His movements were suddenly anxious. He turned his chair a little more toward her and lifted her hand up to his mouth, kissing the back again, just as he had done earlier that day when she stood with Cantante. He closed his eyes this time, indulging in the kiss as he held her close to him. She leaned toward him all the more, basking in his touch and nearly falling out of her chair in her anticipation to be closer to him.
“Your Grace…” she paused, trying to hold onto the moment, yet Graham’s face bled into her mind. She was married to another man. Nothing could undo that at this moment. “We should not be –”
“Do not say it,” he pleaded with her, lifting his lips just a little off her hand. “For one minute, I wish to suspend reality.” His whisper was a desperate plea, making her heart ache in longing for him. He turned her hand and lifted it higher once again, this time he placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. It was an even more intimate touch than the last, making her bite her lip.
“We cannot suspend reality forever,” she whispered. Her words made him lift his lips off her skin and hang his head a little, though he clutched to her hand still all the same.
“Tell me something then,” he pleaded, keeping his head down.
“Tell you what?” she asked.
“That I am not alone in this,” he whispered softly. “For it’s all very well telling myself that you are off limits to me, my Lady. That I should not feel what I do feel, but I do not seem to be able to stop how I feel anyway.” He lifted his head this time with the words, looking at her with his eyes wide, waiting for an answer. “Can you?”
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of him for a minute. She knew exactly what she had felt for him. It had somehow developed without her really realizing. Each flirtatious comment, each kindness he had shown her, had made her more and more attached to him.
“No, I cannot stop it,” she said, opening her eyes again. He lifted her hand another time, placing a quick kiss to her wrist before pulling her forward.
She was certain he was going to kiss her properly this time, his head bending towards her. God, she wanted it. She wanted to know what a kiss of true affection could feel like, but this was somewhere she could not go.
As he leaned toward her, she reached out and placed a hand in the center of his chest, stopping him from coming any closer. He frowned a little in surprise.
“We cannot, Your Grace,” she said, whispering. “I am married to another, even though I do not wish to be.”
He hung his head forward, the muscles in his jaw twitching slightly in a manner she could not quite fathom.
“Is that your only objection?” he asked, still not looking at her. “You may yet obtain your separation.”
She thought of Graham’s last letter. The mere thought of it made tears spring to her eyes.
“Do you think my husband will really allow it to happen?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “I think he will go a long way to ensure I am never allowed to leave him. Besides…what of your trip to Egypt? And your travels abroad?” Her words made him sit straight, leaning away from her though he still kept one hand in hers, connecting the two of them. “You are to leave England soon, Your Grace. You have always intended to do so. And I must stay. Our lives are on different paths.”
She hated saying the words, even though she knew they were the truth.
“You think you will go back to him, don’t you?” he asked, holding her gaze. The tears threatened to fall all the more now, stinging her eyes. “You think it will happen.”
“The lawyer made it clear that the law is not on my side,” she said softly. “I might have to go back to him, even though it is the last thing I want to do.”
Hayward slowly disentangled his hand from hers. Feeling it gone, she was bereft, like a part of her was missing. He turned back to his plate, looking as sad as she felt, though he didn’t serve himself any food, nothing at all. He just stared at the China plate before him, those muscles in his jaw ticking.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, wishing she had been able to say better words to him. Words of admiration, of devotion too, but her head would not allow her heart to say them.
“Me too,” he said softly, though he kept his gaze down.
There was a tap at the door. Phoebe blinked a few times, desperately trying to stop the tears from falling. There was a handkerchief presented before her eyes, another of Hayward’s as he gave it to her.
“Take it,” he urged her softly. She smiled her thanks and dabbed her eyes, stopping the tears. “Come in,” he called to the door.
Carling opened the door, walking back in with a letter clutched in his hands.
“Forgive me for the interruption, Your Grace,” Carling said, striding across the room. “An express messenger has just delivered this, riding so fast that the horse nearly had an accident on the drive.”
Phoebe lowered the handkerchief from her eyes at these words and looked up, seeing the way that Hayward took the letter. His eyes widened a little as he read the address on the letter.
“Thank you,” Hayward said, nodding his head at Carling, clearly in expectation for him to leave. The butler bowed and left. As the door closed, she turned her eyes on Hayward.
“He had to leave?”
“He did,” he said in reply. “Look.” He turned the letter for her to see the address. Not only was Hayward’s name on there, but her own, ‘Lady Ridlington.’ She grimaced at the sight. If the butler had paid attention, he might well have realized who she really was.
