Until now.
Heart thudding, she reached out to accept the parcels from him. Twin lightning bolts of desire and sorrow streaked through her when their fingers touched. For the first time in her life, she wished a man to make himself comfortable, if only to talk. And for the first time in her life, this man not only showed no interest in doing so, he showed no interest in her company at all. The moment the parcels settled in her arms, he had already turned to go.
“Wait,” she choked out.
He paused. When he looked back at her, his chagrined expression indicated he felt the suffocating awkwardness between them as keenly as she.
“Wait,” she repeated softly. “At least allow me to see what it is you have brought.”
She glanced about for the closest available surface upon which to settle the parcels and settled for atop the escritoire. The wooden surface was easily large enough, and not much more than arm’s length from the threshold.
He returned to just outside the open doorway, careful to hang back a fair distance for propriety’s sake. Or perhaps because he, like her, was certain to combust if their shadows intertwined once again.
She unlaced the twine knotting the top bundle and slowly unwrapped the parcel. Her first thought wasblue. No, not blue... blue-violet. Yards of rich fabric the very color of her eyes. She lifted the material from the paper, allowing the impossibly soft muslin to unfurl. Gasping, she clutched it to her chest and spun to face him, tears pricking at her eyes.
Agown. He’d bought her agown!
Not just one, but several, and if the sumptuous cut of this one was any indication of the others, she would look every inch the fairytale princess her childhood self had always dreamed of being. Although there were no jewels adorning the neckline, this gown was even finer than the one she—
Violet’s breath caught, her throat suddenly scratchy.Even nicer than the one she’d ruined.Unlike the decade-old dresses she’d inadvertently stumbled across, these were cut in the first stare of today’s fashion. They were expensive. They were beautiful. She wouldn’t remotely resemble a governess anymore. She’d look like someone whobelonged.
“Thank you,” she whispered through the tightness in her throat. “This means more to me than you can ever know.”
“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “But I’m glad you like it.”
Likeit? She breathed in the scent of new, clean fabric and nearly swooned. The second he walked away, she planned to lock the door and try on every single one of them.
“A-are you dining with Lillian tonight?” she asked hesitantly. “If you’d like to dine together, I would love to join you wearing one of the new—”
“I don’t think that’s wise.” He took a step backward, as if she had suddenly become contagious. “The other night... I did not behave as I should. Until I can trust my brain and my body to comport themselves appropriately, I think it is best for us to spend less time together.”
Less time together? Her joy evaporated. She hadn’t seen him in two full days, and they lived in the same abbey. If they spent any less time together, she might as well be invisible. They would never again have an opportunity to share that magical closeness.
Misreading her distress—or perhaps not—he murmured, “I’m truly sorry.”
Then he turned and walked away.
She stumbled toward her escritoire and slumped onto the hard chair.
In a moment of extreme confusion, she had allowed herself to believe he felt for her as she did for him. She was wrong. He was sorry she’d misunderstood. He felt badly. He—the master of the manor, the one who offered shelter when he had no obligation to do so, the one who provided her with more than she’d ever dared to wish for—acted as ifhehad committed an unpardonable sin by indulging in desires she’d believed they both shared.
It hadn’t felt like sin at all. It had been strangely, gloriously,nice. For her. Twice she had sought to comfort him—to comfort herself—with kisses. And twice he had been the one to stop. To walk away.
Violet stared at the gown in her arms. He wished to thank her. She understood the message. She might belong at Waldegrave Abbey, but she certainly did not belong with him.
She just wished it didn’t make her feel like crying.
Chapter 14
Afortnight later, after yet another lonesome supper, Violet headed toward her bedchamber with the curious sensation that her world was teetering on the brink.
Lillian was soaking up art history and color theory like broth to bread. Mr. Waldegrave had made a habit of spending the least time possible in the company of his governess, but when she did catch him looking, his eyes were both haunted and hungry. And the outside world lurked just outside the abbey walls, ready to gobble her whole and spit her into the fire should she dare to show her face.
Or was she overworrying? Perhaps she was safely sequestered here at Waldegrave Abbey. In the nearly two months since fleeing the Livingston School for Girls, her biggest concern was having developed feelings for the occupants of the abbey. But she could not allow herself to forget that just because she didn’t leave its confines did not mean that the outside world didn’t exist.
“Miss Smythe?” came a deep voice from just behind her shoulder.
She spun around, one hand pressed to her heart. “Mr. Roper! You gave me quite a start. May I help you?”
