The hint of a smile touched her lips as she opened her eyes again, although this time, her gaze did not sit anywhere near his face but instead, rested on his shoulder. “As is mine.”
“I want to believe you,” he said, his voice betraying him as it cracked with the swell of emotion within him. Heat surged up his neck as he looked away, trying to find the right words. “Your shock was real, I think.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shoulders slump, her head lowering a fraction whilst, at the same time, she maintained her quiet poise.
“I did not write that note,” she said, ever so softly. “I do not know what else I can say that would bring your trust back to me.”
When he looked back at her again, Isaac expected to see hurt in her expression, perhaps a sharpness in her eyes that spoke of the pain of his distrust. Instead, there was a softness there, a tenderness about her eyes and an openness in her face that offered him gentle understanding. Shame expanded inside him, making him want to bury his head in his hands and groan aloud. After the coldness he’d thrown at her, the guilt he’d placed upon her shoulders, and the lack of trust in his words to her even now,she was willing to stay near to him. Something hot stung at his eyes, and he tightened his jaw, pressing the sensation back.
“Then I was wrong in my belief,” he rasped, as she took a small step closer to him. “If you say that you did not write the note, then I will accept your words as the truth. Just as I can see you have done for me.”
As he spoke, he saw the way her eyes flickered, taking in each sensation his confession brought.
“I should have fought for you and for what we had promised to each other,” he finished, heavily. “I should have come to you, to beg of you to explain instead of allowing my pride to hold me back. Had I done so, then perhaps none of this would have taken place, and we would not have been lost to one another.”
Her shoulders lifted a fraction, then settled back down. Nothing was said, no comment made, no agreement or murmur of frustration. Instead, there was just the quiet acceptance of all that had been and could not ever again be changed.
“I want to understand,” he continued, a gnawing desperation in his heart. “Perhaps we might walk together one afternoon? This afternoon is not the time for long discussions.” Relief began to rise up over him like a cresting wave, desperate to crash down and flood him completely – but he could not permit it until he heard her answer. Miss Oldham frowned, a line forming between her eyebrows as she looked down at the ground between them.
“Please.” The word broke from his lips before he had an opportunity to pull it back. Aware that he sounded desperate, perhaps even a little pathetic, he kept his mouth tightly shut but his eyes held to her face, silently begging her for just one more opportunity to be in her company.
“What will it bring us, Lord Coventry?” When she lifted her head, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. “What good will it do?”
It was as if he had stepped back some two years, to when they had first begun their acquaintance. The desire then to be close to her, to have her hand in his, to enjoy the sweetness of her company whenever he could had been strong and unyielding – but it was nothing compared to the fervor within him now. It was as if his love for her had been set into a box and buried deep, only to be forcibly and furiously brought to the surface in a single, overwhelming moment. “I have felt many things these last two years,” he admitted, seeing her blink rapidly so that her tears would stay back. “Anger, most of all — at your note, at your supposed disregard, which I know now was never yours. Anger with myself for believing it. And beneath all of it, a stubbornness in my heart that would not let you go.”
The corners of her eyes rounded.
“It did not leave me, no matter how many times I demanded it,” he finished, moving closer to her, the world around them fading. “It only hid itself away — and revealed itself the moment I saw you again.” His throat tightened, afraid that she might step back and bring an end to this conversation and to any hope of their connection returning. “Even if my heart is never to be given the joy of your hand in mine again, an understanding of what took place to separate us would at least give us both clarity. That is all I can offer you, Christina. Nothing more.”
It was an intimacy to call her ‘Christina’ again, especially so soon after their tentative reconciliation, but, to Isaac’s relief, she did not draw back from him. His confession hung between them, an invisible threat that she could break at any time. The seconds of silence between them were an unbearable eternity, forcing him to curl his fingers into his palms and squeeze tight.
She pressed her lips together, her eyes fixed on him, but he could read nothing in them. Forced to wait, he shifted from one foot to the next, bracing himself for what he was sure to hear from her. This silence must mean the end of things, the severingof the fragile bond that had only just been reformed. His throat grew dry, the air around them growing heavier as he fought to stay silent. She deserved this time to consider, to think about what he had confessed and what he had asked of her.
Her eyes closed, and a shuddering breath escaped her. “Coventry.”
His heart lurched, and he made to reach for her, only for her eyes to snap open. “We can make no promises to each other.”
Isaac’s heart seized as he froze to the spot, trying to comprehend her meaning.
“I cannot pretend that my heart has not held onto you also,” she said, her voice shaking as if she were walking through a vast sea of emotions, unable to find steadiness. “But there is something more here. To be separated as we were, to be pushed apart without explanation – that concerns me. I want very much to be able to say what I hope for, but even voicing it brings me a great deal of concern.”
“I can understand that.” The relief was so deep, it was almost painful. “There is so much for us to consider. It feels as if the world has shifted one way and then tried to settle back to the way we knew it.”
“But it is still not quite as it was,” she whispered, the sheen of tears in her eyes again.
They stood there for a long moment, simply looking into each other’s eyes. In that quietness, the broken, twisted parts of his heart slowly began to heal, unfurling and shifting as he held her gaze. There was no doubt in his mind any longer, no whisper of confusion that she might still be pretending, deceiving, and discarding him. No, there was only the truth that he loved her still and wanted to yield his heart to her again.
“Perhaps we might walk tomorrow?” she said, eventually. “My sister will chaperone.”
He wanted to step closer, to catch her hand in his and close the distance still between them. Instead, he only nodded.
“I should return to Sophie.” A tiny smile flickered across her lips. “I look forward to being in your company again tomorrow, Coventry.”
“I will wish the hours away,” he murmured, as she walked away, a glance flung back over her shoulder towards him. Healing had begun, certainly, Isaac did not know whether it would ever bring them back into one another’s arms – and how great a torment that would be
As she turned to go, she paused. "Coventry — bring your letter. The one you received from me — or rather, the one you believed was from me."
He frowned. "Why?"
