The lady rewarded his canine joy with another baked good.

“Enough,” Val said tightly, and Myrtle’s smile instantly quavered and his dog went silent, staring at him with giant, accusatory eyes—sad ones.

I will not feel guilty . . . I will not feel guilty . . .

The mantra didn’t help. He was reminded once more in this lady’s presence, and in his curt response to her, that he was still capable of feeling remorse. Nay, of feeling anything.

It was why when he again spoke, he gentled his voice—as much as he was able—though the gruff quality still coated his tone. “You cannot be here.”

“Because we might be seen together?”

“Precise—”

“Because no one is here.”

“I have three servants here.” A fact which would send any proper lady running from fear of having her reputation ruined.

She blinked. “You do?”

“I do.”

“Oh.” She paused, wringing her hands. “My family, Val? They aren’t coming back.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Of course they are.” After all, they couldn’t simply . . . leave her here. A young lady, alone in London. “You think they’d just forget you.”

“I do,” she said quietly, giving a solemn little nod. “Because they did, Val. They sent me away to Mrs. Belden’s, and I’ve been gone so long that they just . . . forgot me.”

He shook his head, attempting to process that last statement from the lady.

“I was at a finishing school,” she explained, mistaking the reason for his stunned silence. “My parents sent me away there so that I could become a proper lady.”

It’d been a waste of funds and prayers and hopes on her family’s part. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying as much, discovering to some surprise he was still capable in some part of not offending.

The lady had not been tamed; in fact, he’d wager the solitude he coveted that not even God himself could have managed.

Myrtle stared at the tips of her toes, studying them intently, as if they contained answers as to where her family was. She was quieter than he’d ever recalled, quieter than he’d believed the noisy chit was even capable of.

He had a sudden inclination to pulverize her elder brothers and the father who’d failed to protect her.

“Of course they’re going to return,” he said gruffly a second time, offering up that reassurance. In the past, he’d have managed something more charming and reassuring. This was the best, however, he could manage after years out of practice. “They’ll return, and you’ll leave and join them for the Christmastide Season . . .”

And I’ll be alone . . .