“You know that you did not.”
“That was rhetorical, and you know it. We were in Kent, with Hugh and Kate. I knew I was nearing that point—love—but when I tipped over the line… She was glorious. And I ran—ran all the way back to London, where I lost a small fortune in the hells of Piccadilly. It was a desperate attempt to outdrink and outgamble my feelings. Didn’t help. Not for one second. All that to say, I understand. Love—it’s absolutely terrifying. Scariest thing in the world.”
“It is—absolutely terrifying.”
“Right now, I’m completely petrified. Our child isn’t even here yet, and I love them more than life. And I’m panicked for Jules too. She’s being brave, as usual. But her mother passed in childbirth. And her stepmother never recovered from her stillborn. We’re both pretending, all day every day, that we’re not terrified.”
“How do you do it?”
“I tried being without her.Thatwas the only thing that felt worse.”
“You think so?”
“I know it. And you do too.”
“I do?”
“All the agony of losing Gabriel, but you would do it all over again if you had the chance. You would choose to fall in love with him again, every single time. Even knowing how it would end. Wouldn’t you? Because the only thing worse than losing someone you love is never having had them at all.”
It wasn’t until he handed me a delicately embroidered handkerchief that I noticed the tears on my cheeks. The material was far too fine to use. Juliet was incredibly talented. One corner bore his initials with little forget-me-nots woven around them.
“Now that I’ve made you cry… What’s this about the note?”
Twenty-Eight
CADIEUX HOUSE, LONDON - JUNE 16, 1816
CELINE
The air wasthick and heavy with humidity that night. Or perhaps it was anticipation. Michael’s words still rang in my ears and my head. He was right. I would do it over again. I would choose Gabriel every single time, even those last moments holding his hand. Even the agonizing, devastating weeks, months, years that followed.
It had been worth it.
If I was honest, I had suspected for several days that William would be worth it too. Or he could be. I would have to take the risk to be certain. But as he babbled on across the table about Davina’s latest escapade at Wayland’s, his eyes a bright cobalt blue and razor cheeks flushed with delight, I rather thought that I knew he was.
He was such an intriguing combination of discrepancies. Sharp, hardened angles softened by a warmth within. Familiar in death and loss and naive in love and lust. Guarded and blustery before opening up with naked, earnest vulnerability.
I was a rather poor conversationalist. Though my artless, wordless study of him was sufficient to encourage his story. It was charming, what little of it I was listening to. It would not be such a terrible fate, watching his animated face retell stories at the table night after night, year after year. In fact, I was hard-pressed to consider a fate I would enjoy more. This kind, loyal, intelligent, witty, handsome man for company? It would be no hardship at all. There was no better fate.
There were things to discuss. The conclusion of my discussion with Michael being nowhere near the bottom of the list. But quite frankly, those didn’t interest me at the moment. No, at present, I was aware of my body in a purely feminine way. And I was aware of his body in that same way. I had mapped the distance between our angled seats.
In my mind, I had yanked him to me with a handful of cravat and fallen into his arms. Unfortunately, if he knew the direction my thoughts took, he gave no indication of it.
Which left me in the awkward position of trying to implement my plan. The one that involved the rest of the evening luxuriating between the sheets and exploring all the different ways to bring each other pleasure. Not separating until the sun rose and set and rose again—perhaps thrice more.
What this man lacked in experience, he more than compensated for in enthusiasm when he’d kissed me. I had absolutely no reason to suspect the boudoir would be any different.
He was midsentence when I interrupted, unable to stifle the want careening through my blood for a moment longer.
“William?”
His pause was lengthy, likely parsing his last few words for the offense. “Yes?” he asked cautiously, drawing the word out. Waiting for a reproach.
“Have you given any more thought to our conversation that first night? In the hall?” By the way his jaw ticked, he more than understood me.
“Have I given any thought to… Constantly. Every moment. It’s quite thoroughly driven me to distraction. A man does not forget a conversation like that, love.”
“And are you opposed to exploring our other option tonight?”
