His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she felt his lips rest just against her ear. He did not say anything, but his warmth and comfort began to soothe her. When she had cried herself out, Edward’s lips kissed the tear marks on her cheeks away.
Rachel closed her eyes. “How am I going to survive, William?”
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Chapter 12
“You will sweetling,” William said, and regret and sorrow were thick in his tone. “You are strong; I know you will.”
“But there comes a point where someone’s strength will give out,” Rachel whispered. “I have tried so long and so hard not to be as lifeless as my parents are. And now, if I am to marry this man, my soul will die too. My parents will force the union, I know.”
“Is there anyway you could refuse the marriage?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Not until I am dead.”
William moved to speak, but he closed his mouth soon after. Rachel wondered what he was going to say but did not ask. Instead, she just lay against him and held unto the comfort he was giving her. The small kisses on her skin, the warm stroke of his hand down her back, and the comforting hum deep his throat.
Deciding to ignore the worries that were heavy on her heart, Rachel allowed herself to imagine that all of those troubles did not exist and that she was not teetering on the brink of disaster. Instead, she was in a hidden land, just alone with a man she was beginning to love and was wrapped in a cocoon of comfort.
“I wish this was a night terror that I could wake up from,” she murmured. “This was all a dream.”
“I know,” he said against her temple. “I know. This situation shouldn’t be happening to you. You have the softest of hearts and to bruise you again like this is utterly cruel.”
“My parents claim to be pious, but they are pitiless,” she shook her head. “I do not see how both can connect.”
“Some who think they are good people are only good in their eyes,” William said cautiously. “Whilst those on the outside see differently.”
“I wish I could be like the rainbirds in the drawing you showed me once,” Rachel said. “That I had a birds’ wings so I could fly away from all this upset.”
Again, he attempted to say something, but he stopped himself and shook his head. “I wish I could tell you something that would put your mind at ease, but I cannot.”
Soon after he uttered those words, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Since the night they had first kissed, these moments of gentle affection that she treasured had become a part of their ever-growing relationship, of their deepening bond.
She titled her head up and placed a soft, tender kiss on his lips. William brushed under her eyes, marking the path of her tears. It was as if he were apologizing for something he had not caused. His tenderness and care were like a soothing balm on her stinging, smarting heart.
Pulling away, Rachel dabbed the back of her hand to her eyes. “I should go inside. And I will see you on the morrow.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Good night.”
She stood in her place for a moment, as she felt the strange sensation that he would add something, but when nothing more came from him, she smiled and headed back to the house.
***
It cut William deeply that he could not give Rachel more comfort, but his hands were tied. In a perfect world, he would be the one courting her. He would be the one not having to hide his affection for her. He would be the one to give her mind some ease. But he was only a servant, and she was in a class that both fascinated and repulsed him.
He viewed the peerage as a strange section of mankind; observing their strange rituals and actions from the sidelines but wanting nothing to do with them. He did not understand their hate and discrimination against those of the so-called lower class. But William had found people of that class, who were kinder, more generous, and had more love and care in their hearts than those whose names were written on Debretts.
He knew Rachel had spotted the times he had almost spoken with the very ludicrous proposition that she run away. But he could never say them. where would she go? What would a gentlewoman like her do on her own? She had never known hardship or poverty or homelessness as he had. Her skin was not as thick as his.
With a sigh, William stood and went back to the house that was as vast and empty and the Duke and Duchess’s hearts.
If they were going to use their only child as a pawn, they are heartless savages.
He entered his room, bypassing the servant’s meal-hall as hunger was the furthest thing from his mind. He went directly to his desk, where his personal drawings of Rachel rested, and pulled out one of his few empty sheets.
He drew the most heartbreaking image of her, manipulating her body into that of a fountain with her head titled up. And pouring from her closed eyes were streams of tears.
Dropping the pencil, he gripped his head at the feel of the incoming headache. The dull throb in his temple told him that he would not be sleeping that night, and William left to the dining hall to get a pitcher of water to serve him the night and as he was going to need it.
