“Quite remarkable,” he said with genuine reverence.
“Friedrich built it when the gardener complained of this area always remaining too wet to grow anything.” She folded her hands in her lap and seemed to curl into herself, as if withdrawing into the safety of her shell. “Everyone thinks he isjusta footman, but he has an eye for seeing things before they exist. Somehow, he knows how they should work, and so he creates them. He repaired many things at the manor in Germany.” Her soft, musing tone turned bitter. “Such a brilliant man, yet hobbled by being born into the wrong class of society.”
Elias watched her, sensing that she wasn’t only speaking about Friedrich’s lowborn plight. “The world is not a fair place.” He straightened and turned toward her. “But I think you already know that better than most.”
She shook away his observation with a twitch of her shoulder, then hiked her chin to a defensive angle. Once again, she became the fierce lioness keeping everyone at bay. “It is useless to complain. All one can do is try to change one’s circumstances for the better.” She attempted a smile but failed. Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes gleamed with the tears she refused to shed. “I have heard it said happiness is a choice, but I find that concept difficult to put into practice when circumstances have become so disagreeable.”
Even though he feared she would pull away, he reached over and gently took her hand. “Happiness is easier when two attempt to create it together.”
She bowed her head and closed her eyes, but didn’t pull away. For that, he was grateful.
He shifted closer until no space existed between them. “The burden you carry wearies you, my brave lioness. Allow me to shoulder it for you.”
“You cannot.”
He gently eased his arm around her and encouraged her to rest her head on his shoulder. “I can do many things if given half the chance.”
A heavy sigh escaped her, but she remained there, leaning against him and clinging to his hand. “I like the way the torchlight dances across the water.” She spoke as if caught in a trance, and either unable or unwilling to break free. “I find the way it lights the ripples calming. Do you?”
“I find this moment both calming and hopeful.” He refused to lie. Sitting here with her made everything else fade away. Nothing mattered but keeping her at his side.
“Hopeful?” The leeriness had returned to her tone, but she made no move to pull away.
“Hopeful that you and I could be…” For the first time in a very long while, he struggled to find the perfect word—the word that would please her and put her at ease.
“What?” she prompted. She lifted her head and eyed him as if trying to decide if he was genuine or playing her for a fool.
“I care for you, Celia, care for you with a ferocity that almost frightens me.” He huffed a bitter, frustrated laugh. “It frightens me because you wish to have nothing to do with me and refuse to tell me why.”
She looked away and once more fixed her sad stare on the glistening pool. “Have you ever been to Germany?”
He stroked the softness of her bare hand that, surprisingly, she still allowed him to hold. “I have not had the pleasure of visiting that country.”
“It is quite lovely.” She stared straight ahead, and a soft smile slowly curved the bow of her tempting mouth. “I could not have spent my childhood in a better place.” She shuddered at the memory like shooing away a bothersome bug. When she returned her gaze to him, her smile was gone. “I must go back to Germany with Her Grace.” She swallowed hard and worked her mouth as if fighting back a sob. “When she passes, she wishes to be buried beside her husband.” Hard, fast blinking betrayed her battle against tears, and even though she valiantly fought them, a few still escaped. “She intends to die here in London.” She angrily swiped her fingers across her cheeks, batting the tears away.
He caught both her hands in his. “I will be here, Celia. You will not go through it alone. I swear it.” He didn’t bring up that the Duke of Hasterton and his sister would also assist in the laying to rest of their mother. The way Celia spoke as if she were the only one to care for the duchess confused him to no end. “I will help you. You have my word.”
She shook her head and looked away. “Go home, Elias,” she whispered. “Save yourself from this cruel game.”
Cruel game? It occurred to him that neither Celia nor the duchess had ever spoken kindly about the duke. Perhaps the man was a monster in need of a lesson he would not soon forget. “How did he hurt you?”
Celia turned back to him, confusion drawing her dark brows together. “Who?”
“The dowager’s son. The duke.”
The way her mouth flattened into a hard line told Elias everything he needed to know. “I will make him pay, even if I have to search every country in existence to find him. He will pay for whatever he did to you.”
She dropped her gaze to their clasped hands and squeezed his even tighter. “Go home, Elias,” she repeated.
“You are my home, Celia.” He lifted her hands and gently kissed both of them. “Wherever you are, that is where I wish to be.”
“I so wish I could love you,” she said so softly he barely heard it.
He framed her face with his hands. “You can. I will protect you from everything you fear.” He drew closer and brushed the lightest of kisses across the sweetness of her mouth. “Love me, Celia, and let me love you in return.”
She responded with a kiss so urgent, so full of desperation and need, that he gathered her closer, and silently swore to never let her go. She fisted his coat in her hands and held on to him with such a fierceness that his senses roared with a dangerous thundering.
Unable to resist, he smoothed a hand down her back and cupped her bottom, risking what would be a very well-earned slap. But rather than give him a reprimand, she pressed closer, almost crawling into his lap. He helped her shift until she straddled him. The move nearly undid him, awakening him to the severity of the situation. He broke the kiss, held her back, and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Celia—I do not wish to cause you ruin. We must stop.”
