“The gentleman who showed a shocking familiarity to you?”

Alas, with how this day had gone, she should have expected her brother would make her speak about Val.

“He is our neighbor.” She shrugged. “That is all.”

Only that wasn’t all. He was Val, a man who’d urged her to find her happiness, and who’d helped her to see what she wanted in life, and it was him, and—

“That is all?” her brother drawled. “Do you want to tell me why our neighbor is going about calling you by your given name?”

“He helped me these past days,” she said softly. “He showed me the same kindness he would have shown any other person.”

Myrtle felt him probing her with his gaze. “You’re certain nothing untoward happened? Because the gentleman seemed very concerned for—”

“You’re making something of nothing,” she cut him off impatiently. A tear fell. “He’s as worried about all the other passengers, is he not?” She swiped a hand in the direction of the scene outside.

“Ah, but he didn’t come thundering for any of them, calling them by their given name.” Her brother caught her hands in his and squeezed them. “I’m not going to go about expecting you to marry the fellow because of . . . whatever transpired these past days when you were alone,” he said, his tone faintly chiding.

“Nothing happened.”

Dallin searched his gaze over her face as if he sought the veracity of that assurance.

In a way, though, she spoke the truth.

For everything had happened. Mayhap if she’d still a relationship with him and her other siblings, she might have spoken about it. She might have shared just how desperately and hopelessly she loved Val. Her family members, however, were strangers to her in so many ways.

Unlike Val. Val had been the first person in such a long time whom she’d been able to speak freely with and to, and the fact that she’d not have that time with him again ripped her heart in two.

“I am so sorry.” When her brother spoke, his voice was thick with emotion she’d never heard from him.

For a moment she believed he’d gathered the true nature of her relationship with Val, and the regret he spoke of was over the pain of her losing him.

Nay, she’d not lost him. She’d never had him. And that hurt the worst of all.

“We each assumed you were in one of the other carriages,” her brother said quietly. “And then we were separated by a storm, and it wasn’t until the last conveyance arrived at Spynie that we realized our . . . mistake.”

Their mistake.

Of course. This was what they’d speak about. This was the reason he believed her to be distraught. It was the safe assumption, for so many reasons.