“Bess,” said the man, suddenly plunging towards the thoughts that lay close about his heart.
Being slightly ahead, she hung back and waited, with her eyes at gaze on the deeps of the woods.
“I spoke to Isaac Grimshaw about you last night,” he continued, watching the play of the sunlight upon her face.
“About me?”
“Yes, and Dan, your cousin.”
Bess’s eyes darkened and she pouted out her lips. Her walk seemed more spirited, the carriage of her head more rebellious at the mention of Dan’s name.
“I told your uncle that Barbara Gladden, my butler’s wife, could give you a home at Rodenham—”
“At Rodenham!”
“Yes. If—”
“If?”