don’t have to save them all, but couldn’t you save those in your mills?”
Offering his elbow again, he steered her toward the inn. “One cannot revolutionize the industry overnight. But you do see how my uncle and my family have attempted some improvements, don’t you?”
“I suppose.” She walked slowly beside him, a change from her vivacious self.
“Does it concern you that much? Enough to make you choose another man over me?”
Jane stopped. “There are many things I must consider in choosing a husband.”
Lifting her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “When did this decision become so complicated? Was I gone too long? Did our friendship fade over the years?”
Her eyes glistened and he longed to pull her to him, but they were on the street where anyone might pass by.
“Oh, Stephen. I cannot lie. My feelings changed the night you came home.”
Now it was his turn to hang his head. “Because I offered for you when I was bosky.”
“No. Well, that was part of it. But there is more. I wish we were at home where we might have some privacy.”
He searched the street but saw nowhere they could escape without causing her parents to seek them out. “Walk with me.”
They passed the inn where her parents had entered and continued down the road toward the edge of the town. Stephen slowed to a stroll. “Can you tell me now?”
Jane took her handkerchief from her reticule and patted her eyes. “I wish I never had to say it. I’ve never told anyone but Mama.”
“I see this is serious. You know you can count on my discretion.”
“Yes, I know. But I also know how much what I say will hurt you. But it’s too late to avoid that.” She drew in a shaky breath. “My mother’s sister married a man she loved passionately. She had known him for some time before their betrothal, my mother tells me. But she didn’t know him well enough. You see, when he drank to excess, he became quite mean.”
Again Stephen regretted his drunkenness, or at least, not waiting until he was in the privacy of his own bedchamber to drown himself as he had. “I understand.”
“No, that is not all of it. Once, when I was little, I visited them. At night he would yell, and she would cry. I heard him hit her. I saw her bruises.”
“Jane, surely you know I’d never—”
She continued on over his protestation. “A year later their son died. He was six. My aunt wrote that he’d fallen from a horse, but they didn’t own horses. At nine years old, I suddenly questioned the bruises Aiden always had. They said he was a clumsy child. That he took after his mother, always getting injured. But I knew, Stephen. I knew…”
Her voice faded and her tears overtook her. Stephen pulled her into his arms and held her, shushing her fears, absorbing every shudder that wracked her slight body. His heart broke for her. For what she had witnessed, for what she’d imagined had taken place.
For what he’d awakened when he’d yelled at her in the library at Bridgethorpe Manor.
His eyes burned. His gut roiled. He would never forgive himself.
Jane and her mother sat in the small, private sitting room at the inn while Stephen and Sir Perry were again at the mill. Jane wasn’t certain what she had expected of the mill but was pleased to see the children had been clean and didn’t appear to be starved. It still galled her that they began working at such a young age.
Mama set down her book. “Carr’s Mill is rather unexpected, don’t you think? I had imagined something much darker, dirtier. Mr. Carr seems to truly care for his workers.”
“I imagine so. Still, the workers toil so many hours and have nothing to show for it.”
Shaking her head, Mama smiled. “You should have been born a male. You have always wished to change the world.”
“Have I? I felt content with my lot.” Jane freshened the tea in their cups. “I knew I was expected to marry and raise a family and was quite happy to do so.”
“Was? Is that no
Offering his elbow again, he steered her toward the inn. “One cannot revolutionize the industry overnight. But you do see how my uncle and my family have attempted some improvements, don’t you?”
“I suppose.” She walked slowly beside him, a change from her vivacious self.
“Does it concern you that much? Enough to make you choose another man over me?”
Jane stopped. “There are many things I must consider in choosing a husband.”
Lifting her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “When did this decision become so complicated? Was I gone too long? Did our friendship fade over the years?”
Her eyes glistened and he longed to pull her to him, but they were on the street where anyone might pass by.
“Oh, Stephen. I cannot lie. My feelings changed the night you came home.”
Now it was his turn to hang his head. “Because I offered for you when I was bosky.”
“No. Well, that was part of it. But there is more. I wish we were at home where we might have some privacy.”
He searched the street but saw nowhere they could escape without causing her parents to seek them out. “Walk with me.”
They passed the inn where her parents had entered and continued down the road toward the edge of the town. Stephen slowed to a stroll. “Can you tell me now?”
Jane took her handkerchief from her reticule and patted her eyes. “I wish I never had to say it. I’ve never told anyone but Mama.”
“I see this is serious. You know you can count on my discretion.”
“Yes, I know. But I also know how much what I say will hurt you. But it’s too late to avoid that.” She drew in a shaky breath. “My mother’s sister married a man she loved passionately. She had known him for some time before their betrothal, my mother tells me. But she didn’t know him well enough. You see, when he drank to excess, he became quite mean.”
Again Stephen regretted his drunkenness, or at least, not waiting until he was in the privacy of his own bedchamber to drown himself as he had. “I understand.”
“No, that is not all of it. Once, when I was little, I visited them. At night he would yell, and she would cry. I heard him hit her. I saw her bruises.”
“Jane, surely you know I’d never—”
She continued on over his protestation. “A year later their son died. He was six. My aunt wrote that he’d fallen from a horse, but they didn’t own horses. At nine years old, I suddenly questioned the bruises Aiden always had. They said he was a clumsy child. That he took after his mother, always getting injured. But I knew, Stephen. I knew…”
Her voice faded and her tears overtook her. Stephen pulled her into his arms and held her, shushing her fears, absorbing every shudder that wracked her slight body. His heart broke for her. For what she had witnessed, for what she’d imagined had taken place.
For what he’d awakened when he’d yelled at her in the library at Bridgethorpe Manor.
His eyes burned. His gut roiled. He would never forgive himself.
Jane and her mother sat in the small, private sitting room at the inn while Stephen and Sir Perry were again at the mill. Jane wasn’t certain what she had expected of the mill but was pleased to see the children had been clean and didn’t appear to be starved. It still galled her that they began working at such a young age.
Mama set down her book. “Carr’s Mill is rather unexpected, don’t you think? I had imagined something much darker, dirtier. Mr. Carr seems to truly care for his workers.”
“I imagine so. Still, the workers toil so many hours and have nothing to show for it.”
Shaking her head, Mama smiled. “You should have been born a male. You have always wished to change the world.”
“Have I? I felt content with my lot.” Jane freshened the tea in their cups. “I knew I was expected to marry and raise a family and was quite happy to do so.”
“Was? Is that no
Similar Books
