Page 71 of The Moonstone Governess
She nodded. “I agree. One must be sensible about these things. Especially men in your position, titled and wealthy, who have only to tip their head and women will come running.”
Daire paused amid the sea of red petals. “There haven’t been women for either of us, Brenna. Jax is serious, and so am I.”
“What are you serious about, Your Grace?”
“Daire.” He took her gently by the shoulders. “Notwhat, butwho. You, of course. Have I not been clear about it?”
“Actually, you have not. In truth, you constantly leave me in confusion.” She surprised him by drawing out of his grasp. “Is this some game you two are now playing? Lord Bradford intent on seducing Felicity and your having set your trap for me? Do you think we are easy marks because we are approaching spinsterhood? Let me assure you, Felicity and I are not sad, desperately unhappy women. We are quite content with our lot.”
“The thought never crossed my mind. You are both too beautiful and clever, and have likely been fending off beaus for years. As for me and Jax, if you consider marriage a trap, then yes, we have set our traps for you and Felicity.”
She regarded him warily. “Marriage? You are suggesting this is not a game for either of you?”
“I did not think I had been particularly secretive about my intentions. I’m sure the entire village is waiting for me to say something to you.”
Her expression softened. “Are you saying it now?”
Daire swallowed hard. “I hadn’t intended to.”
Her smile faltered. “I see.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Blast it, Brenna. I did not intend to have this conversation with you at this time.”
“I understand. A man in your position… A girl in mine. How can it ever be right?”
“That’s just it—it can be. Everything already feels easy and natural with you. Give me time, will you? I’m fairly certain I already know where my heart will lead me. But as you’ve acknowledged, I am a duke, and a wealthy one at that. No, it is coming out all wrong. You never cared about my wealth or title. You sought to know me. But I am a mess inside.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, her smile returning as they walked on through the field. “I care about you, as you have probably guessed. Very much. As you said, it is not because of your title or the careless way you toss your coins about. Actually, I find this spendthrift habit of yours quite irritating.”
He laughed. “It gets me what I want, and I can easily afford it. I am not a spendthrift. How can I be when I know exactly where every farthing is spent? I am fully aware and completely in control of why and where each coin goes.”
“Daire,” she said softly. “Is this not exactly the problem? In truth, I am worried about you.”
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Why are you worried?”
“Seeing Matthew has helped me to understand you better.”
“Is that so?” His heart began to beat faster. He was not certain he was ready to have her probe so deeply into his soul. But was this not Brenna? Inquisitive, determined, and compassionate to a fault? She wanted to love him and to save him.
Did he not need saving?
She nodded. “Yes, quite so. He is a little boy and therefore has not learned to hide his fears. They are open to be seen by all. But you, as a man, have learned to hide yours very well. You are completely Matthew on the inside.”
He growled. “I do not have fears.”
“Everyone does, and you are no exception. You are afraid to ever let anyone into your heart because those who should have loved you and protected you were the very ones who always hurt you. Were you raised as cruelly? Never mind, I know the answer.”
“What has Juliana told you?”
She cast him a wry smile. “Probably too much, to your way of thinking. She agonizes over you and still regrets being unable to save your brother. It haunts her to this day.”
“There was nothing she could do about Morgan then, and there is nothing she can do about him now. My brother is dead. He could have saved himself at one time, but he did not. He could have treated Matthew decently, but he did not. Do not waste a tear over my brother. He was never worth it.”
She gave him a worried look. “You think you are like him, don’t you?”
“We are of the same blood. We received the same beatings from the same father. We look so much alike that Matthew cannot look at me without thinking I am his father come to beat him again. How are we different?”
“Your strength and spirit were never the same. You were always stronger, Daire. You were always kinder.”
