Greyson lingered just a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then he drew back. His silver eyes were brighter than she had ever seen them.
“Hazel, I…” he murmured, “thank you.”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
He shook his head slightly, as if words were impossible to shape properly. “You are…” He glanced away, then back, searching her face for a long moment, “an absolute wonder.”
Hazel’s pulse stuttered.
“A miracle worker,” Greyson added in that voice that made something deep inside of her awaken, without any desire to go back to sleep.
Hazel felt her cheeks burn. She stared down at her hands, desperately fighting the smile tugging at her lips, and failing miserably.
“I… I only helped her a little,” she whispered.
“No,” Greyson said, stepping closer, his voice gentle but certain. “You truly brought her back to me this time.”
Hazel’s cheeks bloomed even hotter. All she could do was smile and hope he could not hear how fast her heart was beating.
Not waiting for her to respond, Greyson opened the carriage door for her. She stepped inside, unable to stop smiling. Greyson followed after her, and as the carriage door closed behind them, Hazel felt the world shift toward something new.
On their way home, Greyson stared out the window, lost in thought. Hazel didn’t need to guess what he was thinking of. She watched him from the corner of her eye, unable to look away. He seemed so different now, less made of stone and more of something warm.
Hazel pressed her hands together in her lap, gripping her gloves as if they might anchor her own swirling thoughts. She had not meant for this to happen. This closeness and warmth, and constant awareness of his presence, were not meant to happen.
This marriage had been meant to be simple.
A partnership, not a romance. A structure, not a heartache.
Hazel had agreed to it because she believed she had nothing left to give emotionally, not after years of raising her sisters, shielding them, carrying burdens that weren’t hers to bear. She had no room left for the chaos of affection.
And yet… Greyson’s forehead had rested against hers when he kissed her. He called her a wonder, a miracle.
Hazel felt her throat tighten.This is dangerous.
This warmth, this tenderness, this was how hearts broke. This was how expectations formed. This was how a woman woke up one morning, realizing she loved someone who did not love her back.
Greyson Thornhill had vowed long ago never to fall in love. He had said as much to Jasper, to the world, and in every guarded breath he took. Hazel knew he respected her, appreciated her, perhaps even admired her. But love? No. She must not make that mistake.
Hazel turned her gaze to the opposite window, pretending her heart was not thudding wildly.
I should pull away,she told herself.Create distance. Restore the boundaries.
But then she remembered the way he had looked at his mother, the way he had whispered her name as if it were a prayer, the way he held her hand on the way to the carriage, gripping it tighter when he realized what she had done for him. Hazel closed her eyes, and the memory flooded her with warmth and ache.
Or… perhaps I should stop fighting this.
Maybe she could allow herself this softness, this possibility, this man. She didn’t know whether to run from her feelings or reach for them with both hands.
What she did know was that either choice would hurt: one from longing, one from fear.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Several peaceful days passed in quiet mornings spent visiting the dowager, afternoons filled with gentle conversation or walks through the garden, and evenings shared with Greyson in the library, as they chose new books for his mother.
Hazel felt herself settling into a rhythm she hadn’t expected, one steady enough that she almost trusted it.
Almost.
