Page 15 of Yours Always
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The Westons’ stables were blessedly quiet that afternoon, filled with the low creak of weathered wood, the scent of hay and dust, and the soft rustle of horses shifting in their stalls. Matthew leaned against a stall door, absently stroking Stella’s neck. His posture was casual, easy, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the lie.
He had finished his business with Robert nearly an hour ago but couldn’t quite bring himself to leave. There was something calming about the low sounds of the horses and the easy familiarity of the stables, something that kept him grounded when the world outside was beginning to shift.
Across the aisle, Benjamin leaned against a beam, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of quiet patience that only came from knowing exactly what was wrong before a word was spoken. “So,” Benjamin said at last, his voice light with forced innocence, “the Duke came calling this morning.”
Matthew didn’t look up. His hand moved in a steady rhythm along the mare’s mane. “I heard.” Benjamin let out a low laugh. “Considering you’ve been sulking like a cat thrown out in the rain, I figured you had.”
“I don’t sulk,” Matthew said mildly. “No,” Benjamin agreed, “you just brood attractively in corners. It’s very dignified.” Matthew attempted to laugh, but it fell flat. Benjamin’s smile softened and the teasing gentled. “He asked to court her.”
“I thought he might.” Matthew’s voice was soft, but his jaw tightened. Benjamin didn’t answer, he simply waited. Matthewleaned both arms on the stall door, staring into the golden dust drifting in the sunlight. “I have loved her for as long as I can remember,” he said quietly. The weight of the words he had never allowed himself to say out loud lifted from his chest. “I thought if I gave her time, gave her space, she might come to see it on her own.” His fingers stilled against Stella’s neck. “I never wanted her to feel like I was laying claim.” Benjamin’s gaze narrowed. “You could never make her feel that way, Matty.”
“I couldn’t be sure,” Matthew said, eyes fixed on the dust swirling in the air. “If I said something too soon, if I spoke when she wasn’t ready, I might lose her completely. I would rather be at her side as her friend, always, than risk never being near her again.”
Benjamin crossed his arms tighter. “And if she chooses him?” Matthew looked up toward the slats in the rafters, the late sun streaking through like quiet threads of gold. “Then she chooses him,” he said. “And I will step aside. I will be whatever she needs, even if that is nothing at all.”
For a long moment, the only sounds were the horses’ slow breathing and the faint creak of the stable roof settling. Benjamin pushed off the post and crossed the aisle, clapping Matthew on the shoulder with a bit more strength than seemed necessary. “You are a fool,” he said, though the warmth in his smile softened the words. “A noble one, but still a fool.”
Matthew arched a brow, biting back a defense he couldn’t shape into words. Spoken aloud it wouldn’t sound noble, it would sound like fear dressed as duty, and a weakness he wasn’t ready to admit. Benjamin continued, his voice softening, trying to walk the delicate line between brother and best friend. “The Duke is a good man. No question. He has a title, a future laid out before him like a map. Everything a family like ours is supposed to want.” He paused, his voice settling deeper. “But you have loved her since she was a wild little thing with ribbons flying outof her hair. You have seen every version of her, and you have never looked away.”
Matthew smiled faintly. “Don’t be fooled. She still has ribbons flying out of her hair.” Benjamin met Matthew’s gaze and for once, there was no trace of humor, only the quiet weight of the truth. “The Duke may seem fitting in every proper sense, but you...” His eyes stayed locked on Matthew’s. “In all the ways that truly matter…it has always been you.”
They stood for a beat longer, nothing but the warm hush of the stables between them. Then Benjamin tipped his head toward the open barn doors, where the sunlight lay across the courtyard like an invitation. “Just something to think about, old friend.”
And with that, he walked out into the afternoon light, his boots scuffing softly on the packed earth. Matthew didn’t follow. He stayed where he was, hand resting on the mare’s withers, gaze fixed on the line of light across the floor. In the silence left behind, a single truth remained: He had always loved her. The question now was whether he had the courage to tell her before it was too late.
Chapter 10
May 1854
Edenfield - London, England
The late Spring breezestirred the tall grass along the riding trail, brushing soft fingers through budding wildflowers and sending cotton tufts drifting lazily across the fields behind Edenfield. Matthew tightened the reins in his gloved hands guiding Gideon along the path. Benjamin and Sarah galloped ahead with reckless ease laughing, entirely unbothered by the world behind them.
She was different here than she was with the Duke. She seemed smaller somehow whenever he entered the room. Matthew wasn’t sure she even noticed it, but he did. Over the past week, he’d watched it happen again and again; her voice softening, her words shifting, her hands going still the moment she took The Duke’s arm. But through it all, she smiled a careful, practiced smile. It was never for him, it was always meant for the Duke.
Grace’s laughter pulled Matthew from his thoughts as she urged her horse past him. “Come along, Mr. Fenwick!” she called over her shoulder, casting him a grin. “If you ride much slower, you’ll start going backwards.” Matthew nudged Gideon into a canter, catching up easily. Grace slowed once he reached her side, her eyes locked on his, the look far too knowing.
They rode in companionable silence for a time, the sun warm at their backs, the air thick with the scent of crushed grass, wild thyme, and chimney smoke drifting faintly from the kitchen hearth. Edenfield disappeared behind them, shrinking into memory. Ahead, the fields stretched wide and wild like freedom, or the illusion of it, depending on how one looked.
At the crest of a low hill, Grace drew her horse to a halt. Below, Benjamin and Sarah had reached a crooked tree at the edge of the wood. Even from a distance, it was clear they were arguing—likely about whether or not one of them should climb it.
Grace brushed a loose strand from her cheek, then turned toward Matthew with a look so direct in its clarity, that he tensed without meaning to. “You know,” she said lightly, “it’s a curious thing. For a man who’s always been so quick to act, you’ve grown rather hesitant.” Matthew gave a dry laugh, eyes on the fields. “Hesitant? No. Careful, maybe.” Grace tilted her head. “No, Matty. You’re scared.”
He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. His hands tightened slightly on the reins. “You’re afraid,” she said gently, “that if you tell her how you feel, she’ll choose him anyway.” The words landed too close to the truth.
“And worse,” Grace continued, softer now, “you’re afraid that if she does choose you, that you will be the reason she gives up all he has to offer.” The Duke. The man with the title, wealth, and the quiet dignity of someone who had nothing to prove. He was everything Matthew couldn’t give her. “I can’t be the reasonshe gives up everything,” he said. “Not when I have so little to offer her in return.” Grace’s expression softened, but her voice stayed steady. “You have no idea what you offer her.”
Matthew looked away, jaw tight and shoulders set, but Grace nudged her horse a little closer forcing him to meet her eyes. “You and Sarah have been circling each other for as long as I can remember. You can’t rewrite the truth just because it’s inconvenient. You don’t get to pretend it isn’t there just because it doesn’t fit.”
“She is happy with him,” Matthew said, though even he didn’t quite believe it. “Is she?” Grace asked quietly. “Or is she trying to convince herself that she should be?” The breeze lifted again, stirring the tall grass and sending a hush across the field as the question settled between them.
“I love you both,” Grace said. “And I won’t choose sides. But watching two people who belong to each other destroy themselves out of fear and pride?” Her voice wavered just slightly. “It’s breaking my heart.” Matthew scrubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “You always were the bossy one.” Grace smiled faintly, “Only when I’m right.” He let out a breath that could have been a laugh, if only he had been able to feel it in his heart.
“You don’t need a grand gesture,” Grace said, her voice gentle but sure. “No sweeping declarations. No hero on a white horse, like in those novels Mrs. Weston always tried to keep us from sneaking off the shelves…” Matthew chuckled softly as he met Graze’s gaze again, steady, kind and filled with the kind of strength he wished he felt. “...but you need to tell her the truth,” she said. “Because whatever you think she deserves, she deserves that.”
She prompted her horse forward, “If you keep waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll miss it.” She turned to call over hershoulder as she rode towards Sarah and Benjamin, still waiting at the bottom of the hill.
