Had he said something or done something to lead her to this misconception? He didn't think so, but the truth was he couldn't recall. Mostly because he'd been too bloody busy with work, either due to the cases or to prevent thinking of her.
It was muddling. And rather than answer his question, instead of explaining so they could get past this, she'd somehow retreated. Was quietly sitting there on that bench across from him. So close their knees would touch if he shifted his legs.
Yet in this moment, he felt as though an ocean lay between them. And then, before he could find the right words to steer them past these difficult feelings, the carriage drew to a halt.
They'd arrived at their destination.
9
Gabriella had not felt this horrid since she was a child and had lied to her sisters about the biscuits. She’d pilfered the last two from the tin in the kitchen, and when she’d heard someone coming, she’d hastily shoved them into her pinafore pocket. Disappointment had showed on Miranda’s and Fanny’s faces when they discovered none was left. Because that was what Gabriella told them before walking off and finding a spot where she could enjoy those biscuits in peace.
They hadn’t tasted nearly as good as usual.
Guilt had eventually led to a tearful confession, and to the forgiveness she hadn’t felt she deserved. After that day, she’d always been brutally honest, though she had since learned that this too could have consequences.
None, however, had made her as wretched as now. The pained look in Kendrick’s eyes when she had revealed what she truly thought speared her heart. If only she could take it all back and return to the moments before, when he’d made her feel as though she were more than she’d ever dreamed of becoming.
When she’d seen herself through his eyes and realized her high regard for him was reciprocated. And what had she done in return? She’d trampled all over his compliments and turned him into a villain. It was badly done. Worse than that, it undid all the progress they’d made on a personal level.
Whatever hope she might have had of discovering whether or not she affected him as much as he had started affecting her had been obliterated. Unless she were brave enough to overcome fear of rejection and share the truth that burned in her breast.
It was one of the qualities he had remarked on. Being brave. But this… This was a whole new level of vulnerability and the risk — the change it could lead to might prove disastrous.
Then again, it might not.
She weighed the pros and cons as she watched Kendrick climb from the carriage. Continued to do so as she grasped his hand, the firm grip of his fingers closing around hers leaving her slightly breathless. An experience she had yet to grow accustomed to.
Her foot touched the ground and Kendrick began to withdraw. Soon her chance to do the right thing would be gone. This notion — the sheer panic that followed this thought — caused her fingers to dig in and hold on for all she was worth.
His questioning gaze found hers and it took every ounce of courage she possessed to not shy away, to not let go with some inane excuse about losing her balance.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted instead and prayed he would know how deeply she meant it.
“No harm done,” he muttered, a faint smile dimpling the edge of his mouth as he pulled his hand from hers. “Shall we?”
He was already turning away, intent on dismissing what had occurred between them a few minutes prior. Professional, stiff, impersonal. Without awaiting her response, he started toward the tall door leading into the barracks’ main building.
Gabriella’s heart thumped so loudly, the sound filled her ears. Courage would not be enough to right this wrong. She needed something more — something concrete to prove her…her… Her what, exactly?
Why did watching him walk away bother her so? The man infuriated her more often than not, yet her relationship with him had grown into something that made her look forward to getting to Bow Street each morning.
It was no longer about the cases alone or the intriguing puzzles they provided. It was about him. About sparring with him and knowing the pleasure of simply having him near. And the possibility she might lose that because she’d blundered was enough to make her want to sit down on the edge of the pavement in full surrender.
Because the truth was, she’d lied to him, hadn’t she? For the first time in twenty years, she’d been dishonest.
She knew damn well he did not hate her. Had seen a flicker of interest cross his face more than once when he’d looked her way. Had even felt a spark of some sort on the few occasions they’d come into contact. But he’d seemed to be making a concerted effort to touch her as little as possible these past few months. Even as he continued to watch her in ways that sent her pulse racing.
It was all so horribly confusing. And it had prompted her to say what she did in the hope of learning the truth. Of having him confess what she was too scared to. Even to herself. Childish. Undeserving of the respect she owed him.
He was almost at the steps leading up to the door. Had not even paused to check if she was following him. Her stomach began turning over. For a second she feared she might be violently ill.
No. She was made of sturdier stuff than that. She was the chief magistrate’s daughter and she would not be wrecked by emotion.
So she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and said the one thing she believed would make a world of difference. “Peter?”
He froze.
Indeed it felt as though the whole world did.
