Page 31
“I shall see you soon,” he had said, his green eyes holding hers a moment longer than propriety required.
She had believed him. She believed him now. Yet she still listened whenever wheels slowed beneath her window, her breath catching and her fingers tightening on the back of the sofa. Elizabeth looked down at the book in her hands, tracing the worn spine with her thumb, and smiled ruefully. A fortnight ago, she would have considered a quiet afternoon alone a pleasure. A gift of solitude to be savored. Today she wanted someone to interrupt it.
More than that, she wanted him to stay. The realization slowly brought her back to the sofa, and she sank into the cushions, the book forgotten in her lap. She had been careful not to name what she felt. At the house party, she had always anticipated another walk, another conversation where she could discover something about him. As the days had unfolded, she had craved more with him. Here, in the quiet of her own home, she could no longer pretend that she merely enjoyed his company.
She loved him.
The truth frightened her less than she expected. It had arrived through so many small moments… A patient silence, a hand offered at the right time, a joke made at his own expense. Now she recognized it for what it was. It seemed almost familiar, like a song she had been humming without knowing the words.
A knock sounded at the drawing-room door. Elizabeth stood before her butler had finished announcing him, her heart leaping into her throat. Julian paused upon the threshold. For a moment, she could only look at him. His chestnut hair was neatly arranged, his coat immaculate, and the afternoon light showed the green of his eyes. Then he smiled, and the drawing room no longer felt quite so large. “Lady Andover.”
“Lord Rosedale,” she said, dipping her head, though her voice came out breathless.
Her butler withdrew, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Julian set his hat upon a chair, crossed the room, and took her offered hand. “Elizabeth,” he said more softly.
She had missed the sound of her name in his voice, the low, warm way he shaped it. “Julian.”
He bent to kiss her fingers, his warm lips against her knuckles, then straightened without letting go. “I hope I have not come too early,” he said.
“No,” she told him, then admitted, “I have been ready for some time.” A flush warmed her cheek.
His smile warmed, creasing the corners of his eyes. “So have I.”
Elizabeth laughed quietly, and the last uncomfortable formality between them eased, falling away as a shawl slipped from her shoulders. “Will you sit?” she asked. “I shall ring for tea.”
He waited while she did so. She tugged the bell-pull, then took the place beside her upon the sofa. She had imagined him choosing a chair across from her, at a polite distance. Having him close enough to touch his sleeve was far more distracting. She folded her hands in her lap to keep from reaching for him.
“I trust your journey was comfortable,” he said, turning slightly toward her.
“Very,” she said. “Charlotte was excellent company.”
He nodded. “Lady Sylvan generally is.”
“She is always considerate.” She smiled. Charlotte had become one of her dearest friends ever since they started the league. She was her opposite in every way, and she supposed that may be why their friendship worked. “She left me to my own thoughts as I stared out the carriage window.” All she had thought about was Julian…
“Were you admiring the countryside?” he asked, a faint glint in his eye.
“Occasionally,” she said, lowering her lashes.
His gaze met hers, and she saw that he understood. He knew precisely where her thoughts had wandered during those long hours on the road. A quiet, delighted warmth passed between them. Elizabeth looked toward the table, mostly to give her gaze somewhere to rest. “I finished my book.”
“You have put me to shame,” he told her. “I have scarcely read a page.”
“You must not tell Caroline,” she said, with a small, conspiratorial smile.
“I fear she will discover it regardless,” he told her. “She is rather astute and knows me too well.”
The mention of his sister widened her smile. He looked entirely at home discussing Caroline in her drawing room. His long legs stretched out comfortably, with one arm resting along the back of the sofa, and she liked that more than she could explain.
“Has she answered your letter?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he said. He winked. “Though I suspect she is composing a considerable list of questions.”
“About the horses?” she asked. Her lips twitched.
“Among other things,” he said, tilting his head ruefully.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, still smiling, and smoothed a crease from her skirt. Tea arrived before she could answer, carried in by a maid whose eyes flicked curiously between them. Elizabeth poured, steadying the heavy pot with both hands. Julian accepted a cup. They discussed things that meant little. It was ordinary conversation. That was what made it so precious.
