He reached for her, as he could do nothing but. Her hand clasped his, and finally, she smiled. He was completely shattered or melted or burned. He felt as if he’d left the world of the living behind for weeks, and now he’d just become something new. Something that was entirely hers, if she’d have him.
“Andrew.” Her voice barely reached his ears, but her hand squeezed his, and that was so much more than enough.
Della stood as far upright as she could in the dark confines of the carriage, and he hesitated to move. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. He’d touched every inch of her skin, but he had no idea if she’d want him to touch her at all now. Eventually, as she struggled to lower herself to the ground, his free hand rested at her waist. That damned hip. She didn’t say it aloud, but he could tell she was thinking it. It was such a gift to be able to look at her and know the line of her thoughts. It was such a privilege to look at her at all.
Her right hand gripped his shoulder, her left still entwined withhis. She found her footing, and he reached into the carriage to find her walking stick. Andrew had to extricate himself from her to do so, and it was more painful than that morning he’d woken up alone. Then, she’d been long gone. Like smoke in the wind. Now, she was right in front of him. Close enough to touch, and he didn’t know if he could.
He didn’t know if showing up here was a grave mistake.
“Andrew,” she whispered again as he passed her walking stick along, “I believe we need to talk.”
Those words were terror inducing on their own, but the downtrodden expression on her face confirmed that he was indeed in the midst of a horrible reality of his own making. He’d come here for an explanation. One more chance, he’d told himself. He’d give them one more chance before he left her alone forever. It seemed she was eager to take that one chance and use it to break him.
“Of course.” He nodded, his hands behind his back. He didn’t trust those hands or his own ability to control them.
Around them, he eventually realized, the carriages had become hives of activity. There were trunks everywhere, more than he’d ever seen in any one place. The coachmen helped everyone disembark and unload. Clara ran the entire length of the drive. Mrs. Goldsmith waved Harry away from several of the trunks. Andrew assumed those were her kitchen implements and she was trying to ensure their safety. Harry began directing the coachmen, which was admirable as none of them, Andrew included, had any clue where to put anything. Gwendoline stood in front of one of the large bay windows, staring up at the height of the turrets. Her neck was bent back as far as it would go, and she seemed frozen in awe.
Andrew knew that feeling. He found comfort in it, actually. Freezing in the face of a chance at happiness had been easier. He’d forced himself to take action now, just this one last time, and now he was certain the fragments of his heart would be handed to him on an old, rusted silver platter.
They should talk, she’d said.
He wasn’t sure he was capable of that, of listening to her dismiss him and responding in a polite, respectable way.
“Should you not settle in first?” Andrew said. It was one last effort to postpone the inevitable. It wouldn’t make it easier, but he wouldn’t have to face it now, either. It was an opportunity to freeze once more. “You’ve only just arrived after such a long journey.”
He looked at her in earnest, now that she was in the vast sunlight. Her hair was escaping its pins, and her gown was terribly wrinkled from all that time spent in such a confined space. Her eyes were clear, though. There was none of the exhaustion he expected to see. Rather, there seemed to be a sense of peace. He thought she’d appear softened, as if almost asleep. Instead, she was softened in just the opposite way—as if she’d just woken up.
“Oh, yes,” she agreed, looking down at her feet. She wore those riding boots again. The sight of them was so endearing that Andrew’s chest ached. “I suppose we should. Everyone is”—she looked around them at the flurry of motion—“rather excited to be here.”
“I see,” he chuckled. Despite the tension between them, the rest of the traveling party seemed to feel no such apprehension. Their thrill was palpable, even in the warm Scottish air that surrounded the estate. “Please, don’t let me stop you. Go and see your new home.”
At that, Della smiled. It was so overly bright, his eyes almost couldn’t stand it. His body warned him to turn away, to protect himself, as if he’d been staring right into a raging fire and waiting there for it to consume him.
“Would you...” Della took a deep breath in the middle of her sentence. She looked down at her feet again for a moment, then met his eyes once more. There was a certain vulnerability there he’d never seen. Immediately, he understood that she’d never before let him see it. “Would you come with me?”
“Of course,” he answered reflectively. Of course he’d go with her.Of course he’d stay for a while, or for all of his remaining days. It was always his instinct when it came to her, to any question she had, to offer a certain, unrestrained affirmative. Whatever she asked of him, it would always be yes. Even if, at the end of the day, she asked him to leave.
Della turned away from him to begin her very first walk into Kinloss, into the home she now rightfully owned.
Without warning, her hand wandered over the sleeve of his coat, slipping her arm through his and resting her hand at the crook of his elbow. Her doe eyes looked up at him once more in uncertainty, as if she were asking for permission or anticipating a refusal of her touch.
Somehow, she still didn’t know his answer would always beyes.
He didn’t voice that, not yet. Now wasn’t the time. With her fingers tucked into his left arm, his right hand covered hers. He squeezed gently, just as she had a few long moments ago. Her face softened. There was that newly awakened peace again. He would do anything to keep that look on her face, to give her that tranquility forever.
Della leaned on him the entire way up the stone stairs, and some reckless part of Andrew hoped she wasn’t just in need of help, but she was also in want of him.
Chapter Forty
Della had neverbeen so overwhelmed in all her life. Kinloss was a massive, sprawling estate, and she was suddenly its owner. Clara had worked miracles assuring all of their belongings made the journey safely, and she continued to work them as they unpacked it all. Where Clara and Harry were methodically sorting everything out and Mrs. Goldsmith had already taken off to assemble the kitchen, Della stood in the hall in a daze. It felt as if the home spun around her, so awash with activity, and she stayed stagnant. She wasn’t necessarily immobile in a physical sense. Shecouldmove, she supposed. She simply had no notion of where to go.
“I took the liberty of... preparing some things. Just dusting off the furniture and airing out the rooms. Perhaps I should not have, but I arrived—” Andrew spoke lowly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.
“Andrew.” Despite the sinking discomfort in her chest, Della smirked. “Do not apologize. Please do not make me say it again.”
He smiled, too, and some of the weight fell off of her shoulders. She didn’t know how to do this—to talk to him. Even the confrontation with her parents hadn’t felt so high stakes. Nothing had ever been as important as this moment, this second chance with him, and she had no idea where to start. She could tell him not to apologize, though, so that’s what she did.
“How did you arrive so early?” she asked him. It wasthe shock of her life to find him standing there right outside her coach, but she hadn’t stopped long enough to think how such a thing was even possible.
