She gnawed the inside of her cheek, quite taken aback by the question. Whatdidshe want? A few months ago she’d been so certain she wanted to write of exotic lands, to show the world of men that a woman could have a place other than in front of a hearth. And, truth be told, to make a name for herself as a journalist, an award-winning one at that.
“So many things,” she murmured as she pondered the long list she’d compiled over the years.
“Such as?”
Her gaze snapped back to Graham’s. None of that could matter at present, for here she was in Bristol with a brother to attend—a brother whose very life would be at risk on an operating table the day after next. “For now, all I want is for Colin to be restored.”
Graham’s fingers pressed warm against hers. “And then?”
She sighed. Exactly. The question was so enormous it squashed the air from her lungs. “I hardly know,” she whispered.
The truth of it was a surprise. She’d been so certain that after Colin recuperated, her future was to set sail on a ship to Cairo. But what of the man rubbing little circles inside the palm of her hand? How did Graham Lambert fit into that plan? She’d never considered marriage. She’d never had a need. Was he even offering such?
“I…” She shook her head, suddenly feeling foolish. Likely she was making too much of this. Far too much. The man had given her a kiss, not a proposal.
“Of course you are right.” Graham sank back against his seat. “Our focus should be on your brother’s surgery and convalescence. He is what matters right now.”
He was. Colin had been her sole reason for coming home. His health. His life. She ought to be glad—and she was—that this doctor cared so dearly for her brother. But all the same, the second Graham pulled away, part of her felt rejected. The selfish part. The space in her heart that desperately wanted to be the one and only thought in Graham Lambert’s head.
She bit her lip.Oh God, forgive me.
The carriage eased to a stop. Graham exited, his big frame filling the door until he stood outside in the lamplight, gazing up at her, those hazel eyes guarded, like a book slammed shut. A book she desperately wished to read. He offered his hand, and as he helped her descend, for the briefest of moments, she thought she detected a low moan in his throat.
“Good night, Miss Balfour.”
She smiled. Though he’d reverted to the formality of her full name, the warm intimacy in his voice could not be denied.
“Good night, Doctor.”
He bent over her hand, pressing his lips to her glove for a lingering moment, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric. And then he was gone. Vanished into the carriage. Carried off into the night.
Amelia stared after the coach for a long while before floating into the house and gliding up to her room, lighter than the feather in her pocket, even when Betsey popped in with a huff to help her undress.
Betsey eyed her in the mirror as she worked the pins from Amelia’s hair. “It appears your night went well.”
Absently, she rubbed the back of her hand where the leftover warmth of Graham’s kiss yet lingered. “Yes, very.”
Betsey tugged out the last pin, releasing a cascade down Amelia’s back. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“There was… That is we…” She ran her tongue over her lips, reliving the feel of Graham’s embrace, his scent, his taste.
“My, is it warm in here?” She shot to her feet and strode to the window.
But the curtains already rippled with the night breeze, the sash wide open.
“Mmm-hmm.” Betsey frowned. “I knew I should have attended you.”
“Don’t be silly. I am sure Mrs. Kirwin needed you far more than I.” She swung about for her dressing gown.
Betsey beat her to it, holding up the flimsy bit of silk by the shoulders for Amelia to shrug into. “Folding linens and playing a game of piquet with a laid-up housekeeper is not what you hired me to do.”
“I hired you as my helper, and for now, the running of this household is my life.” She tied the sash.
“And when we leave here, will things go back as they were before? Traveling? Writing?”
A sigh leaked out of her. It seemed the whole world required an answer from her tonight—answers she didn’t have.
She faced her maid, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. “Rest assured, Betsey. Whatever the future may hold, you will always have a place at my side if you so desire.”
