Page 163 of Kathryn

Gerrit scowled. “I have always asked questions when I am interested in something.”

“So, I have joined the company of fossils, have I?”

“There is worse company to be in.”

She smiled. “That is true. I was thinking I’d like to do a bit more gardening. I find it restful.”

“I’m sure Norland will be delighted.”

She cocked her head at him. “Are you well?” she asked, tugging off gardening gloves that were far too large for her. Gerrit made a mental note to have proper pair made for her. She had her work gloves, of course, but those needed to stay out at the dig and—

“Gerrit?”

He looked up from her hands. “I have to tell you something.”

“Is it—did something bad happen to one of my sisters or brothers?”

He blinked. “What? No, no, nothing like that. This is about me.” Unfortunately.

“Do you want to talk here?” she asked,

“I would rather go for a walk.”

“Of course. Let me fetch my hat and return these gloves to Mr. Norland.”

A short time later they were strolling through a part of the gardens he almost never visited. He liked flowers, of course, but he did not go out of his way to observe them. Especially when they were wild, as these were. His preference was for the precision one found in the parterre garden his father had created.

His father.

The utter shock of his mother’s letters crashed over him yet again like a brutal, chilling wave.

Good God. Soon he would have to share his shame with Kathryn.

“Gerrit? My slippers are not the best for this slick slope.”

Out of habit Gerrit had led her toward the long, gently sloping expanse of lawn that led to the hedge maze. He had no need for a maze today, not when it felt as if there was one in his head with him trapped inside it.

“Apologies,” he murmured, taking her arm and slowing his pace. When they reached the bench outside the maze entrance, he stopped. “Let us sit.”

Once they were both as comfortable as they would get on cool stone, he turned to her and took her hand, his need for physical contact with her almost overwhelming.

“You are worrying me, Gerrit,” she said, setting her other hand on both of theirs.

“I just left Amelia St. Clare’s house.”

Her lips parted and a guilty, wary look flickered across her face as she opened and closed her mouth, no words emerging.

“I know you have been visiting her.”

“Oh. I see. Are you angry?”

“No, I am not angry. It was my intention to introduce you both, but—”

“But it was awkward,” she finished for him.

He nodded.

“I like her a great deal,” she said after a moment.