“Oh, of course, I was terrified,” he admitted. His voice had lowered, sounding so intimate that the hair at the back of her neck stood on end. Her toes curled in her satin slippers. “However, I would rather be afraid and completely alive than stuck where everyone said I would be safe.”
Lucy flinched at those words. She was the latter, and she knew he had suspicions. His eyes caught the emotions on her face.
He looked at her intently, trying to read her like a book. The library felt so much smaller and the air thicker. Heavier. It made it difficult for her to breathe.
His eyes dipped to her lips. Before she could discard the moment as mere imagination, he reached for her cheek, not quite touching it. His thumb grazed her jaw.
Her breath hitched, but she remained where she was. She leaned her head closer to his hand, as if struggling to feel the connection she craved. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Is he going to?—?
He leaned in even closer, his eyes darkening. It almost felt like he was the only thing that existed in the library. The only important thing anyway.
The book fell onto the floor with a thud.
“Oh! I thought there was nobody here!”
Daphne stepped inside, a book clutched to her chest. It looked like she was about to swap her reading material for something else.
Daniel quickly pulled away. And just like that, the spell was broken, painfully so.
Lucy knew it might never happen again. It was a strange mood that might no longer be recreated.
Daniel then stood up and cleared his throat. His expression smoothed back into the usual polite indifference.
Her heart sank. Her assessment was correct.
“I was merely commenting on Lady Lucy’s book, Daphne,” he explained, his voice a little strained.
His sister did not seem convinced. She looked at him and then at Lucy, her eyebrows quirking up. There was a knowing look in her eyes.
“Uh, of course,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice, before she left the room in a rush. It was almost as if she was not concerned that Lucy and her brother would be left on their own. “You are so helpful with books that hers has fallen on the rug.”
Lucy blushed at the sight of her book near her left foot. She had been so close to kissing Daniel.
Could it be her imagination? No, she had not imagined it.
Yet she also did not imagine the look of polite regret on Daniel’s face.
Chapter Seventeen
“Alady should always display some grace. She is expected to be the anchor, and not the storm in any room,” Joshua advised.
Lucy had never been a rebel like Victoria, but at that moment, her mind went against what her brother was telling her. She was feeling constrained, and she could not help but want to push back and finally be the storm.
Joshua adjusted his already neatly placed cuffs. It made Lucy wonder if, despite his calmness, he was as nervous as she was, standing at the edge of the Redmoor ballroom for the last night of festivities at the estate.
The Redmoor ballroom looked like it had been pulled from a Highland dream, with its heavy tartans draping the walls. When she inhaled, she smelled heather, blending nicely with expensive wax.
She was in a dream. The only thing that removed her from the dream was Joshua’s hand, which was suddenly on her elbow once more. His fingers dug into her skin like a warning:Lucy, you are here to behave. Even though she was wearing a thick dress with a high neck, she could still feel the effects of his possessiveness.
“You look pale, Lucy,” he murmured, sounding concerned. His eyes swept her up and down, his brows deeply furrowed.
When did he start having deep lines on his forehead? It looked like Joshua was hurtling into old age when he was fairly young. He should not be looking at her too much. He should not be worrying about her. Instead, he should be finding a wife to solidify his legacy.
“I—I am fine,” she stammered a response.
She hated that she sounded like she was actually ill. Perhaps it was because she was not fine. Not fine at all. Physically, though, she was doing quite well. Inside her, she had to deal with constant turmoil.
