“You’re right,” Sidney offered. “People die all the time, and we should not dishonor Phillip by avoiding mentioning him. But, Angie, such losses are not always as significant.” She looked up at him, a question in her eyes at his statement. Reaching across the table, he took hold of her hand, and began brushing his thumb across the back of it in a soothing gesture. “You know how mosttonmarriages are, but everyone could clearly see how much you and Phillip loved one another. That kind of loss leaves a mark.” Her eyes filled with tears at this last statement, and he wanted to kick himself for being so open, but it was what she had asked for.
They were both quiet for a few minutes, though the silence was not uncomfortable, before Angeline spoke up and just about ripped Sidney’s heart out with her next words.
“Did you know I was with him when he died?” she asked rhetorically. “It was so sudden . . . It was a beautiful early summer day, not too hot yet, and we were out for an afternoon walk, arm in arm.”
Angeline stared at a spot over Sidney’s shoulder, seeing something he couldn’t in the darkness as she shared her memories of that day with him.
Sidney had not known any of the specifics of how Phillip had died, only that it had been very sudden and unexpected, making the loss that much harder to comprehend, so he listened to her with great interest. “I cajoled him away from his desk where he had been at his books all day. He grumbled about it at first but was happy for the reprieve as we stepped out into the fresh air. I remember we were laughing over something silly . . . I can’t recall the particulars no matter how hard I try.” She forcefully expelled a breath and shook her head, eyes squeezed tight, obviously frustrated that the details of such an important moment escaped her. “But we were laughing, and he let go of my arm to pick a small daisy for me that was growing in the grass. He leaned over and kissed my temple before walking toward a patch of wildflowers . . . I believe to pick even more for me.”
Angeline paused, looking pained while still staring unfocused into the unknown behind Sidney. “I wasn’t really paying attention—still laughing over whatever it was when I noticed as he was walking away that he suddenly . . . stopped. He stood still for a moment; his back was to me so I couldn’t see his face . . . but there was just something about his movement—he seemed off somehow. His gait had stopped too abruptly, and he seemed to lean ever so slightly to the right. The posture was all wrong and I felt cold, scared. I called out to him just as he collapsed.” A sob broke through and she finally stopped staring into space, instead lowering her gaze to the table. “I rushed over, but before I even touched him, I could tell he was gone.”
Angie shook her head with her eyes still downcast so he could not see her expression. Sidney continued stroking the back of her hand, maintaining the tiny connection but letting her say what she needed to before moving to comfort her. “He looked like stone, pale, with nothing behind his eyes . . . just a blank. I remember picking up his hand and noticing the ink stains on his fingers from the bookkeeping he had been doing just a half hour before. Everything felt surreal. I must have screamed because some people joined us a few moments later—I don’t know who. It must have been staff because they felt familiar, and I let them pull me back even though I didn’t let go of his hand.” She snapped her head up and looked at Sidney. “Isn’t it mad—that I can recall a detail like the ink on Phillip’s fingers but not remember those who helped me?”
“No,” he said after a moment, when he saw she genuinely wanted an answer. “I think that grief does strange things with our memories. Some things it sharpens and others we forget, or they become muddied.” She nodded in agreement, still focused on him, like he could help her make sense of the most terrible moment of her life.
It sounded to Sidney like some kind of apoplexy, but different from what he knew of them at the same time. He desperately wished he could provide her with an answer, sure the unknown quality of why Phillip left so suddenly had to haunt her, making the loss that much more difficult.
“I just wish I understood . . .,” she said, her voice breaking as her tears unleashed, flowing down her face.
“Angie . . .,” Sidney said, practically leaping across the table as he rushed to pull her into his arms. She burrowed her face into his chest and gripped his shirt as if the material would keep her from drowning. He rocked her gently back and forth like one would do to sooth a child, running his hand through her hair. As her crying slowed and her breathing began to even out, he loosened his hold on her and pulled back far enough to kiss her forehead.
“I’m sorry I don’t know how to make it better,” he whispered. He relished the feeling of her in his arms and hated himself for having the thought as she was clearly in distress. Burying his nose into her soft red hair, he breathed in her delicate lavender scent, savoring the moment as he knew it would be brief.
“I don’t mean to scandalize,” she spoke into his chest, “but do you think you could hold me a little longer?” Angeline barely peeked up at him as she finished her question, her cheeks flaming.
Sidney pulled back so he could look into her eyes and spoke to her from his soul. “Angie, always. You can always come to me if you need anything.” He lifted his hand and brushed the stray lock of hair from her brow once again. “I will always be here for you, and you never need to be afraid to ask me anything.” She nodded her understanding and a look of relief and gratitude passed over her face as she visibly relaxed, settling back into his embrace. They stood together for several minutes before she eventually pulled away.
“Let me clean this up and then we can head back upstairs.” Angeline nodded in acknowledgment and sat quietly while Sidney made short work of returning the pilfered items to the pantry. Picking up the candle, he took her hand, and they quietly made their way back upstairs to the guestrooms.
CHAPTER7
Angeline awoke enveloped in warmth. For just a moment, reality was suspended in time and she thought she was lying in bed beside Phillip. But as the dream faded, coming more fully alert, she realized she was lying on a chaise in the library, and it was Sidney’s arm around her. He was still asleep, so she took a moment to take in his peaceful face and thought about the rash decision she had made last night.
When she and Sidney had reached the top of the stairs, she couldn’t bring herself to return to her room all alone and pled for him to take her to the library and read for a bit. She didn’t regret it—in fact falling asleep while he read to her from the Austen’s last published work had been the best night of sleep she’d had in ages. Regardless, she knew it would be wise not to dawdle here with him. She should probably get up and sneak back to her room before anyone became aware of the situation.
The problem was that she didn’t want to move. For the first time in two years, Angeline felt safe and content. And while Sidney had been a perfect gentleman, this morning, leaning against his solid frame, her body felt like it was on fire. The first stirrings of arousal she had thought might lay dormant forever were beginning to work their way through her body. For just a moment she had the reckless idea to kiss him, simply to remember what it felt like to be a woman who could physically express her love.
Just then, Sidney stirred from his cramped position on the chaise beside her. Eyes still closed, he instinctually turned toward her and nuzzled into her hair. Humming in appreciation, as he shifted closer, she could feel his morning arousal press against her hip. She thought she might burn up from the thoughts the feel of him conjured. As Sidney came to, Angeline feigned sleep to avoid embarrassment. She must have pretended well enough, for a moment later, after shifting back to give her more space on the cramped seat, she felt him gently trace a finger down her cheek and jaw line.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
Scared her blush would give her away, she gave a small stretch to make him think it was his touch which had awoken her. Lazily opening her eyes and yawning, Angeline looked at him before offering a small smile.
“Good morning,” she said shyly. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I forgot how well I sleep when I have someone beside me.”
“I’m glad you were able to rest well,” he said while gazing at her from his side, his head lying on his arm. Sidney’s familiar face was so handsome, and Angeline felt the pull of desire rising within her again. Utterly flustered, she sat up quickly, straightening her gown as she stood from the too small settee.
“I’d best be off before the household wakes and we raise questions,” she said while avoiding looking his direction. She didn’t want to give away what she was feeling at that moment, a mix of gratitude and want. Reaching the door, she forced herself to turn halfway so she could acknowledge what he had given her by staying by her side. “Thank you, Sidney, for always being a friend I can count on.” Slipping out the door, she fled before hearing if he responded.
Padding down the hallway as quietly as she could, Angeline made her way back to her room, trying valiantly not to be caught creeping around in the early hours of the morning. She thought she was in the clear but froze at the sound of a voice just as she reached her bedroom door.
“And just where are you coming from?”
Angeline breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted Moira and motioned for her to follow her into the room, quickly shutting the door behind them. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, Angeline buried her face in her hands, unable to look at Moira and decipher what her expression may be.
“This is a still made bed, my dear. Where on earth did you creep in from?” Looking up and peeking through her fingers, she could see Moira looking at her with one eyebrow raised quizzically. There was no judgment, just curiosity, and Angeline’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally at Moira’s initial reaction.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she started, praying her complexion didn’t redden and raise suspicions.
