She hadn’t hesitated.
This yes felt different from any other yes she’d ever uttered in her life.
This yes wouldn’t simply lead her from this room.
This yes would lead her into an altogether different future from the one she’d seen for herself five minutes ago.
Her heart, which she’d only recently become intimately acquainted with, knew it.
Yes.
And she took his hand.
Yes.
The first yes in a series of yeses today—Rhys hoped.
But he wouldn’t push his luck.
He would take this one yes—for now.
Nerves jittering through his veins, his heart in his throat, Rhys found himself to have suddenly become his least eloquent self as he and Tilly made their way through Lord Percival’s residence and into the carriage. To her questions like, “How are you?” and “Where are we going?” he replied, “Good,” and “You’ll see,” and let that serve for conversation.
What he wanted and how he needed to be were at direct odds with one another.
He wanted to be close to Tilly…to hold her and feel the soft weight of her body within the embrace of his…to be one with her.
But he couldn’t entertain those thoughts, much less act upon them.
Not if he were to play fair and leave her with that which she’d only recently discovered and valued most—choice.
So, when they’d entered the carriage, he’d sat across from her and let her ask questions and watch him with that bewildered, curious look in her topaz-blue eyes.
“You’re being very mysterious.”
“I know.”
He needed to keep his distance from her for now.
He thought—hoped—she would understand.
It wasn’t long before the carriage was slowing to a stop. Christmas Day appeared to be the one day of the year there was no traffic in London. He glanced out the window and saw they’d reached their destination—Burlington Arcade.
Tilly, too, leaned forward to glance out the window. Her brow wrinkled ever so slightly, but she held her tongue until they’d alighted from the carriage. “I don’t think any shops are open, if you were thinking to pick something up.”
“Follow me, Miss Birdwell.”
He was being enigmatic, but from the smile that tickled at the corner of her mouth, he thought she might like that.
Thirty or so seconds later, their echoing footsteps came to a stop in front of their destination—Number 27.
“Rhys?” came her questioning voice.
“Aye?”
“What’s this about?”
And though she’d asked the question, there hung a near imperceptible thread of knowledge within.
