“I was instructed to wait for Lady Paxton,” Rose responded without looking over her shoulder. “The doctor said he’d visit, and once he approves of you walking, I’m certain the viscountess will not forbid you from leaving.”
“I could dress and leave on my own,” I muttered.
This time, Rose did turn around. “But you won’t. Your mother asked you to wait. You’ve gone a whole week. One more hour shan’t hurt you.”
“It might. I’m dying inside, Rose. Utterly withering away. As someone named after a flower, you should understand my yearning to escape before I wilt completely.”
Rose merely chuckled, and I slumped back against the headboard of my bed, folding my arms. My finger tapped incessantly on my skin, and I counted my breaths.
In, out, one. In, out, two. In, out—
A tap sounded on the door, and Mother peeked inside, her smile directed at me. She came inside, closing the door behind her. “You look put-out, dear.”
“What took you so long? You are late. At least two hours late.”
Mother shook her head. “Two minutes, darling. I am two minutes later than usual, and I hope you will forgive me for it. I was speaking with your father.”
I tucked my irritation away. Temporarily. “How is he?”
News of my disappearance and condition had not done Father any favors. His cough had worsened, no doubt in response to his worrying over me. I suspected part of him blamed himself. I would visit him later and rectify that. It was not his fault that I had ventured out with a dark sky predicting rain. Or that I had gone to the ruins against his wishes. Mother had chided me thoroughly for that.
“He is a little better this morning,” she said.
That was good.
I sighed before tossing the covers off my legs. “May I dress now?”
“Not until the doctor arrives.”
“But—”
“You promised you would heed him,” Mother reminded.
“And I have. In fact, I have more than listened. My sennight was up last night. I’m hours overdue. Besides, my ankle feels fine. A bit tender is all.” I paused. “He is still here, is he not?”
Mother smiled indulgently. She knew I did not mean the doctor, for I asked about Edward every morning. Despite his promise to stay, I feared he would leave. What reason had I given him to remain? I had not told him of my change of heart. I had not confessed how much I loved him, nor expressed my forgiveness.
Yet, I hoped he knew. I hoped he understood that my simple pleading meant I needed him here.Wantedhim here.
“He is still at Kenwick,” Mother confirmed. “And he has been rather antsy all morning. He wishes to see you the moment the doctor leaves.”
My heart swelled at the prospect. For days, I had asked if Edward might visit me, but Mother had forbidden it. There were some matters of impropriety she would not allow, and having a gentleman in my bedchamber, even under supervision, was one of them. She might swoon if she knew how often we had been in each other’s company alone.
Not that I intended to tell either of my parents about those moments. Or Rus, for that matter. I had already bribed Jack with three months’ worth of pin money to keep his mouth closed about seeing Edward and I riding together. On the same horse.
Regardless, Father had agreed with Mother’s verdict, which left me excessively bored all week. Rus and Jack had each visited once, but as soon as they realized I did not knock on death’s door, they left me for their own selfish pursuits.
Perhaps not entirely selfish. Rus was attempting to learn all he could about the estate before Father’s passing. Jack, however, had no excuse. One would think after all that time on the continent he might put up with me for more than an hour, but apparently not. At least Bridget had offered to regale me with made-up adventures. Those entertained well enough.
But in the quiet moments when I was alone, my mind wandered to Edward—to our future. My memory of the collapse of the ruins was clear, but what followed remained hazy. I remembered the pain, the constant patter of the rain against my skin, and the cold seeping into my very core. I had dreamed of Edward then, imagining him lifting me into his arms and feeling the protection of his embrace.
And somehow, those dreams had manifested into reality. His voice had pulled me from my delusion. I had questioned his presence and assumed him a figment of my imagination.
Assumed him to be a quiet, desperate manifestation of my heart.
But, no. Edward had returned. He had returned forme. Rus had told me so himself. My brother’s statement had unlocked more memories. Quiet whisperings, a deep tone, an endearment.
Love, love, love. The word Edward had called me. Not Annette. Not Miss Apsley. Just love.
