Page 95
He savored the gratitude in the voluntary touch of her lips.
He had a great deal to be grateful for, too. Somehow, he’d secured her agreement to wed. And she hadn’t once asked him about his injured hand.
All would be well.
They would begin anew and leave the past entirely behind.
He clasped her in his arms, drew her against his chest and held her close, an embrace that communicated all he could not.
The fullness in his heart might be love. But love felt heavier than he’d expected.
With her he would have quiet.
And a tiny, insidious part of him wondered—would the quiet release the hellhounds he’d long been trying to outrun?
Chapter Ten
Throughout the beginning of December, the Wainwright and D’Acre families passed most days in the family parlor at Ravenswood, a sprawling Tudor manor. The parlor was unusually spacious, not so large as to rival the Great Room, but big enough for the party of six—Adrian, Eliza, Emily, Millie, Nettie and Lenora—to comfortably accommodate their separate activities without any sense of intrusion.
Lenora crossed the long gallery on her way to the parlor. She could almost hear faint ghostly sounds of viols, lutes and harps from the house’s earliest era. She shivered as she shifted her portable writing desk so the weight rested on her opposite arm.
She supposed she could have asked for help. Then again, she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to her task.
Nearly four weeks had passed since she’d last seen Asquith. She’d intended to write him daily, but she’d been unable to compose a single missive. She! The family's designated letter-writer and the one most thrilled by a good turn of phrase.
She couldn’t imagine what he’d think if she let any more time pass.
Her plan this morning was to lay out everything she needed on the table situated next to the window overlooking the maze. Hopefully, with her memories as inspiration, the words she wished to express would finally flow.
She reached the parlor and found Eliza and Nettie already present. Eliza was sewing in the eastern corner, where the light was currently best, and Nettie, reclining on a chaise longue, with her nose buried in a book. Lenora took her seat nearest the oriel window.
She set down her box and removed the items—her iron gall ink (a Houghton & Gunn special blend), her box of cut crow feather quills, her penknife, a small brush to clean the quill, wax, seal, and, finally, a fresh, beautiful piece of bluish, hot-pressed writing paper, already cut.
It was so like Simon to gift her a quire of paper so she could write to him while they were apart. He was thoughtful that way.
He had proven he could care for Lenora both as his ward and as his lover, but did he care about her, too? Caring for someone differed slightly from caring about someone.
Caring for someone could be intrusive—the way that Simon had decided on her behalf that they would not suit. Caring about...
Well, Adrian and Eliza aptly demonstrated caring about, as did Harbury and Cassie.
Did Simon see her as having value and importance in his life the way Adrian did Eliza, the way that Harbury did Cassie?
As Lord and Lady Asquith, could they create the same tranquil happiness her sisters had found?
She believed they could. In time, she would know.
I trust him. She mouthed the words as a reminder. Before acting, he meticulously weighed every potential consequence, especially when a loved one’s well-being was at stake.
Except for that time he’d raised his voice in the maze.
And the occasion he’d lost his temper in the stables.
And, last Season, after Harbury insulted Cassie at Almack's.
She’d almost forgotten...
Asquith had hunted Harbury down and threatened him with a flintlock to shock Harbury into making reparation. A scheme his mother had called brilliant and which Millie and Eliza had defended as strategy, not violence.
