Chapter 23

Dinner later that day was a solitary affair. Henry was accustomed to them because he had lived alone after his sister married Thomas, but now he missed having company. More specifically, he missed Miss Barnes’ company.

Sighing, he stabbed a new potato drenched in butter, using his fork to keep it stable as he cut it into smaller pieces. However, instead of putting some in his mouth, he put his utensils down and rested his chin on his hands.

“Is something wrong, Your Grace?” a servant asked. “Is the meal not to your liking?”

“It’s fine,” Henry replied. “I’m not terribly hungry this evening.”

“Shall I take it away and ask for something light to be sent to the drawing room later?” the servant enquired.

Henry shook his head. “Leave it be,” he said. “Would you give me some privacy? I’d like to be alone.”

The servant struggled not to show a reaction, but he couldn’t hide his surprise. Henry was behaving out of character, and it was Miss Barnes’ fault. Becky’s fault. He had heard Miss Ayres use that name many times, and a few of the older servants addressed her as such. It was a nickname he thought suited her immensely.

Pushing the plate away from him, he leaned in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, annoyed with himself. Rebecca had infiltrated his thoughts from every angle to the point where he couldn’t pass a moment without thinking about her. Accompanying her and his sister earlier that day had been a suicide mission.

It was death to his crumbling restraint and control, leaving him increasingly vulnerable. To make matters worse, he invited her to have hot chocolate with him in the drawing room. Henry had never done that before. Never. Not with Lady Ruth or any other woman. Yet it had seemed natural to sit in front of the fireplace and converse with Rebecca.

“Foolish, dimwitted idiot,” he muttered, running his long fingers through his dark hair.

He covered his face, mortification filling him as he recalled the words he had said just a few hours earlier. He shouldn’t have said what he said. Henry couldn’t understand what possessed him to reveal he wished he had known her years earlier. At that moment, he had experienced a deep ache for what could have been if he had known her before. It would have been even better if they had the same social status.

“Why is she doing this to me?” he groaned, gripping his hair in anguish.

She made him need things he was too afraid to want. It was becoming devilishly challenging to ignore how important she was to him. It had all happened too rapidly, leaving him unprepared for the array of emotions she evoked within him. He must really be starved for what her presence offered for him to feel this weak.

Rebecca answered to the void within him that he had ignored for many years, but now it was no longer content to remain empty. It wanted to be filled, and it seemed Rebecca was the only one qualified to do it. That was a concerning thought.

Determined not to allow his dinner to be spoiled, Henry pulled his plate towards him and cut through a roasted chicken thigh, briefly smelling it before popping it in his mouth. The savoury flavour was good but did nothing to rouse his appetite.

Still, he chewed it thoroughly and washed it down with wine. Juliana had pleaded fatigue and excused herself from dinner, so Rebecca was spending the evening in his sister’s room to keep her company. Aunt Hannah had been invited to a dinner party and would not return until later that evening. Henry was all alone unless he counted the servants who usually awaited his orders.

While he was glad Juliana had someone by her side, that didn’t stop his jealousy and mild anger towards her. Because of her, Rebecca was spending the evening away from him instead of keeping him company while they had their meal. Henry felt he also needed some of Rebecca’s time because he had come to depend on her smiles, amusing stories, and sweet smiles. He should whip himself for that alone because he was undoubtedly in the wrong. Rebecca had come to help his sister, not pander to his needs. He had no right to be possessive.

Unable to swallow another morsel of food, he stood up and headed to the drawing room. It was just as quiet in the room, suffocatingly so, but he forced himself to sit. After what seemed like hours but was likely only one or two at the most, he gave up on the idea of staying in the drawing room until bedtime. Instead, he went to the library to get a book because he felt it would be one long night.

Upon arriving in the room, he noticed a feminine, slender hand on the armchair facing away from him. His sister wasn’t one to spend time in the library, and Aunt Hannah had not yet returned from the dinner party. That only left Rebecca.

Excitement coursed through him as he slowly approached her, not wanting to disturb her if she was reading. He reached the chair, peeking over to find her fast asleep with an open book on her lap. Henry walked around the chair to see her better, smiling to himself. He had never seen her asleep before. She appeared even more angelic with her open chestnut-brown hair framing her slightly flushed face and her bosom’s steady rise and fall.

He swallowed hard, fighting the temptation to linger in that area. Instead, he looked at the book, not surprised to see it was about plants. Rebecca was always looking for ways to increase her knowledge to help others. Henry had never met a more selfless person and wondered if she ever did anything for herself. He doubted it.

The urge to watch her sleeping prompted him to take the chair beside her. He leaned over the armrest, resting his head on his fist as he stared at her. His begrudging attraction to her when he first met her had accepted that he found her pretty, but now she seemed breathtakingly gorgeous. Rebecca glowed from within, and her smile ... well, it was something worth walking over burning wood.

She would have made a remarkable duchess, but her status would never allow him to consider her a potential wife. Yet, no one but her had been able to bring his family together. Juliana was happy, Tommy was thriving, and the house felt far more cheerful. One couldn’t help noticing her when she walked into the room.

His heart stilled when she shifted, expecting her to open her eyes. However, she moved more into one corner of the armchair, allowing him to see her face better. He grinned at his good fortune. Worried the book would fall from her lap and wake her up, he reached over and gently took it away, closing it before placing it on the table.

“What will I do with you?” he whispered, gazing at her.

He didn’t want to need her but couldn’t imagine a life without her. He was caught between a stone and a rock.

Henry didn’t know how long he stared at her, but he eventually grew too comfortable and forgot about the dangers of her awakening. One moment, he was watching her sleeping form, and the next, he was staring into her golden-brown eyes. He nearly bolted out of his chair as she sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, Your Grace!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “I apologize. I must have fallen asleep.”

He also stood up, scratching his head and wondering if she noticed he had been staring.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he insisted. “I just entered the room myself and didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, looking adorable as she tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. “I should retire to bed. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

She bowed her head slightly, leaving before he could think of something to say. He wanted her to stay and keep him company, but she was tired, and nothing good could come of a man and woman being together at this time of the night.

Sighing, he watched her disappear, leaving his heart in turmoil. He was damned if he insisted she stay, and he was damned if he let her go. For the first time in his life, Henry truly understood the lure of the forbidden.