“What about London?” she asked. Her voice was oddly protective, as if she were preparing herself to be hurt. Eventually, he’d get her to see that wouldn’t be necessary. It would take time, and they had plenty, he hoped.
“I’ve no place in London. Not without you.” At his words, her eyelids lowered, and he brushed his thumb against her lashes.
“What about your mother?” she asked, in that same guarded tone.
That was a question he didn’t particularly know how to answer. He was silent for a moment. He couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t miss her, but there were letters and carriages. They’d been apart for long periods of time before, separated by oceans, even.
“Do you think she’d like to live here?” Della murmured. “With us?”
Andrew’s poor, battered heart finally settled somewhere deep in his chest, where it would always live, right next to hers.
“I think she would love that.” He smiled, and so did she, and for the millionth time since he’d seen her that first day, Andrew wanted to pinch himself.
Della lay back down on his chest, and Andrew took in a deep, soothing breath that smelled exactly like her. He kissed the crown of her head.
“There are other chambers, you know,” she said, tilting her chin to look up at him. “I haven’t seen them, but I’m sure there are. We needn’t sleep in the sitting room again. As much as I’ve enjoyed it, it would likely be better for my pain if we didn’t.” As if to illustrate her point, she cracked her knuckles. “And we needn’t sleep together at all, I suppose.” She frowned at the idea, even as she said it. He watched as a line formed between her brows. “There should be separate chambers. For the man of the house. If you want them.”
“I’ve missed too much of this.” His arms squeezed around her, tight enough that she actually giggled. “If the choice is between a bed with you and one without, then there isn’t a choice at all. Though I am in agreement that a bed would be preferable to our current arrangement.”
Della hummed, and then they lay in silence for a while. Her fingernails drifted up and down his forearm. Back and forth. The motionwas oddly soothing, and his eyes started to drift closed again.
“Do you suppose we should get up?” Della asked after a bit, her voice betraying her own sleepiness. He thought the sentence might have ended on a yawn.
“What did I say, Della?” He shifted her until she lay on her back and he rolled on top of her. His head came to rest on her chest, and he sighed into her collarbone when her fingers slipped into his hair. “That isn’t a choice at all,” he murmured.
“You know,” she said after a few moments of contented silence, “while I love you dearly, and I will always be more than happy here with you like this, I will miss our letters.”
“Why would you stop writing to me?” Andrew asked. He didn’t even raise his head. He hoped she could understand him, because he wasn’t fond of the idea of moving.
“Well, what am I to do? I believe the post would be quite confused if I sent a letter to my husband addressed to my own home.”
Andrew nearly died at the use of the word. His heart seemed to malfunction, skipping a beat and soaring and falling all at the same time. Her husband. That’s what he’d be, as long as he lived. So there could be no more malfunctions of the heart, then.
“You don’t have to send them, darling.” He did pick his head up then, lazily drawing his lips over her neck and up to her cheek. “But you can still write them. Hand them to me. Or put them on my pillow, or in my coat pocket, or the drawer where I’ll keep my socks. Just because you can speak to me whenever you’d like does not mean you cannot still write. Hide the letters if you want. I’ll find them this time, I promise.”
Her face relaxed into something pleased and serene, and her arms tightened around him. That exact expression was so precious to him. He wanted to keep her looking at him like that forever. It would be his life’s work from now on.
“And you will write back?” she asked. Her fingers tugged on hiscurls again, and Andrew’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head.
“Of course, love,” he managed to mutter. He was half asleep and also deeply aroused. It was an odd combination. That was Della, though. Just like she was peace and joy personified, she was both restfulness and attraction.
“I know you will find them,” she mumbled. Her voice was as sleepy as his. Della wiggled her body around underneath him to get comfortable, and the movement of her skin against his sent a bolt of pleasure down his spine. Her body felt lax and pliable and his hands roamed down her waist, over her fevered hips toward her thighs. “You always find me.”
Epilogue
Della reached forher other ivory silk glove. She’d put the right one on already, because she considered that her bad hand. The left she’d need to use to finish getting ready. It was an odd thing, leaving that one glove until the end of her routine, but it worked for her.
As she picked up the glove, something drifted to the floor. Della smiled. She hadn’t received a note from Andrew in a few days. They’d been so busy preparing to host their first party they’d hardly had time for writing, but he’d known she was nervous for this evening. It was her first event as the host, and they’d all spent so much time and effort introducing themselves to the community near Kinloss that her parents had so horribly neglected.
Della bent down as best she could with her fitted gown and minimally mobile body to retrieve the note.
If you’re reading this, you are probably late for your own party. I love you.
—Andrew
It was possible he was correct. She tended to lose track of time in her own head, because things like punctuality were nothing in the face of her worries.
“Della!” she heard Clara yell. She did knock now, in most cases,since the chambers now belonged to her and Andrew both.
