Miss Pendleton (Update to C.222 END) - Chapter 197

Remzwick bowed and withdrew.

In the guest room, Ian Dalton was left alone. Sitting by the hearth, he naturally glanced at the chair opposite him where Remzwick had just been seated.

Normally, spending evenings by the hearth like this, his wife would always be sitting across from him—reading a book, embroidering, or reviewing ledgers.

Laura Pendleton was never anything less than beautiful, but when seated by the hearth, she was undeniably an angel with hidden wings.

With a somber expression, Ian stared at the empty chair across from him before walking to the bedside table and opening the first drawer. Inside was a neatly folded black shawl.

He took the shawl and returned to the hearth. Placing it on the empty chair opposite, he sat back down. The black shawl, which had always draped over Laura’s shoulders during her governess days, now filled the void where she should have been.

How he had envied that black shawl every time he saw Laura at Dunville Park, wrapped in its embrace. More than once, he had imagined himself holding her shoulders as the shawl did—absorbing her warmth and scent, brushing against her loose strands of hair, tickling slightly, slipping off her shoulders only to be gently pulled back by her touch.

If I couldn’t be her husband, I would have wanted to be that shawl.

When, by heaven’s grace, he had finally obtained the shawl, he tried not to show his joy in front of Laura, but his body trembled with happiness. Every night, thinking of her, he buried his face in the shawl, kissing it. He had practiced confessing his love to it dozens of times.

That was why, despite Laura’s gentle urging to dispose of it, he could never bring himself to part with it. During those days of aching, unrequited love, the shawl had been Laura’s stand-in.

And it still is.

In moments when he couldn’t cross to the bedroom where Laura was, having her shawl by his side was a blessing beyond measure.

I miss you, Laura.

He gazed at the piece of black fabric resting quietly on the chair and smiled sadly.

Knock, knock.

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