not stop now that he’d begun.
“Women are in no way lesser than their male counterparts. They are to be loved and treated with respect in the same way men ought to be. In an equal partnership, men and women alike both bring value. One can only spend so long in one’s own company—or in the arms of various, fruitless women—before one realizes that bachelorhood, premier bachelorhood, does not, cannot, last forever.”
Hugh’s brow lowered, his lips thinning just as Miss Paxton’s did when she was upset. “I must disagree with you, sir. But to avoid any residual ill feelings between the two of us, I suggest we change the topic.”
“That perfectly suits me,” William said, still seething.
He’d promised himself not to lose patience, not to be coaxed into arguing with this man who was fundamentally different than William in nearly every aspect.
Well, he’d certainly failed at that, hadn’t he?
Amy looked over her shoulder at the dark clouds growing over the Old Man. Was the storm approaching the lake, or was it merely wishful thinking on her part?
The Cottage by Coniston (Seasons of Change Book 5) Page 14