“Thank you so much,” she said. The stress of the day was catching up with her all at once, and she felt pitifully grateful for his kindness. “No one has ever…” She broke off, not sure what she’d intended to say. Della had plenty of people in her life who’d given her presents before, or helped her with something. Plenty of people who loved her, even. She had her parents, Annabelle, Peter, Jane, Reva, Eli, and countless other friends.
But until today, she couldn’t say that anyone had looked at her with so much patience, asked her, “What do you need?” and listened to her reply with total sincerity.
He’d given her exactly what she asked for. Not what he thought would be best or what she was supposed to want instead.
“Anyway, thank you,” Della finished awkwardly.
He held her gaze for a short moment, his eyes darkening to the hue of an ancient forest, then gathered his hat to leave.
Once Ashton had gone, she was forced to acknowledge that shewas simply too tired to work anymore without sustenance. Della rose from the desk and crossed the room to collapse on the little settee in the corner. It immediately let out a groan and sank eight inches beneath her weight.
Goodness. And Ashton was planning to write on this thing?It must be as old as the house itself. She hopped back to her feet and paced the room instead, trying to stretch her legs. They felt like lead. It would have been so nice to rest for a moment until he returned with something to eat…
As she circled the room, Della’s gaze slid to the crack in the open door leading to the bedroom. There was nothing spectacular inside; no four-poster with velvet curtains. But the plain wooden frame and thick mattress perched atop it looked like heaven right now. She couldn’t, could she?
It would be inappropriate. That was the viscount’s bed, where he spent each night. (Naked, perhaps? Oh dear.) Della had absolutely no business slipping off her shoes and padding softly into the room, running a finger along the soft linen sheets, and finally resting her head upon his pillow.
Oh, but itwasheaven!
She inhaled deeply, imagining Lord Ashton beside her. With his scent all around her and the brush of his sheets against her skin, it wasn’t too difficult. All she wanted was to bury herself in a comforting embrace and pretend yesterday was a bad dream.
***
Lyman returned only five minutes later than promised with two roast beef sandwiches wrapped in a parcel of brown paper, but found the room empty.
His heart skipped a beat. Had someone come home and found Della here? But there was no sign of anyone.
“Della?” he called softly. No answer. Wait, there were her shoes on the floor. He set their collation down on the desk and nudged the door to his bedroom open. Della was sprawled diagonally across the bed, snoring softly.
Lyman crossed the room and sat gingerly in the space behind the bend of her knees. Half of her skirts were trailing off the side of the bed, but her legs were firmly on the mattress, her stockings exposed where the fabric had twisted up a little way. He didn’t know whether he should wake her or let her sleep, or perhaps try to reposition her in a more comfortable manner. Then again, if she’d managed to fall asleep in her stays, comfort must not have been her primary concern.
Miss Annabelle had said she didn’t think her sister had slept all night. Rest was probably more important than food now. Better not to disturb her.
The gentlemanly thing to do would be to put a blanket over her and go wait in the next room until she wakes up.
But Lyman drank in the sight for another moment. He didn’t have the right words to say what he felt now. If Della were awake and asked him to ravish her, he would have been hard-pressed to refuse. But the feeling swirling in his chest was about more than desire.
He’d never had a woman sleep in his bed before.
He and Ellen had kept separate bedrooms when they’d lived together. Later, his lovers were ladies in charge of their own households. He’d slipped in at their invitation, then slipped out again before any curious neighbors could spy him in the light of day.
This was something new. Lyman wasn’t sure he knew what to do with it—how to fit this development into their agreement to keep a distance between them.
Slowly, he lay down in the empty space around Della’s body (a difficult feat, as she’d flung her limbs out in every direction). If he’d been married to a woman he’d loved, might they have passed thenight this way instead of retiring to separate rooms each evening? It felt strange to have another person so close.
“Di’ you find sumthig to eat?”
“Christ!” Lyman nearly jumped out of his skin. “I thought you were asleep!”
“Mmph.” Della’s voice was slurred and thick. “Awake th’ whole time.”
“You weren’t,” he insisted, sitting back up. “You were—” He’d been about to say, snoring, but thought better of it at the last minute. Never mind. Perhaps she was too tired to even realize she’d been insensible in the short time he’d been away. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I wasn’t going to take advantage,” he assured her quickly. “I was just—”
Whathadhe been doing? Pretending he knew what it felt like to share a true union with someone, instead of a cold parody of it? He couldn’t settle on an explanation that didn’t sound ridiculous.
“I know.” Della had opened her eyes by now and turned to watch him through heavy lids, though she made no move to rise. “I’m sorry I came in without asking. I only wanted to rest my head a minute. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” he said softly.
