Page 61 of Reforming Lord Neil

Sir Isaac, standing at attention, bowed to her again. “Mrs. Clapham, it was our pleasure to be of assistance.”

“I am well enough aware of what it is like to feel as though no help is coming,” Lady Fox said with firmness. “I am only glad that Lord Neil wrote to me and explained the situation. Thank goodness it all turned out for the best.”

Teresa looked up at Neil, and he found himself smiling back at her. He tucked her arm through his, resting his hand upon hers. “There is no one so deserving of a miracle as you, my dear.”

Sir Isaac coughed suddenly, and his wife abruptly cleared her throat, slanting her husband a disapproving glare.

Perhaps Neil had grown too relaxed, showing his hand in such a way that someone such as Sir Isaac had caught on. With some reluctance, Neil released Teresa and stepped back toward the mantel, pretending interest in the clock that sat upon it. Teresa and Lady Fox engaged in conversation, which he pointedly ignored.

There was no reason to cause speculation, even among people who may never set eyes upon Teresa again after that night. Her reputation was important to him, and his continued affection for her would complicate matters if he did not get it under control.

But how Neil wished he could reveal the whole of his heart to her, without fear of rejection. He had nothing to offer her. Nothing at all. Teresa had the ability to do as she pleased, at last, and did not even need to rely upon his help.

He had been away from his family longer than he once expected. The marquess would not relent, perhaps ever, giving Neil no funds or position to offer a woman. Which meant he would be reliant upon himself to earn a living, and his current employment, his food and shelter, all came from Teresa.

She had the funds to hire help. To move entirely away from the farm, should she wish. Though he depended upon her, as he had at the beginning of their arrangement, she no longer depended upon him. There was nothing he could offer her. Nothing but his love for her. For a woman as beautiful, kind, and compassionate as she, it was not enough. He was not enough.

Neil stared at the face of the clock, suddenly wondering exactly how much time he would have left with the woman he loved before he had to give her up forever.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Inglewood carriage waited outside for Teresa and Neil early the next morning. They would not need to stop for the night, this time, though the driver and groom would change out the horses halfway through the journey. Teresa’s excitement over seeing her mother and daughter, and sharing her incredible news with them, was only tempered by her nervousness at spending six hours alone in a carriage with Neil.

If she did not mind her actions, she knew her feelings might well reveal themselves.

Lord and Lady Inglewood saw them off, with their son in Lord Inglewood’s arms. Teresa thanked them once more and promised to write Lady Inglewood to continue their friendship.

Once the carriage door swung shut, and the driver flicked the reins, Teresa leaned into the corner of the vehicle and released a long-held sigh.

Neil sat across from her, in the same clothing he had worn to court. Not as fine as a lord would usually wear, but a perfect match for her subdued wardrobe. Taking his hat off, Neil tossed it onto the seat beside him and stretched his legs diagonally across the floor.

“Home in six hours,” he said.

Home? Did he think of Bramble Cottage as home? No, of course not. Most likely he had only meant he understood what she felt. As pleasant as her stay in the house had been, having servants to wait upon her, the lack of things to do to keep herself busy had nearly driven her mad.

The pianoforte had been wonderful. Perhaps she ought to purchase one for the cottage. If they remained at the cottage. It was not precisely fair for her to make the decision on a whim, without conversation or planning. Even if the cottage had become home.

Neil’s low chuckle brought her out of her thoughts. “I cannot recall ever seeing a simple statement cause such abrupt brooding.”

“Pardon me.” Teresa folded her hands in her lap. “I am not certain I will be good company today. I cannot stop thinking about the changes I can make, yet I know it would be imprudent to do anything before the money is in my hands.”

“One can always dream, Teresa.” He had not called her that before the others, and so she had not heard her name from his lips in days. Hearing it now caused her heart to flutter.

“I have not dreamed in a very long time. I am afraid I am out of practice.” Teresa untied her bonnet ribbons and removed her hat, putting it on the bench beside her. “I do not know where to start.”

“Where do you wish to live?”

She laughed, without much humor. “I would think that is the most complicated question.” Teresa bit her bottom lip.

His eyes softened, and his tone became coaxing. “Not at all. We are speaking of dreams, not what you will do for certain. If you could live anywhere, from a house on Mayfair to a hovel in Northumbria, where would you live?”

Teresa closed her eyes, smiling and preparing to describe a palace in Austria. Instead, she thought of the cliffs high above the crashing waves of the North Sea. And her cherry trees, blossoming and filling the air with sweet scents.

True, there were the less enjoyable scents of the barn when it needed cleaning. Her nose wrinkled at all of those memories. And yet… Abigail’s sweetness, and thinking of Caroline dancing in the loft made all her memories glow golden.

“My farm,” Teresa said quietly. “I would stay there. Make improvements, of course, to the cottage. Some to the land. But it has been such a place of peace for my family.” She focused her gaze upon him and saw the way he looked at her. His eyebrows were drawn together, not in disapproval, given the way he smiled. He did not seem at all surprised by what she said.

She ought to have been uncomfortable beneath such a knowing look in a man’s eyes, but instead she laughed. “What would you have me say instead? That I should like to live in Bath, at a fashionable address? I know no one of fashion anymore, and I have no desire to impress my own importance or lack thereof upon anyone.”