Page 23 of For The Love Of A Widow

Why hadn’t her fatigue been as evident when he’d collected her from The George?

“And they started after Gregory passed?” Daniel didn’t want to mention the man’s name, did not want the ghost of her dead husband invading their private moment; however, it was Gregory’s fault that Lettie suffered so. If he’d never met her, never made her fall in love with him, never married her and whisked her away to war-torn areas, she would not be plagued with horrible dreams now. She would not be pining away for a man who was long buried.

And maybe, Daniel would have found his own happiness and not fallen into disgrace.

Thankfully, his carriage turned onto St. James and continued down the street barely wide enough for two carriages to pass. It was then that Lettie stiffened, finally noticing that they’d turned off the main street leading toward the popular Bond Street shopping area and onto the street that housed the Linwood family townhouse—his home.

“Where are we going?” she feigned ignorance, but her eyes immediately looked down the street and settled on the brick façade of Daniel’s house.

“I thought you’d relish a few moments in a familiar spot—one without the ever present watchfulness of the duchess.” Daniel fell silent as this coachman did exactly as he’d bid, turning onto the narrow lane that would lead to the alley bordering the back of the Linwood property were a small grove of plum trees blocked the view from outsiders, including the Linwood servants. “I know it is highly improper, but I thought we could spend a bit of time here before your meeting with the modiste.”

He stopped himself from reminding Lettie of the solace she’d found in his family gardens when her mother’s ranting became too much to bear; however, the softening of her stare told him he’d made the correct decision.

“You always found peace here,” Daniel muttered, keeping a close watch on her, prepared to command his coachman to drive on if their destination did not please her.

“And silence…” She spoke barely above a whisper, and if he hadn’t been paying such close attention to her, Daniel would have missed her words. “It was the silence I loved most.”

“You are welcome to come any time it suits you.” The carriage came to a stop at the stone wall separating his property from the common alley. Odd, but he came here for the complete opposite reasons as Lettie. She came for peace and solitude, while Daniel came in hopes of finding Lettie and a few brief moments of witty conversation, jests, and tree climbing. They’d laughed, they’d played, and they’d enjoyed time as a young woman and man—not a future duke and duchess with unlimited responsibilities and the welfare of others hanging about their necks, weighing them down. “That is if you desire it.”

She turned, and a pained expression settled on her face, before she gave him a small smile. “It is very kind of you, Daniel, to remember.” Her mouth moved to a frown. “But I find the quiet is not to my liking anymore.”

“Then we shall climb trees and swing from one branch to the next, like we used to when we were children.” Daniel flung the carriage door wide and departed, holding his hand for her to take. “Come, Lettie, let us climb to the highest branch and yelp as loud as we dare!”

She shook her head but her grin returned, with only a hint of the melancholy she’d shrouded herself in before. “I do not think it proper to climb trees nor scream, but I would very much enjoy a walk in the grove.”

Taking his hand, she stepped down from the carriage. Daniel tucked her hand into the crook of his arm before setting off for the wooden gate that led to the back of his property, shielded from view of the house by the ancient plum trees.

“Agreed, no climbing and no shouting.” He made an X over his chest as they walked through the unlocked gate and into the overgrown foliage of their long ago special spot. “What about a game of chase the weasel?”

She let out a light laugh at the memories of the game they’d concocted during their childhood. “You know well and good that I was always faster than you.”

“Yes, but I fear those heavy skirts weigh far more than the ankle-length frocks you wore as a child.” He raised his brow at her in challenge. “There is no conceivable way you could best me now.”

“Mayhap I have no need to best you.” Her smile fled once more, and Daniel sensed her slipping away from him again. He was uncertain where her mind traveled to, but he’d noted this occurring her first day in London. There was nothing Daniel longed for more than to keep her here, solidly with him and not in the past. “Tell me, Daniel, what have you been doing since I departed London?”

Imbibing too much. Thinking too little.

And making an utter mess of his life as he applied himself to filling his days with people, activities, and things that hadn’t mattered.

Until that fateful Christmastide morning, that is.

But Daniel would not share any of that ugliness with her. Lettie had seen enough, experienced far more than a gently bred woman should in her short lifetime. He would speak of the last nine months. A time he was proud of.

“I have been learning estate management from your father,” he confided. “Things I should have learned in my youth from my own father. But, alas, I’d thought there would always be more time, another day with him present to learn all I needed.”

“That is certainly something I understand.”

They fell silent as their slow progress through the grove brought them to the edge of the trees. If they traversed a few more paces, they’d be visible from the back terrace of his townhouse.

Easily, he turned them about to face back toward the alley and their waiting carriage.

Daniel wasn’t ready to share Lettie just yet—nor return to his carriage.

Could he stall a few more minutes?

“My how the trees have grown!” She halted before a particularly thick, tall tree and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun overhead. “I truly cannot believe we once climbed these things—without a broken bone or scratch resulting.”

Daniel took in the sheer size of the trees, as well. They’d grown, their fruit falling from their limbs, and new saplings taking root. As some trees aged and decayed, others grew tall and strong to take their place.