Page 37 of Reforming Lord Neil

“It was my husband’s. I have no use for it now. But you said you preferred being shaved to bearded.”

He shook his head. “I cannot take it, Mrs. Clapham.” He lifted the pouch to her again. “I will see to my own needs.”

Teresa stared at the pouch, and tears pricked at her eyes most unexpectedly. “I wish you would use it. You may not understand, but I only want to show my gratitude for all you have done. At least borrow it, while you are here. When you leave, I will take it back.”

He lowered his hand. “Is that why you disliked my kiss so much? The beard?” he asked, his tone too low and sorrowful to truly count the comment as teasing.

Teresa’s gaze shot up to his, seeing the curiosity in his eyes, the wrinkle in his forehead. Speaking of that moment would do neither of them any good. But she would be lying to herself if she pretended it had not happened, for she had thought on nothing else all day. At the memory of his touch, her lips tingled, and her heart twisted.

“I—” She started, then stopped. Then tried again. “I did not dislike it. But I cannot repeat it. Or allow my thoughts to linger upon it. I am a poor widow, Mr. Duncan.”

Teresa wrapped her arms about herself, trying to hold herself together. Did she owe him an explanation? The man had admitted to a flirtation with a married woman in the past. How many women had there been in his life? Women who would see nothing in a token so small as a kiss, women who might well go to greater lengths to experience pleasure without consequence.

He brushed his free hand through his hair, averting his eyes. “I thought, with the way you have looked at me at times…”

Mortification made her cheeks burn. “You know well enough what I think about your looks. But this is my fault. I am certain I must have encouraged you. I loved my husband, very much. His memory is precious to me, despite what his decisions have done to our family.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And I am lonely. I miss what it meant to belong to someone that way.” Teresa’s fingers flexed against her shoulders, hating the pain she heard in the admission. “But I cannot allow myself to give way to such feelings. I have a reputation to maintain, a daughter to raise, and my own self-respect to look after. Do you understand?”

His voice was softer than before. “I believe I do.”

Teresa relaxed, finally opening her eyes. His expression had closed, and it gave away nothing of his feelings. “As I have said, I know you are a compassionate man. I hope we can continue on, as friends.”

“As friends.” He nodded, then opened the stall door, standing aside for her to exit. “Thank you for your help with the dog.”

As Teresa left the barn, having said all she wished, she wondered why she did not feel better than when she had entered the building.

Mr. Duncan understood her feelings at last. He had treated her with respect and understanding and would continue to do so.

“Then why,” she whispered to her empty bedroom upon entering it, “do I feel that I have lost something?”

Chapter Sixteen

Another branch fell with a crack, causing Neil to wince. He looked down and over, to where Caroline sat in the sunshine with the dog in her lap, and the kitten pouncing on small insects nearby. The little girl was reading her sonnets out loud to the dog in an attempt to keep the animal calm.

She looked up, saw Neil watching, and waved. Her bright smile made his shoulders relax. He had tried to leave the dog in the stall, but the animal had whined and yipped until he let her out to follow him. But she did not like the crack of the tree branches falling. Thankfully, Caroline’s arrival had soothed the agitated animal.

“What should we name her?” Caroline asked from where she sat, one arm full of gray dog and the other holding her book. “We can’t keep calling her ‘dog.’”

They certainly could. “Pick something you like,” Neil called back, then turned to the next branch.

He had beaten back his disappointment over Teresa’s rejection for the better part of the night, and most of the morning.

Teresa had no intention of allowing anything more affectionate than friendship between them. That sounded about right for Neil. Not that he had been offering a great deal more than flirtation. Or the mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. He had not, he told himself firmly, dreamed up any plans of becoming emotionally or physically entangled with Teresa Clapham.

Merely looking at her, with her high-necked work dresses, spotless aprons, and kind eyes, was enough for a man to know she would countenance nothing but the sincerest of courtships. Neil had only attempted to court a woman once in his life, and she had happily strung him along until an heir to an earldom showed interest.

Another branch fell, and it was time to move on to the next tree.

Neil went down the ladder, saw in hand, and walked to the next cherry tree in need of attention. He climbed back up, his memory turning back to that horrid courtship. He had been twenty-three years old. Twelve long years had passed since that rejection, and his family’s subsequent mockery.

His elder brothers had thought it a great joke that Neil had considered himself any kind of catch. Without their father’s funds, he had nothing of his own. Lord Brunfield and then-Lieutenant Duncan had made it quite clear no woman would want him unless she already had a well-feathered nest.

Neil finished off another limb of the tree, wiped the sweat from his brow, and went back down to the ground. That task done, he started gathering branches into a heap. As they were dead or diseased, burning them in the house would not be a good idea until they were well dried. He needed to cut them into smaller pieces, stack them beneath the shelter of an eave, and find his next task.

Caroline stood and followed him, the dog on her heels, and cat pouncing along behind.

Despite his foul mood, Neil smiled when he saw the merry parade. Despite the circumstances of Caroline’s childhood, she was a cheerful girl.

If he had found a woman to marry, back when he still thought someone might have him, he might have a child Caroline’s age. Of course, that child would be at school most of the year. Not following him about, even during holidays, because he would be in a study or elsewhere managing a wife’s estate.