friends—the same holds true. The correct relationship will make a person bloom. He becomes more himself, his talents deepen, his personality grows, and he thrives. But the wrong relationship will produce the opposite. The things that were once so vital no longer matter. His talents disappear, his individuality fades, and he wilts.” Jim placed his foot back on the floor and leaned forward. “I do not know you well, miss, but I would not want to see a person so passionate about life and learning cease to exist because she was seeking to impress the wrong person.”
Meg’s eyes filled, and she refused to blink and allow the tears to spill over. “Would you recommend that I condemn my family to a life of poverty, sir? Simply so that I could continue reading romance novels?”
The colonel exhaled through his nose in a huff. “Poverty? In America? I do not believe there is such thing. Not when a man is willing to work hard. There are endless opportunities. Perhaps your family will go west or purchase some land and grow cotton.” The colonel shrugged, and his face contorted in an expression Meg thought might be a smile. He settled back into his chair. “I’m certain you have other interests besides books. You have an astute understanding of war tactics. And unless I am mistaken, I believe I saw you riding the other day. You are a skilled horsewoman.”
Relief washed over Meg. The colonel had not set out to ruin or embarrass her. Quite the opposite, he acted as if he cared about her situation. She felt a connection with this man, who, through only a few interactions with her, seemed to understand. And though he did not speak compassionately, she felt the honesty in his words. There had not been many at Thornshire who cared about Meg’s opinions.
She perched again on the edge of the chair, a relieved smile on her face. “Thank you, sir. I do love to ride.”
“And you seemed very happy in your companion.”
Meg’s smile grew as she thought about Carlo. The memory of the ride and the way he had surprised her the night before grew inside her chest like a warm bubble. “Yes, my friend, Carlo. He is wonderful. He tends Prince Rodrigo’s horses.”
Jim’s eye squinted, and his head tipped slightly to the side.
Meg stopped as she saw the colonel’s expression. Her throat went dry as she realized that she may have given away a confidence. Carlo had taken her riding in secret. Would he be punished for accompanying a lady alone? And on the prince’s horse.
The colonel remained silent, but Meg could not, not when her friend might face some sort of discipline. In a country that transported a man for killing a bird, what would be the penalty for Carlo’s actions? “Please Colonel Stackhouse. Do not say anything to the duke or Her Grace. Carlo simply thought to do something nice for me, a favor. Please do not report him to the prince. I . . . it was my fault. He should not be punished.”
The longer the colonel remained silent, the bigger the lump in Meg’s throat grew. Her eyes burned with tears. Her heart was beating loudly. She considered what she must do to protect Carlo. She would plead with the duke if she had to. Could she convince Serena not to say anything to her brother if Colonel Stackhouse told her?
Jim’s expression did not change, but he murmured, “Carlo?”
She brushed her fingers across the tears leaking down her cheeks. “Colonel, I am begging you. Please do not tell anyone. He has been most kind to me, and I could never forgive myself if he were punished for it.”
Colonel Stackhouse blinked and looked up. He seemed to notice that Meg was near the point of sobbing and jolted in his seat. “Miss Burton, dash it all, do not weep. I understand the value of a good friend, and I will keep your confidence. Please, I beg you, do not start blubbering.”
Meg thought she might sink to the floor or throw her arms around the colonel, so great was her relief. She let out a sigh that was choked by a
Meg’s eyes filled, and she refused to blink and allow the tears to spill over. “Would you recommend that I condemn my family to a life of poverty, sir? Simply so that I could continue reading romance novels?”
The colonel exhaled through his nose in a huff. “Poverty? In America? I do not believe there is such thing. Not when a man is willing to work hard. There are endless opportunities. Perhaps your family will go west or purchase some land and grow cotton.” The colonel shrugged, and his face contorted in an expression Meg thought might be a smile. He settled back into his chair. “I’m certain you have other interests besides books. You have an astute understanding of war tactics. And unless I am mistaken, I believe I saw you riding the other day. You are a skilled horsewoman.”
Relief washed over Meg. The colonel had not set out to ruin or embarrass her. Quite the opposite, he acted as if he cared about her situation. She felt a connection with this man, who, through only a few interactions with her, seemed to understand. And though he did not speak compassionately, she felt the honesty in his words. There had not been many at Thornshire who cared about Meg’s opinions.
She perched again on the edge of the chair, a relieved smile on her face. “Thank you, sir. I do love to ride.”
“And you seemed very happy in your companion.”
Meg’s smile grew as she thought about Carlo. The memory of the ride and the way he had surprised her the night before grew inside her chest like a warm bubble. “Yes, my friend, Carlo. He is wonderful. He tends Prince Rodrigo’s horses.”
Jim’s eye squinted, and his head tipped slightly to the side.
Meg stopped as she saw the colonel’s expression. Her throat went dry as she realized that she may have given away a confidence. Carlo had taken her riding in secret. Would he be punished for accompanying a lady alone? And on the prince’s horse.
The colonel remained silent, but Meg could not, not when her friend might face some sort of discipline. In a country that transported a man for killing a bird, what would be the penalty for Carlo’s actions? “Please Colonel Stackhouse. Do not say anything to the duke or Her Grace. Carlo simply thought to do something nice for me, a favor. Please do not report him to the prince. I . . . it was my fault. He should not be punished.”
The longer the colonel remained silent, the bigger the lump in Meg’s throat grew. Her eyes burned with tears. Her heart was beating loudly. She considered what she must do to protect Carlo. She would plead with the duke if she had to. Could she convince Serena not to say anything to her brother if Colonel Stackhouse told her?
Jim’s expression did not change, but he murmured, “Carlo?”
She brushed her fingers across the tears leaking down her cheeks. “Colonel, I am begging you. Please do not tell anyone. He has been most kind to me, and I could never forgive myself if he were punished for it.”
Colonel Stackhouse blinked and looked up. He seemed to notice that Meg was near the point of sobbing and jolted in his seat. “Miss Burton, dash it all, do not weep. I understand the value of a good friend, and I will keep your confidence. Please, I beg you, do not start blubbering.”
Meg thought she might sink to the floor or throw her arms around the colonel, so great was her relief. She let out a sigh that was choked by a
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