“How long were you planning to visit with Juliette?” he asked, eyeing the baggage.
“I haven’t decided.” She kept her gaze averted from him, which wasn’t a good sign. Though logically, she had the right to go with her sister whenever she pleased, he sensed that something was very wrong. This wasn’t Amelia’s way, to run from her problems.
A sense of foreboding caught him in the gut. He didn’t want her to go at all, particularly if she was unhappy.
Amelia rose from her chair and walked toward him. “How is Christine today?”
“Each day she improves,” he said. His wife nodded, but her attention remained upon the packed trunk.
She’s leaving you, unless you stop her, a voice inside taunted him. And perhaps directly addressing the problem would be best.
“Are you planning to return to Castledon?”
She stared at him and let out a slow breath. “Do you want me to?” Before he could say yes, she continued, “You hardly spoke to me when Christine was ill. I tried to be there for you, but you didn’t want my presence.”
That wasn’t true at all.
“I was afraid of losing her,” he insisted. “Katherine died, and all I could imagine was having to bury Christine, too. I couldn’t think from one moment to the next.” He crossed his arms, eyeing her steadily. “But I knew you were there.”
He had done a poor job of showing his gratitude, but every time he let himself think of Amelia, confusion knotted inside him. He didn’t want her to leave.
“Thank you for staying with both of us, all those days,” he continued. “And for all that you did.”
She stood without speaking for a long moment. Then at last, she admitted, “I felt like an outsider. As if I wasn’t supposed to be there at all.”
“No you’re wrong,” he admitted. Far from it. He’d needed her, more than he could have guessed. “But I didn’t know what to say to you, after you saw me lose my temper.” He didn’t doubt she was shocked by what she’d witnessed. He’d lost control of his rage, and it had felt so good to release the anger within him. “That isn’t who I am.”
“I wasn’t afraid of you on that day,” she said. She clenched her hands together and confessed, “But it’s too hard for me to be here, knowing that you don’t love me.” Her eyes filled up with tears, and she continued, “It hurts too much, when I want more than you can give.”
He didn’t know what to say, especially when it struck him that hedidcare. If she left him now, the house would return to the emptiness that had haunted him for so many years. Amelia had quietly slipped into his life, making him aware of how badly he needed her.
But if he said that now, she wouldn’t believe him. Instead, he took her hand in his. “Let’s go outside and talk.”
It was a means of delaying his answer, for he needed time to come up with all the logical reasons why she shouldn’t go. He took her gloved hand, suddenly aware of how nice it was to have her fingers intertwined with his.
But her face remained pale, as if nothing he said would change her mind.
As they walked together toward the gardens, he went over the list in his mind. There were many reasons why she should remain at Castledon, and he fully believed that with the right one, she would agree to stay.
It might not have been the best idea to bring her to the moonlight garden, but at least here, they were away from eavesdroppers.
“I believe that we are well suited to each other,” he began. “It might not have been the marriage you dreamed of, but you have a good home, enough money to spend however you like, and all of your freedom.”
“I never cared about money,” she reminded him. “And I thought that this…existence…would be enough for me, once. It isn’t now.”
The flat sincerity in her voice brought another ripple of unease. She sounded as if she truly meant to leave, no matter what he said. Damn it all, he was making a mess of this. He laced his fingers with hers, as if the physical gesture could stop her.
But maybe he could say the words she wanted. He would say anything if it meant keeping her here.
“What if I told you that Idolove you?” The words felt foreign on his tongue, as if it were another man saying them. But the moment he spoke, they felt right. It was as if the years of ice had cracked apart, filling him with a strange sense of purpose. There was relief in admitting it to her, and the more he thought of it, the more he realized that he wasn’t giving her false words.
Hedidlove her. His earlier belief, that he was incapable of loving a woman again, was blatantly wrong. His love for Amelia wasn’t less than his love for Katherine—it was equal in a different way.
Amelia had given him strength when he’d had nothing left. He’d needed her desperately, and she hadn’t shied away from him when he’d been at his worst.
Perhaps logic wasn’t the way to a woman’s heart at all. Perhaps it was about loving her and telling her so.
“You’re just saying that.” Amelia let go of his hand, dismissing his declaration as if he’d told her it was going to rain.
