Charlie eyed them both with confused amusement. “Ought I to be offended?”
Gillian shrugged. “Probably.”
He nodded. “Consider me horrified on my own behalf.”
“Though I risk disappointing you,” Gillian said to Mrs. Brownlow, “I will confess I don’t have any intention of searching for puppies.”
“Because you have given up?” Mrs. Brownlow asked. “Or because you have found one?”
Understanding suddenly filled Artemis’s face. Gillian clearly wasn’t entirely cured of her tendency to blush, but she didn’t mind. No one in this room, upon seeing her color up, would be unkind to her.
“Scott’s a good gun,” Charlie said. He, too, had sorted the actual topic of conversation.
“And he’s shockingly handsome too.” Mrs. Brownlow gave Gillian a very knowing look.
Scott was both. And somehow, he’d come to like her.Loveher, she was sure of it. Considering she almost never left Houghton Manor other than for the London Season and he never participated in the Season, their meeting had been rather miraculous.
And cruel fate was threatening to snatch away that miracle.
Artemis rose from her chair and crossed to stand in front of Gillian. “I’ve a longing to take a turn about the room. Will you join me?”
All the Huntresses knew Artemis to be a kind and loyal friend. They also knew from experience how to tell when a request from their kind and loyal friend was anything but optional.
Gillian stood. Artemis hooked their arms and moved with deceptively casual steps to the edge of the room. They began a slow circuit.
“How long have we known each other, Gillian?”
An odd question. “More than three years.”
“And in those more than three years, how often have I given you reason not to trust me?”
“Not even once.” Gillian didn’t know what to make of this line of questioning.
“Then please tell me what is weighing on you,” Artemis said. “I realize you are heartbroken at being separated from Scott, but there is something more. I can see it in your eyes.”
Artemis always had been very observant. It had been a difficult thing for Gillian to keep her father’s employment a secret from her friend for so long.
“I realize you are hesitant to trust people,” Artemis continued as they slowly walked along the edge of the room. “But I am also rather shockingly stubborn, especially if I think thatstubbornness will benefit the people I care about. And, Gillian, I care about you. You were my very first—”
“Huntress.” Gillian nodded.
“No. My very first friend.” Remembered sadness flickered through Artemis’s green eyes. “I grew up too isolated for making friendships. By the time I made my bows and began participating in the Season, my family’s standing and my brother-in-law’s well-earned reputation for being terrifying had made me something of a legend.” Artemis didn’t mention that her shocking beauty played a role in that as well, though she likely realized as much. “Legends are often lonely. Until we became friends, I felt very much alone.”
“So did I,” Gillian said. “I still do sometimes. Often, in fact.”
“You are not alone in this moment, and I am pleading with you to trust me.”
They walked past one of the tall windows, too dark outside for the garden to be seen. Yet something about knowing it was there bolstered Gillian’s courage.
“Scott and I realized in the moments before I left Thimbleby that there is an additional obstacle to a future between us beyond the state of his inheritance.” Gillian took a lung-cleansing breath. “My father.”
“You’ve never said much about him,” Artemis said. “I know what it is to have a difficult connection with one’s father, so I chose not to press.”
Gillian had always appreciated that. “He’s not dead, though many people have assumed he is.”
Artemis kept their arms hooked and walked on with her, giving no indication she meant to interrupt.
“He also doesn’t live abroad, as others have assumed. In fact, he—he lives at Houghton Manor.”