Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 15

Risin Hall finally came into view after a long, difficult summer. Seeing her home through the carriage window caused a lump of emotion to form in Winnie’s throat even though she had never been particularly attached to it. She had longed for this moment since the day they left London straight for the Harcourts’ home.

No, Winnie did not assign any special meaning to material things, even the home she had grown up in. It had never felt much like a home to her, especially after experiencing a home like Attwood Manor. At least Risin Hall would be free of Dalton Harcourt.

Winnie chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to banish him from her mind for the thousandth time—always unsuccessful. The memory of their departure just a few days ago forced itself to the forefront. She had only given Dalton a very quick and courteous goodbye in the foyer of his home. She had thought that she had seen a flicker of concern in his eyes when he bent over her offered hand, his lips barely brushing her knuckles. Her bruised heart had leapt at the thought that he just might stop her.

Dalton had let her go. Thus, Winnie arrived back home after the longest four months of her life. He really did not need her after all, if it was so easy to let her walk away.

Guilt clawed at Winnie’s stomach. She knew she had given him no indication that she even wanted him to prevent her from leaving. In fact, she had not realized until that moment that she wanted him to reach out and grasp her wrist, to spin her around to face him again.

Winnie could see it in her mind’s eye so vividly that it might have been a memory. She pulled her attention away from the window, glancing around the carriage. Her parents sat across from her, each immersed in their own books. Warren sat beside her, propped up by the wall of the carriage, deep asleep.

Dalton had let her go, and Winnie had let him go.

As those now familiar, irritating tears welled up in her eyes again, Winnie prayed that the carriage would go faster down the long driveway. She needed to get out of this cramped space. She needed to be alone so she could come undone in peace and quiet.

Winnie had spent the entire journey, several long days, barely keeping herself together, trying to be that immovable rock she had been for so long—before she had met Dalton, truly met him.

The carriage finally stopped. Winnie nearly barreled over the footman who tried to help her down. She hurried to the other side of the carriage just as Warren emerged, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“My dear, I did not sleep as well as you on the journey, so I must go upstairs and take a nap,” she informed him quickly, smoothing down his tousled hair.

He nodded. “Can we read together after?” he asked groggily. “Will you do voices like Mr. Patrick?”

“Certainly,” Winnie agreed through tight lips.

She had nothing against Mr. Patrick, but even he was a reminder of Dalton. Even Caroline and dear Mrs. Waynford and Miss Harriet and the wonderfully kind Lord and Lady Welsted were reminders.

As she rushed into the house, not bothering to inform Mr. and Mrs. Thirley of her plans, knowing they would not care, Winnie idly wondered how she would feel when she received letters from Dalton’s sisters. How long would the memories she had made with those lovely ladies sting, simply because they shared family bonds with the man who had broken her?

Winnie did not stop to appreciate the home she had once longed to return to. She flew up the stairs, mumbling greetings to the servants who welcomed her back. She did not care about her terribly improper behavior when her heart threatened to bleed out for all to see.

Like a temperamental little girl—a girl Winnie had never been—she flung herself onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow. She could not believe that Dalton had turned her into this sentimental mess. Life had been so much easier when she was convinced that she did not care for others’ opinions. She had protected herself within her fortress of virtuous and respectable living, even though it made her a cold-hearted shell.

Yet, somehow, as Winnie quietly cried into her pillow, she realized that this pain felt so different to any other she had ever experienced. It felt alive. She had felt alive with Dalton—and she missed it so terribly.

Without thinking, Winnie pushed herself off the bed and wandered to the window. She looked out at a view she had seen her whole life. Now it looked completely foreign to her. Gone were the endless pastures dotted with dozens of sheep and the gentle hills and the welcoming forests. Even the sky in Wiltshire seemed duller.

Winnie let her forehead rest against the cool glass. Perhaps everything would be duller now. Dalton had made life so much brighter and more enjoyable. He had helped to make Winnie brighter. He had reminded her that she could enjoy life without sacrificing any of her principles.

She missed him. She missed who she had been with him.

Winnie spent the better part of the next two weeks mindlessly tidying her room over and over again. She needed to keep her hands busy in some way. Embroidery, sewing, drawing, and reading all became stale after a while. She had rearranged her vanity and adjusted her blankets more times than she could count, even though she could have had a maid do it for her.

Fall had slowly crept in while Winnie barricaded herself in her bedroom, yet she could not bring herself to go outside. Even nature reminded her of Dalton—of the beautiful summer they had spent together.

Of course, Winnie also needed to avoid Mr. and Mrs. Thirley as much as possible. Though they had not seemed overly concerned about her absence, she still did not want to give them any opportunities for questions that would only break her heart anew. She had not regained her emotionless composure yet—her protective barrier.

To Winnie’s relief, she only had to see her parents at mealtimes. They never asked her to join them in the drawing room or for tea in the garden or for a walk around the grounds. These past two weeks had revealed another bleak truth. Her parents had never asked her to do those things with them. Winnie simply followed along, hoping that they would appreciate her silent presence. Even that seemed minor compared to the hole that had been left in her chest by Dalton.

Winnie listlessly poked at her ham. She had not been eating as much as usual. Mr. and Mrs. Thirley had not noticed, and if they had noticed, they did not care. That was just fine to Winnie. In her present state, the less they noticed about her the better.

“Warren, would you like to check the mail today?” Mr. Thirley asked lovingly.

“Yes, Father!” Warren cheered. Winnie could see him bouncing with excitement in his seat across the table. On occasion, Mr. Thirley allowed Warren to accept the day’s mail from the footman.

The stoic servant leaned down beside the boy, holding the silver tray out. Quickly wiping his hands on his napkin, Warren eagerly snatched up the envelopes.

“What do we have today, dearest?” Mrs. Thirley asked, watching her son with a sweet glow in her eyes.

Warren sorted through the letters, carefully reading the names on each one. “These are for you, Father. And these for you, Mother.” He passed the first batch of letters to Mr. Thirley, who set them aside before accepting the next batch and passing them on to his wife.

“You have one as well, Winnie—from Miss Harcourt.” Warren grinned across the table, hopping up from his chair and racing around to Winnie’s side to personally deliver it.

Winnie could not help giggling as she accepted the letter. She and Miss Harcourt, as well as Mrs. Waynford, had been keeping regular communication since Winnie arrived home. It had not hurt as badly as she had thought to hear from them. Whether out of respect or out of awkwardness, neither woman mentioned Dalton in their letters. They had become valuable friends to Winnie, the closest friends she had had in a very long time. She would not allow Dalton to taint that, too.

Warren grasped Winnie’s arm with both hands, giving her an eager shake. “Will you read it now? I want to know if Miss Harriet has any messages for me from Sandy.”

Winnie coughed, quickly taking a sip of tea to calm herself. She had intended to read the letter in the privacy of her bedroom. With Warren gazing up at her with those hopeful eyes, Winnie was powerless.

“Yes, my love.” Winnie forced a smile, hoping that whatever Caroline said would not unintentionally make her think of Dalton. “Ah, Miss Harriet says that Sandy has chewed her favorite slippers beyond repair, and he sniffed around your bedroom for two days after we left.”

Warren released Winnie’s arm with a melancholy sigh. “I do miss Sandy terribly. And Miss Harriet, of course. Do you think we can visit again soon? I wonder how big Sandy will be next time.”

“We have only just arrived back home, Warren,” Winnie said with a pained chuckle.

“I know,” the boy grumbled with a pout. “But I had so much fun with the Harcourts.”

“I know you did, dear. Perhaps they will invite us again next summer.” Just the thought made Winnie feel sick to her stomach. Could she survive another summer with Dalton, even for Warren’s sake?

“Warren, that is enough. Go finish your breakfast. We are taking the gig out today,” Mrs. Thirley commanded gently. Warren’s eyes lit up and he trotted back to his seat, fork back in his hand before he had even settled into his chair.

Winnie returned her attention to Caroline’s letter. She skimmed the rest, mostly minor updates on life at Attwood Manor—save for any mention of Dalton.

At that precise moment, Winnie’s heart froze. She swore her eyes had just landed on his name. She blinked rapidly, skimming again until she found it. Yes, there it was, plain as day. Dalton.

She shoved the letter aside, heart hammering and stomach churning. Her already minimal appetite disappeared completely. The rest of Caroline’s letter must wait until Winnie could read it in private. She did not know why Caroline would mention her brother so openly now. Whatever the reason, Winnie’s heart was still too fragile to keep her composure.

Miraculously, Winnie made it through a few more bites of breakfast before excusing herself. No one seemed to notice or care about the tremor in her voice or the way she stood from her chair so quickly that its legs scraped against the wood floor.

Winnie rushed to her room, the letter clutched in her hand almost burning against her skin. As soon as the door closed behind her, Winnie sat on the edge of her bed, fingers trembling slightly as she held the single sheet of paper out before her, still folded.

She hesitated, trying to talk herself out of reading it. Did she truly need to read it? Surely it could wait until she felt better. Winnie had had faith that Caroline would understand her desire to leave Dalton out of their correspondence. It struck her as exceedingly odd that her friend would mention him now.

A terrible possibility turned Winnie’s heart inside out. What if something had happened to him? No matter what happened between them, Winnie would never, ever wish him harm.

With bated breath, Winnie opened the letter. She skipped down to the portion of the letter that contained Dalton’s name, every fiber in her body and soul praying that she would not see any horrible news.

As Winnie read, her eyes tearing over the remainder of the letter, she came to the conclusion that it was horrible news—though not in the way she had expected. A hand drifted to her mouth as she considered Caroline’s words, her emotions jumping from one extreme to another.

The Harcourts would be visiting Mr. Holland, a relative who lived in Wiltshire—in the next town over from Winnie’s.

According to Caroline, Dalton had been apprehensive to learn of their trip into the county the Thirley family called home. Dalton had never excelled at his geography lessons, so he seemed completely unaware of just how close they would be coming to Risin Hall.

Do what you will with this information.

Caroline’s letter ended with those mysterious words. Clearly, she wanted Winnie to do something. Of course Winnie would never try to intrude upon their family trip. Firstly, she had not been invited to do so. Secondly, it would be impossible for her to see Dalton so soon. The events of their summer still lived in Winnie like a deep, dark bruise. Even a glimpse of him would reopen that wound.

Winnie read the last few paragraphs again. Would it truly be so bad to see him? Perhaps she could use some closure—and certainly an apology. He owed her that much. Besides, Winnie trusted Caroline. Would she have mentioned this trip, and Dalton’s role in it, if not to encourage Winnie to act?

Did that mean Winnie could have some hope that a reconciliation could be made? Her breathing became erratic, almost dizzying. Winnie knew the last thing she should be looking for right now was reconciliation. Dalton had hurt her to an unimaginable degree. Two weeks had not been enough time for her to even begin the healing process, let alone have the strength to face him again.

Yet something deeper, something more profound, told Winnie that she should seize this chance. She had no way of knowing what would happen when they saw each other again. Still, Winnie’s battered heart pulsed with a warmth she had thought extinct.

Even now, Winnie could not deny that she missed him so terribly, that she longed to see him and speak with him. Would that be enough to repair the damage that had been done?

Winnie only hadto wait two days for the Harcourts’ arrival in Wiltshire, according to Caroline’s letter. Those two days crawled by, the clock in Winnie’s room taunting her by the second. All of Winnie’s carefully practiced poise and decorum had been tossed out the window as her mind battled with itself.

She must have gone back and forth at least a dozen times, endlessly pacing across the room. For an hour, she decided to accept Caroline’s hint and find the Harcourts while they were in the area. The next hour reminded Winnie of all she had suffered, that she needed to protect herself first and foremost.

Had she gone mad? Winnie had asked herself that question many, many times as well. Just the fact that she even considered seeing Dalton again went against everything Winnie had been telling herself these past two weeks.

On the day Caroline had indicated, Winnie still did not know for certain what she would do. After an uneventful breakfast and more pacing in her room, Winnie eventually decided to call for her maid to help her change into a nice walking dress.

With several choices laid out before her, Winnie’s eyes immediately went to the silver-blue gown. The maid had nearly finished buttoning it before Winnie realized its significance. She had worn this very same dress on that bright day in the Harcourts’ garden, the day she had caught a glimpse of Dalton’s deeper world—the day she had truly started to fall.

Before Winnie could change her mind, the maid had slipped from the room. Of course, Winnie could call her back and change into another dress. Something stopped her. She already had it on. Why go through the trouble of changing again? It was just a dress, after all. It had no power over her besides the power she gave it—but the power of memory was quite strong.

Winnie paced again, now debating over the gown and over this potential meeting. At least, if she did decide to go at the last minute, she would be properly dressed. She glanced up at the clock on top of her dresser. It was nearly time now.

Winnie decided to make her way downstairs to the foyer to pace there instead. She did not have to leave the house if she decided against it. If she did choose to take the risk, she would be right at the door and ready to go. Her heart thudded in her chest with each step, her breath shallow and panicked. Winnie reminded herself over and over again that she was under no obligation to go through with this. She could turn around at any time.

She did not turn around. She made it to the foyer, the interior of Risin Hall passing in a blur. Her eyes seemed only able to focus on a minuscule point in the distance—the end of the hallway, then the bottom of the stairs, then the strip of light pouring in under the front doors. Winnie’s body kept her moving, her mind gone blank with anxiety.

“Good afternoon, Miss Thirley,” a footman called out as Winnie came to a stop before the double doors. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Well…” Winnie mumbled, trying to form a coherent sentence. Unfortunately, the footman could not help Winnie in the way she needed most right now. He could not choose Winnie’s next move. Only she could do that.

Truly, how had this happened? The absurdity of the situation still stunned Winnie. She would have never guessed that she would fall in love with a man she once hated. She would have never guessed that she would find herself standing on some ledge, about to leap into a terrifying, exhilarating, uncertain future—a future she longed for with the man who had crushed her.

Winnie knew, without knowing how she knew, that if she stepped through those doors, her life would never be the same, she would never be the same—one way or another.

“Miss Thirley?”

Winnie jumped, remembering where she was. “Ah, yes. I would like to take a trip to Harboard. The tilbury will be fine. And please tell my parents where I have gone and that I shall be back before dinner.”

The tilbury and its driver were ready much quicker than Winnie had anticipated. She did not even have a chance to change her mind again. Still, she promised herself that at the slightest hesitation, she would ask the driver to turn them around.

They rattled along down the driveway, through Winnie’s town, and then out toward Harboard. Luckily, the drive did not take terribly long, otherwise Winnie would have gone mad with trepidation. She hesitated several times, opening her mouth to command the driver to bring her home. Then she changed her mind again, telling herself to go just a little bit further and then reassess.

That process kept Winnie occupied all the way into the center of Harboard. “Here we are, Miss Thirley. Where would you like me to wait?” the driver asked cheerily, suddenly appearing at Winnie’s side with an outstretched hand.

Winnie argued with herself once more as she stared at the driver’s hand, her mind telling her to go back home while her heart insisted that they had already made it this far, so they might as well see it through.

“Just over there, please.” She stepped down from the carriage, pointing to a side street nearby.

Her foolish, insane, naively optimistic heart had won out, despite all its cracks and bruises and scars.

Caroline’s letter informed Winnie that the Harcourt family would be in Harboard taking a tour of the town around this time. Harboard was not a large town, smaller than Winnie’s, but now she would have to work on her own to find them.

Winnie only took a few steps before looking over her shoulder at the tilbury that could still take her home right now. No one need ever know that she had been here to do this absurd thing. Once again, Winnie’s heart gently prodded her to continue. She had come this far, after all. She did not know what would happen next, how she would feel when she saw him. Everything about this day was already so far outside of Winnie’s plans. Yet she took a few more steps forward, hesitant at first before finding her rhythm and purpose.

She peered down every street she passed and into every shop window, both hoping for and fearing that first glimpse of Dalton. To her surprise, she grew more anxious the longer she searched. Had she misread the time and date in Caroline’s letter? No, that could not be possible. Winnie had read it so many times she had lost count. Had their plans changed at the last minute? Caroline likely would not have had time to send an update, leaving Winnie to wander around Harboard like a lovesick fool.

Winnie paused as she came upon the town center with its little garden surrounded by benches for the townspeople and its visitors to rest and enjoy the scenery. Yes, she was indeed lovesick, even after everything that had happened. Why else would she come out here? No matter how hard she had fought against herself, truth overpowered her.

She still loved Dalton. She needed to find out, once and for all, if she should fight for that love or let it go.

With a dejected sigh, Winnie turned to head back in the direction she had come. She still had not seen a single Harcourt. After her weeks of misery, after these past few days of torturous uncertainty, had Winnie missed him?

A commotion across the town center nearly made Winnie jump. She knew even before she whirled around that the commotion had come from the group she had been searching for. The Harcourts spilled out of a quill shop, several of them holding boxes of their purchases.

Dalton was empty-handed, his smile devoid of that true joy Winnie had fallen in love with, even when he lovingly scolded Miss Harriet for something or other. They were too far for Winnie to make out their conversation. Still, she knew the Harcourts well enough by now to make educated guesses.

Finally seeing Dalton again did break Winnie’s heart, though not in the way she had expected. He did not appear to be in any better shape than she was, even though he had been the one to end their relationship.

Caroline stepped up beside him, putting a gentle hand on his arm. She murmured something to him with a chuckle. He only nodded, his smile failing to reach his eyes as he turned, his back toward Winnie.

Winnie longed to come closer, to close the distance between them once more. Her mind raced with possibilities. She did not want to draw everyone’s attention to her and Dalton, but she did not know how to separate him from the rest of the group so they could talk privately.

As if guided by some angel above, Caroline happened to glance in Winnie’s direction over Dalton’s shoulder. Both ladies’ eyes went wide with surprise. They communicated silently, Winnie trusting her friend to create another opportunity for them.

Caroline quickly returned her focus to Dalton, saying something Winnie could not understand. She gestured to a nearby bench with an understanding nod.

After a moment of deliberation, Dalton seemed to agree. With heavy steps, he trudged to the bench and settled in, staring blankly at the garden before him. Caroline explained something to the rest of their family and they soon resumed their tour of Harboard. The woman looked over her shoulder at Winnie, jerking her head toward her brother, alone on the bench.

All the breath in Winnie’s body fled as she realized that the time had finally come. She could still turn around if she wanted to—Winnie knew now without a doubt that she did not want to. She wanted to step forward toward Dalton, to say…something. For once, Winnie did not worry about planning it all out. Despite her nerves and all the anxiety that had been building up to this moment, Winnie’s heart had settled into a gentle, serene rhythm. It told her that she would know what to say.

She took the first step. Dalton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Winnie could not help smiling to herself. Not a very proper or gentlemanly posture, especially in public. Winnie found it rather endearing now. She wanted nothing more than to sit by his side and put her arms around his shoulders.

Whether because of the angle of Winnie’s approach or because he was lost in his own thoughts, Dalton did not notice as Winnie stopped beside the bench. Even now, so close to him she could almost feel him, Winnie’s heart did not hammer with fear or anticipation. She watched him for a moment, noticed the way his chest rose and fell as if something heavy and immovable sat on it, noticed the way his lovely eyes roamed over the ground as if searching for something.

Winnie sat beside him at the very edge of the bench, a sudden warm, calm peace washing over her from head to toe. Whatever happened next, she knew she had made the right decision.

“Are you enjoying your time in Wiltshire thus far?” she asked quietly, hoping not to spook him too much.

Dalton’s head snapped around, his mouth hanging open in shock and amazement. “Winnie?” he stammered.

“You seem a little surprised,” Winnie giggled, reaching over to put her fingers under his chin, gently pushing his mouth closed. Such a bold action, especially in public where anyone could have seen, would have once been unfathomable and mortifying to Winnie. Today, it felt right.

He blinked rapidly, as if Winnie might disappear at any moment. He gripped his chin where Winnie had touched it, his fingers tenderly tracing her invisible mark.

“What are you doing here? That is to say, you do not live in Harboard, do you? I cannot be that dense to have missed that detail.” His words came out rapidly, breathlessly as he stared at her in disbelief.

“No, but I live nearby. Caroline did not exaggerate when she said you lacked geography skills.”

That feeling of peace Winnie had experienced the moment she sat down only grew stronger. Despite the strangeness of the situation and the pain they both carried, they managed to slip back into their natural conversation.

Dalton peered around Winnie at the path his family had taken. He sighed, leaning back against the bench, staring straight ahead at the town center’s garden. “She told you we would be nearby visiting Papa’s cousin?”

“She may have let it slip in one of her letters, yes. I must confess, I did not know if I would come or not until I was already in the tilbury. In fact, I thought many times about turning around.”

Dalton clenched his jaw, his eyes falling to the ground once more. “Perfectly understandable,” he mumbled. “Is this our final goodbye? I know we did not have much of one when you left Attwood Manor.”

Winnie felt tears forming in her eyes at the sorrow in his voice. “Goodness, we have made quite a mess of things, haven’t we?”

“I am afraid you are wrong there,” Dalton said with a bitter laugh. “Only I can claim responsibility for this mess.”

Winnie frowned, scooting just a bit closer. “No, I played my part as well.”

“Impossible.” Dalton smiled sadly, finally looking over at Winnie. “You are perfect.”

“Certainly not,” Winnie huffed. “But I thank you all the same.”

“So…why did you come here?”

“Not for a final goodbye,” Winnie gently insisted, realizing the truth in her words as she spoke them. “Unless that is what you want, of course.”

Dalton gazed at her with such a sweet, tentative hope that Winnie had to do everything in her power to stop herself from leaping into his arms and kissing him.

“Truly? Even after all the horrible things I said?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Winnie had come even closer now. She heard him perfectly.

“Truly. At first I was surprised that I would even consider coming here to find you, but now I know that I have been given a miraculous opportunity to say what I could not before. Dalton…”

When Winnie said his name, he too slid closer, his little finger brushing against hers as their hands sat between them on the bench.

“I cannot lie and say that your words did not hurt or affect me in any way, but I have had time to reflect on all that has happened.”

Dalton flinched at her words even as his hand slipped over Winnie’s, covering hers in his gentle strength. “Winnie, I am so terribly—”

“Please, Dalton, allow me to say this first.” Winnie smiled, flipping her hand palm up so she could wrap her fingers around Dalton’s. “Something in me knew this whole time that your words came from a place of pain. Goodness knows I have said many things to you in the past that came from the same place, and that was not right of me either.

“I understand your fears, at least as much as someone can who does not have to bear the responsibilities you do. But, Dalton, I want to bear them with you if you will allow me. All my life, I have wanted to be useful and important to someone. I used to think it had to be my parents. Now I know that is not true. As ridiculous as it may sound, I think everything that has happened between us has led me to you—even that terrible carriage ride and that night at the dance.”

She chuckled, thinking back on the long, strange journey their relationship had taken. Strange indeed, yet perfect in its own way because, as she had said, it led her to Dalton in the end.

“Over this past summer, you have shown me that not everything is so black and white—that love is found in the grays of life.” Winnie’s voice dropped to a whisper, her heart humming with certainty. “There will be more grays in the future, but you do not have to face them alone. That is what I tried to say before, though I am afraid my pride and stubbornness got the better of me.”

She finished quietly, suddenly feeling self-conscious and exposed. She had admitted both weakness and love in the same breath. She had chosen to set aside pain and all her rigid views of what a proper life looked like.

Winnie knew now that the only truly proper life was one filled with love, companionship, and happiness.

“But how can you possibly forgive me for being such a cruel, foolish man? I let my fear cause me to push you away two weeks ago, and I let my arrogance judge you unfairly two years ago.” Dalton’s voice cracked with anguish, his eyes piercing right into Winnie’s soul.

The town center, Harboard, Wiltshire, even the entire world seemed to melt away as Winnie reached up, cupping Dalton’s jaw in her hand. “We have spent so much time misunderstanding each other. Somehow, we came through to the other end with even more understanding and appreciation than either of us thought possible.

“I see it so clearly now that I wonder how I ever thought I would spend the rest of my life hating you. Your words at the dance hurt me because I knew to some degree, even then, that you were right. I was dull and lifeless and cold. Of course, I thought you to be superficial and reckless. I think I envied your freedom and lightheartedness, without knowing all the worry you carried within.

“And after learning more about you over these past few months, I have come to appreciate the brightness in your heart as well as your desire to be the kind of man you have always wanted to be—a man who is kind yet firm, cheerful yet wise, and bold yet reliable.

“You are already those things and more, Dalton. But you do not need to be those things alone. I wish to be by your side to help you navigate all of life’s complexities…and to enjoy all of life’s blessings. You have shown me that our time on this Earth is meant to be celebrated. Now I hope to show you that our time on this Earth is meant to be spent together.”

Winnie let out a deep breath as her words trailed off into the warm early autumn air. She did not know if she had breathed at all during that speech. Every second seemed far too important to be spent breathing when she had so many things she needed to say.

Dalton stared at her, silent and thoughtful. Winnie nearly broke the silence herself, but she knew she must not rush him. She had had her say, which ended up being even more than Winnie had expected.

Now it was Dalton’s turn.