It took us almost five minutes to make our way to the back doors and down the steps. I shook my head in wonder at the enormity of Shaldorn Castle. Thank goodness I’d worn practical shoes this morning.
Lady Ellen paused and turned to me. “I’m afraid autumn is not the best time of year to enjoy the gardens, but is there something you particularly enjoy? We have quite a variety.”
Put on the spot as I was, my mind went blank. “Well, um, I have always enjoyed hedgerows . . .” The ridiculousness of my statement was not lost on me, and I shot Hugh another disgruntled look. He winked at me when Lady Ellen looked the other direction.
As I predicted, Hugh extended his arm for Lady Ellen, and they took the lead, leaving Robert and me standing together awkwardly. “The gardens await,” I said with resignation, gesturing forward. He let out a heavy sigh, falling into step beside me.
Having little interest in our surroundings, I took a moment to study Robert, trying to guess what might be going through his mind. Heavy lines creased his forehead, and his normally warm green eyes appeared distant. This was not the Robert I knew. The thought of disappointing him, of being the cause of such an aggravated change in someone I cared so deeply for, caused a pinching sensation in my chest.
Taking note of my scrutiny, Robert gave a slight grunt, making a show of looking anywhere but at me.
There was little else to do but feign interest in the scenery. The gardens were more beautiful than I’d expected, given my distaste for stately parks. But after half an hour more of Robert’s prolonged silence, I yearned to be anywhere else. How could anyone prefer a garden, where everything looked just alike—hedgerows and shrubs and some very manicured rosebushes, all prim and proper and nothing out of place—to untamed land? Shaldorn Castle boasted miles of acreage, yet we were trapped on rigid pathways, all natural beauty out of sight.
With no conversation to occupy me, my mind soon went to Harry and the letter in my pocket. How I missed him, missed our time together. Only a few short months had passed since he’d left for Harrow, but to me it felt like years. I worried about him, especially since he’d sounded unhappy in his last letter. I missed long afternoons spent with him in the library, a book settled between us.
But thoughts of our library only brought me to dwell on the events of the night before. I tried helplessly to think of how I might have maintained more dignity in my conversation with the duke. Every so often I glanced up at the castle’s towers, wondering if I might catch a glimpse of him through one of the windows, until the realization struck me that with his bad knee, he probably could not climb so high. I pulled my bottom lip through my teeth and let out a little huff.
Robert remained silent, and after weeks of his coldness, my patience was growing thin. Up ahead, Hugh and Lady Ellen seemed to be finding enjoyment in one another’s company. I quickened my pace, leaving Robert behind, hoping to listen in and find some entertainment in their conversation.
Lady Ellen angled her head toward Hugh. “He is better now than he used to be. Right after his riding accident . . .” She shuddered. “It was a dark time for all of us.”
My breath caught. They must be speaking of the duke.
Hugh murmured a brief apology and waited for her to continue.
“Wait, Juliet,” Robert said, coming up behind me. “We need to speak.”
After all of his silence, of course he would want to speak now, just as Lady Ellen said something intriguing.
“Yes, yes.” I turned my focus to Robert only briefly, a wrinkle of frustration marring my goodwill after my many fruitless attempts to push past his rebuffs. I still strained my ears to hear the conversation taking place up ahead.
Lady Ellen’s voice drifted back to me. “For the first while, even after he’d healed, Halstead was withdrawn, almost comatose. Mother called in an army of doctors, frantic at his despondency, but he put off everything—even the things he once loved. Oh, it made sense that he wouldn’t ride, but he refused to sing or allow any company, he stopped attending parliament—”
“Juliet.” Robert’s voice grew more insistent.
I sighed. This would never do. No matter how ill-timed it seemed, nothing was more important than patching things up with Robert.
“We cannot go on this way,” he began as he caught up to walk beside me.
“I believe it is your behavior that has changed quite drastically, not mine.” I didn’t wish to be so pointed, but there seemed little way around it.
He shook his head. “I . . .” The heavy lines in his forehead now seemed almost sad, regretful. Our pace slowed.
I raised my brows but waited for him to go on. From up ahead I heard the duke mentioned again and itched to listen, but I forced my attention back to Robert.
He took in a breath, his mouth turned down. “I have been caught up thinking, and I’ve not known how to act around you.”
My gaze dropped to where my boots peeked out under the hem of my skirts. “You needn’t have been so harsh. I never wanted anything to come between us, least of all . . .” I looked up but couldn’t bring myself to mention his declaration of a few weeks before.
“I am sorry, Juliet. I was taken off guard. My feelings for you have been growing for some time, and I was certain you returned my affection. And now, seeing Hugh and Lady Ellen together . . . well, I suppose it made me a little jealous.” He ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. “I never expected . . .”
My stomach dropped as I saw the light of hope on his face. “Robert, I—”
“Don’t say no, Juliet.” He held up a hand. “Please, not yet. At least tell me you’ll consider what I said before. I know I surprised you when I declared myself, but surely, with the strength of our friendship, our years of growing up together, there is a chance it might grow into something more, if you’ll let it.”
Afraid he might say more, I quickly spoke up. “You are my dearest friend in the whole world, Robert. You’ll forgive me if I never—” I paused, frustrated with my inability to adequately express myself. “You’ve always been—” His face fell, and I stopped myself from saying what he had been to me these past nine years: a brother.
“Please, just think on it. That is all I ask.” His kindness softened my resolve. What could it hurt to give him time to adjust to the idea that there could only ever be friendship between us?
I pursed my lips, still hesitant. “I will, on one condition.”
He nodded, looking at me expectantly.
“That there will be no more of this wall between us.” I gestured to the space that separated him and me. “I can’t tell you how hurt I’ve been by your aloofness.” I eased out a breath, grateful to finally have a chance to voice the truth. “I’ve missed your friendship.”