She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but the effort did little to stop the tears from flowing.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was raw. “How did you know to come?”
“I guessed what had happened when I came to call upon you and saw your foyer decked in black crepe.”
“Of course.” Her attention went to the window and for a second it seemed like something had drawn her attention. Until Callum noted the faraway look in her eyes. It appeared she wasn’t really present.
He wasn’t surprised. She’d been dealt a terrible shock.
Reaching out, he caught her hand and she turned, her gaze dropping toward the spot where he held her. “There’s a great deal I’d like to tell you, but right now I simply want you to know that I’ve come to offer whatever support you might need.”
“I read what you wrote,” she told him without raising her gaze. “I’m the Lady Librarian.”
Callum’s gut spun and a cold chill swept down his spine, but he fought his way past it. “I know. I realize I’m not supposed to, but I found out yesterday. That’s why I called on you last evening, because I thought you might have read it, and I understand if it changes the way you feel about me.”
“It made me doubt everything you and I have shared these past weeks, but your showing up here speaks volumes. I’m glad you came.”
So was he. It would, he hoped, grant him the chance to make himself heard. He squeezed her hand.
“Will you be staying?” she asked, her gaze finally finding his.
He nodded. “As long as it takes.”
“I’ll speak with you later then.” The words were barely more than a croak.
Callum drew her back into his arms and hugged her once more before letting her go.
It took a long time before she returned and when she did, she wasn’t alone.
14
Emily felt both hollow and raw. It had been an extremely difficult day thus far. News of Grandmama’s death had arrived at eight o’clock in the morning before she or her parents had gone down to breakfast. Arrangements had quickly been made, mostly by Papa, who’d immediately taken charge since Mama could do little but sit and weep.
Emily had done her best to console her, even though she herself had been gripped by loss.
The carriage ride had been a solemn journey. No one had spoken a word. When they’d arrived at Seaton Hall, Emily’s aunts and uncles had all been ready to greet them. Silence had been the predominant theme, and it had been awful. It stood in stark contrast to Grandmama’s spirited personality, making her loss all the more pronounced.
Now, surrounded by family in the Seaton Hall parlor, Emily took the tea someone offered and drank, appreciating the soothing effect the heat offered.
How many tears had she cried?
She’d no idea, but it was a lot – a constant stream of agony that had dampened most of her handkerchiefs.
Her gaze wandered to where Callum sat, his expression as grave as the mood filling the parlor. His arrival had been a lovely surprise. Despite the pain he’d caused her, she’d needed him more than she’d realized. His embrace had been a wonderful comfort. And the fact that he’d chosen to be here also proved he cared. It lifted her spirits a little and gave her hope.
Perhaps Mama had been right. Maybe his feelings for her had changed since they’d started spending more time together. Would it then be fair of her to judge him for what his opinion of her had been before? Her own opinion of him had not been positive either.
No, but she wouldn’t have put it in print?
She sighed and drank some more tea while her aunts and uncles spoke with her parents and Grandpapa in hushed tones. All had offered congratulations to her on her upcoming wedding, which had been a strange experience indeed since they were presently trying to plan for a funeral.
“Why must we sit here like this?” Emily blinked at the realization that she had spoken the words out loud. She glanced around, aware the conversation had ceased and that everyone stared at her. “Forgive me. I’ll just… I believe I’m in need of fresh air.”
She stood while everyone tracked her movement.
“Shall I come with you?” Mama inquired.
“No. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
