“Then I shall find somethingyou’lllike so you can read it to me!” She grinned at him, then tugged on her mother’s hand, hurrying down the dirt path opposite the Pavilion.
Graham matched my slow pace, soaking in the views despite his family strolling ahead.
“You are never this quiet. It is disconcerting,” I said.
He pursed his lips and gave me a look. “I am quiet because you seem to prefer me that way.”
“That’s not—” I started to protest, but he was right. I’d said things to him I shouldn’t have. I’d been cross and cruel. It was just, after this morning, Graham seemed like a different person almost. Like I’d put on my own form of spectacles and the man I’d been hating so fiercely, had named my eternal enemy, finally came into view, his fuzzy edges layered on top of one another to form a clearer picture. “Perhaps I have been harsh in the past.”
His steps slowed. He squinted at me, frowning. “Don’t do this,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t pity me because of what you saw this morning.”
Was that what I felt? Did I pity him?
“I like my life as it is,” he added sternly.
I bristled. Was it so wrong that my view of him had changed? That I wanted to be kinder to him? “Forgive my attempt at civility. It seems your preferences are so inconstant that I shouldn’t have wasted the effort.”
He winced, and we stared at each other, testing the limits of who’d break first. Or maybe trying to figure out how to talk to each other like normal people. How to have a conversation without reopening old wounds we’d been poking at for years.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
I threw my hands up. Intolerable man. I wastrying, truly trying to understand him and treat him better. Could he not help me at all?
“I do not know, Graham,” I sputtered. Perhaps he did not wish for things between us to change, but they had. And like it or not, we’d be civil.
We only needed to practice. I searched the view encircling us and asked the first question that came to my mind. “Are there gardens at the Pavilion?”
“Yes,” he answered flatly, the slightest note of question in his voice.
“One day soon I would love to see them.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because that is what people do in gardens. They promenade.” Mine was the well-worn voice of a patient teacher.
“The Pavilion does not seem to meet your expectations. Perhaps our time will be better spent elsewhere.”
He loved the Pavilion, and I’d offended him. For so big a man, he was easily wounded. I thought of all I’d learned about him. I did not necessarily want him around when Papa returned, but that did not mean I had to reject him fully. We could be acquaintances who saw each other on the streets of London and waved a passing “Good day” now and again.
I sighed, then spoke with a gentler tone. “Sometimes theview is different when you look a little closer. I’d like to give the Pavilion a second chance.”
A crease formed between his brows. He looked back at the Pavilion, raising a hand over his eyes to see it clearly. Then he glanced back, clear confusion written on his face. “You are never this kind,” he said in as gentle a fashion as I had a moment ago. “It isverydisconcerting.”
I should’ve been offended or defensive, snapping back at him with some clever retort. Instead, I lifted my hands, palms up, and said, “Perhaps you should take a closer look, Graham.”
He looked down at me, watching, waiting. The tips of his ears turned pink. How had I never noticed how sensitive he was? He’d endured difficult circumstances and often portrayed such a rough and confident exterior; I had never considered that it all was a façade. Until now.
“Very well,” he said in a soft voice.
He offered me his arm with a question in his eyes as he swallowed hard. Like I might reject him. Like my refusal would hurt him. In truth, I’d stuck my nose up at his offerings a hundred times before. My cheeks pinked as I remembered how he’d once asked me to dance the last set at a dinner party, likely to impress my father, and I’d said no, claiming a headache and ending my night early just to spite him. I’d been laughing seconds before with two ladies my age. He’d straightened, then turned to the girl beside me, who’d accepted.
I hadn’t hurt him then, had I?
I laced my arm through his. His arm flexed as though by instinct. Was this as strange for him as it was for me? Strange, but different enough to send sparks of warmth through mychest. Graham held his arm firm, supporting my hand and leading me toward an unconnected building just down the way. Tall pillars lined the front, and the closer we walked, the more distinct the music became.
“It’s much more than a library,” Graham explained as he led me inside. “There’s music, a billiards table, a reading room. We’ve a family subscription, so if you find something of interest you’d like to borrow while you’re here, I am happy to oblige.”
“Thank you,” I said, but I was distracted. The room was enormous. People were everywhere.Bookswere everywhere. There must have been thousands. Signs with things for sale were at every turn, and walls full of bookshelves welcomed the ladies and gentlemen gathered together, perusing the titles. Tables sat sporadically throughout the open space, perfect for flipping through pages or setting down one’s things. A clerk worked at a larger desk at the back, loaning out books to patrons.
