“I just read the last page.”
He took a few cautious steps closer. His eyes trailed the wide burrow of hay where I’d been reading. Again, he smiled to himself. “I did too. Finished the last volume last night at the inn.”
Finished?Lucas readUdolpho? “The inn?”
“I’ve been in Hampshire for a few days now. Your brother and I ... I wanted to get to know him better.”
My brows furrowed, and Lucas watched the spot between them. His eyes softened. He said, “My favorite part waswhen—” He tilted his head, then motioned for my book. “Do you mind if I read it to you?”
Still flustered, I shook my head and, struggling to keep hold of the blanket, handed him the book. He chuckled, taking the book, and then tugged on the blanket, which I released from my shoulders. He spread it out over the imprint I’d left in the burrow and flourished a hand at the space.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
My legs were shaking as I complied, and he wordlessly crouched beside me. His knee brushed mine as he scooted onto the blanket, glancing—nervously?—as though to ask for my permission.
I did not know what to say. My mind argued with my heart. I yearned to have him near. But he should not be here. He should not have come. With everything between us now, we could not hope to be friends.
I’d always want more. And so, I hoped, would he.
Dash him! I should be angry!Ihad made the hard decision to leave.Ihad suffered for both of us and left him to happier, much better things than I could give him. Could he not just leave me in peace?
He thumbedUdolpho’s bound leather and its pages as though it was the most precious book he’d ever touched, then opened to a page.
I perched on an elbow, studying his familiar features. Despite it all, I’d missed him so much I could cry. The strong, smooth angles of his jaw. The crease in his left cheek. His beautiful, clear blue eyes. Every freckle and every line. Every healing scar and every blemish. His lips, the perfect shade ofpink. His hair, so thick and golden. I would give anything to have him stay.
He smiled at a page. “Ah. There she is.”
“Who?” I breathed, lingering between the joy and pain of his nearness.
“Theresa.” His eyes read down the page, brightening. “My favorite character in the whole book.”
The old servant? I let myself smile as I watched him read, and he caught me, grinning back.
“Do you remember when Emily rejects Valancourt over all he had purportedly done in Paris?” he asked.
I nodded, mesmerized by his profile, his hands encasing my book.
“Here it is.” He leaned back on the hay, raised the book to nose level, swallowed, and cleared his throat. “Theresa, speaking to Emily, says, ‘Dear, dear! To see how some people fling away their happiness, and then cry and weep about it, just as if it was not their own doing, and as if there was more pleasure in weeping and wailing than in being at peace.’”
His eyes traveled the page, as though perhaps he read the words again and agreed with their wisdom.
If only it were that easy to choose peace. If only there were no consequences.
Lucas lowered the book, shifting his knees toward mine. “It would seem that Theresa, both servant and friend, who has had to watch Emily’s heartache over losing Valancourt, is frustrated. Emily could have married the man right then and there, if she’d wanted to.” Lucas’s eyes met mine, softening. “If she’d trusted him. She already knew his heart was good. Instead, they broke apart, and they were miserable.”
They were. For a long while, until the very end when the truth of Valancourt’s character was resolved, and Emily married him. In the book, Valancourt was redeemed. There would be no such redemption for me.
“It’s just a story. Fiction.”
“Fiction can still teach us things. You think there are no Theresas in the real world? No Emilys and Valancourts acting ridiculous? That book was painfully long, and yet I have learned a few valuable lessons from it. The first being that when you have something good, you don’t make excuses for why you shouldn’t have it.”
He looked so serious, his light-blue eyes so earnest, so sure. I fingered a piece of hay on my skirts and looked away.
He closed my book, tossed it aside on the blanket, and stretched out his legs. I felt his gaze wash over me with gentle examination.
“Do you have business in town?” I prodded. I really wanted to ask,When must you leave?How much time do we have?
Lucas shook his head, lounging like he had all the time in the world. He reached out and pulled a piece of hay from near my ear. His eyes found mine, watching me. “I came to see you.”
