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better than to do such a thing.
    “Perhaps ye should speak with him,” Mrs. Larson suggested. “He’s outside now, talking with Mr. MacKinloch.”
    Her first instinct was to refuse. Yet… what if he
had
said something to the others? She’d thought she’d made herself clear the last time, but perhaps it was time to put any thoughts of marriage firmly out of Paul Fraser’s head.
    She borrowed a shawl from the housekeeper and added, “I’ll be back within an hour.”
    Mrs. Larson nodded her approval. “Be assured, I won’t be telling Lady Lanfordshire about where ye’ve gone, if that’s what you’re fearing. Be careful, won’t ye?” Juliette nodded, already moving outside the bedroom while the housekeeper followed. “I suppose ye’ll find him if you’re quick about it.”
    Juliette slipped down the stairs and toward the front door. Just as Mrs. Larson had said, she saw Dr. Fraser with Mr. MacKinloch. The two men were arguing, and though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, there was no mistaking the anger. She frowned, wondering what their disagreement was. The two men parted, Dr. Fraser moving toward the stables while Mr. MacKinloch went to join the crofters who were setting up tents upon the duke’s land.
    She waited a few moments, uncertain of whether to approach. It was so late at night, and he might mistake her intentions. Behind her, she heard her mother’s voice, and the door opened.
    Before Beatrice could see her, Juliette fled toward the stable in the cover of darkness. For a moment, she stood at the door, calming the rapid beat of her heart. There was no reason to be apprehensive about speaking to Paul.
    She found him standing beside the horses. The scent of smoke mingled with the animal odors, and she stepped inside. Paul’s hair was wild, a dark tangle cropped above his ears. His coat hung open, and he’d rolled up his sleeves. At the moment, he was brushing one of the horses, as if to indulge in a mindless activity.
    “Thank you for trying to put out the fire,” she began, not knowing how else to begin. The words she’d rehearsed earlier, of allthe reasons why he needed to walk away from their friendship, caught in her throat and would not come forth.
    “I was glad to help.” Paul didn’t turn toward her but kept his gaze fixed upon the horses. For a long minute, the awkward moment expanded until she thought about leaving again.
    “You stopped answering my letters last year,” he said, finally facing her. With each step he drew closer, her guilt intensified. “You haven’t written me in months. Not even when I asked you to marry me.”
    This was it, then. The chance she’d wanted, to discourage him from considering anything further. “It didn’t seem right.”
    For it wasn’t. No words would undo her mistakes, nor breach the distance between them. She’d paid the postage to accept every letter he’d sent… but she couldn’t bring herself to open the more recent ones. His previous letters about medical school, and the loneliness she’d sensed in his words, had been a blade against her scarred heart. He was looking to her for friendship, and as the years had gone by, his letters had offered more. He’d bared his dreams to her, asking her to wed him when he returned.
    But she was a ruined woman with another man’s son. Never could she confess the truth to him. And so, it was easier to bind up the letters and put them away unread.
    “I’ll wait until you give me the answer I want to hear,” he said solemnly.
    Then he would be waiting an eternity. It would be a kindness to tell him no, to do as she’d intended, and assure him that there would never be a marriage with him.
    But not tonight. It would be easier to sever the ties when she went back to London. Then, at least, she would not have to face him.
    Juliette struggled to think of what to say next, and offered the only question she could: “Who do you think set the fire?” She still wondered if one of Strathland’s