“I want to come with you.”
West steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane. Behind his leg, for the first time, I notice a packed suitcase of his own. It’s dark canvas and brown leather, and looks worn from countless earlier trips in his previous life—then stained with the dust of years of neglect.
I blink hard, but his case is still there. Undeniable.
Baffling.
“I’m sorry about last night,” West goes on. His voice is low. Taut with pain, like the last few hours have been non-stop torture for him too. “I said the most awful—and you—but I panicked. That’s all. It’s inexcusable, but I didn’t mean those things. Christ, this is a terrible apology, isn’t it?” The lord grimaces, his fingers flexing on his cane. “I’ve been rehearsing it all night, but now that you’re here, I can’t think straight. I can never think straight around you, Madeleine.”
My heart speeds up, from a dull plod to a trot to a canter to a gallop, and all the while I peer up at my aristocratic boss like an imbecile. I’m way too sleep-deprived for this to make any sense.
“You said that we had no future,” I remind him.
West blanches, the salt air tugging at his open collar. The sun is rising across the sea, crowning the choppy waves in gold. It’s gorgeous. The kind of beautiful that hurts.
“I did. I did say that. But we could,” he grates out. “If I weren’t a grief-stricken coward… if you could forgive an old, idiotic man for lashing out… we could have a future, Maddy. If any part of you still wants me, I’m yours. I’ve been yours since I first heard your laugh echo through the manor.”
Struck dumb, I stare at Lord Westmore’s case. At the physical evidence that he means what he says; that this man is ready to set out into the world and start over together, age gap be damned. I look out to sea, where the white specks of gulls ride the air currents. Then back up at my exhausted, care-worn boss, with a death grip on his cane and his heart in his eyes.
“You’re not old,” I mumble.
And just like that, understanding thuds into place.
Because last night, West ran away. He got scared, panicked, and ran away instead of sticking around to feel the hard feelings. Who could understand that better than me?
I’ve spent my whole life on the move, always packing up and leaving the minute my situation got tricky or dull. Pulling theescape hatch instead of working through a rough patch. Look: I’m doing it right now!
When I give West a wobbly smile, his whole chest deflates in relief. He steps closer and cups the side of my neck with a frozen hand.
“You,” I tell him, placing my hand over his, “are in no state to travel today, your lordship. How long have you been standing out here without a coat?”
“I’m not sure.” West’s thumb grazes back and forth across my skin, like he can’t believe I’m real. Like he can’t believe he’s touching me again. “A few hours before dawn, I suppose. I couldn’t let you slip away without at least apologizing to you first. Without explaining that I’m a fool and you’re a fucking angel, and every minute I spend with you is a dream.”
“Well, duh.” My laugh is watery, and West cracks a smile too. “But in future, please wrap up warm for your grand gestures.”
He leans down and nudges the tip of my nose with his own. “Noted.”
“See what I mean?” I swat the lord’s shoulder, then turn us back toward the manor. Our first steps are cautious, like we’re both waiting for the other to bolt. “Your nose is like a piece of ice. Didn’t they warn you about frostbite while you were gallivanting around the world?”
“Probably.” Our steps quicken across the grass once it’s clear that neither of us is going to flee, new energy buoying us toward the nearest door. West is limping worse than usual, his knuckles blanched against his cane, and I bite my lip against a swell of love and worry. But he grins at me, already looking a decade younger in the morning sunshine now that my hand is safely tucked in his. “I wasn’t listening.”
“Too busy daydreaming about alpine mosses.”
West laughs and waves a groundsman over, then sends him back to the land bridge to collect our cases. When we reach oneof the doors to the manor, he pulls it open and steps aside, gesturing me through.
“Don’t fret, darling. I know exactly how we can get warm.”
* * *
West’s private rooms look like a whirlwind blew through, yanking open every drawer and closet door. Clothes lay strewn across the rug, abandoned, and piles of notebooks are haphazardly stacked by the wall. Only the bed is pristine, untouched since yesterday.
“Ah,” West says as he leads me inside. “Yes. It’s a little untidy, I’m afraid. I packed in rather a hurry.”
My lips press together against a smile, and I close West’s bedroom door behind us. The curtains are open, daylight filtering through a whisper-fine panel of white fabric. Sheer enough to let the light in, whilst still keeping prying eyes at bay.
“I’m curious about what you packed. I’m gonna dig through your suitcase later.”
West scoffs in amusement. “If you like. There’s nothing interesting in there, though.”
