Miss Pendleton (Update to C.222 END) - Chapter 20

This place, popular as a picnic spot for the nobility, was surrounded by green fields, a tranquil riverside, and lush forests. He walked towards the forest as if by instinct and soon noticed a clean walking path starting from the entrance of the woodland area. He stepped onto the path.

With each step, the noisy sounds of people grew more distant. Nothing could be heard around him except for the rustling of leaves, birdsong, and Ian Dalton’s own footsteps.

The pulse that had been throbbing in his temples since earlier began to subside. He let out a sigh. It was fortunate to have some time to gather his thoughts.

The past month had been a series of unexpected events. His original purpose for coming to London was nothing more than to see the faces of friends with whom he had only occasionally exchanged letters after graduating from university.

That purpose had been fulfilled in less than ten days. If he had moved according to his initial plan, he would now be sitting in the office at Whitefield Hall, talking with tenants.

Yet he was still in London. Moreover, he was wasting time participating in the nobles’ idle pastimes, which he had always considered foolish. It was something he couldn’t have imagined before departing for London.

The longer his stay extended, the more unsettled his mind became. He had work to do at his estate.

There were piling issues to resolve: mediating disputes between farmers, discussing land reclamation projects, addressing land lease problems. Additionally, the old pastor serving in the estate was in poor health, necessitating discussions about his will and the future of his dependents.

Although there was a land agent acting on his behalf, there were limits to what could be entrusted to someone else’s hands. He needed to return to his estate as soon as possible. However, he was held captive by a strong, invisible grip. The owner of that grip was the frail Laura Pendleton.

Laura Pendleton.

As he recalled her name, he felt his fingertips tremble slightly. In the empty forest, he clenched and unclenched his fist to suppress the trembling, fearing someone might notice. But the intense heartbeat that began with the trembling couldn’t be suppressed like his hands. He felt the pulsing tremor in his chest as he thought of her.

The ball where he first met her, her gray eyes as they danced the waltz. The trembling had started there. And after that initial tremor, his heart began to flow endlessly towards her.

He couldn’t stop visiting her house at every opportunity. He couldn’t cease the degrading act of hovering around her, trying to exchange even a single word.

The more they interacted, the more easily she opened the lock on her heart. A mind harmonizing a shy and quiet nature with an honest and unpretentious essence. Altruistic listening and intelligent responses. Graceful without pretense, just as she was.

He had never encountered a personality so appealing, nor had he ever been so captivated by someone. No lady had ever fascinated him like this before.

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