Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A n owl hooted somewhere in the darkness beyond the library windows, jolting Lionel out of a surprisingly peaceful slumber. He blinked, not quite knowing where he was, or why it was not a terrible nightmare that had chased him out of his rest.

His confusion deepened as he realized he was not alone, a weight curled against him, soft breath tickling his neck. The fire had smoldered down to the embers and the candle nearby had sputtered out, so he could only see her by the haze of silver moonlight that snuck in through a gap in the drapes.

We fell asleep…

He remembered holding her, he remembered her telling him that she would help him to sleep, and he remembered being glad to embrace her, but how could he have fallen asleep with her in his arms? Why had she not woken him up or moved back to her reading chair?

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he carefully shifted his head to get a better look at her. She rested against him, her head on his shoulder, her legs draped over his, curled up into him. She was warm and at peace, her face a picture of calm content as she slowly breathed in and out, entirely asleep.

I have never seen anyone so perfect in all my life. I have never slept so well in all my life. He longed to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, worried that the tickle of it might bring her out of her restful slumber. He longed to kiss her forehead and adjust his arms to hold her tighter, but instead he just stared at her as an uneasy feeling began to crackle in the center of his chest.

Panic.

No… no, no, no, this cannot be happening. His heart began to thunder, his warm skin suddenly chilled by a cold sweat that prickled down the back of his neck. He needed space, he needed to get out of that chair and out of that library as quickly as possible, before the feelings that grew within him started to extend their roots, to the point where he would not be able to remove them.

“Lionel?” Amelia mumbled in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering.

He sat perfectly still, praying she would not wake up. He could not have her seeing him like this, in such a state of distress.

You are falling in love with her, a soft voice whispered in the back of his mind. It is quite all right. You can love her if you wish it.

He scrunched his eyes shut, dragging in breath after strained breath, willing that voice to be quiet. He could not fall in love with her. He could not entertain the idea of falling in love with her and being happy with her, for if he allowed himself to do that, he would take leave of his senses. He would become furious with the world, and with fate, when he had fought so hard to make peace with it.

“I am sorry, my darling,” he murmured, permitting himself to press one last, soft kiss to her slightly furrowed brow. “I would love you if I could. I would love you with all my heart, if it would not break you one day.”

She mumbled something incoherent, nuzzling against his shoulder, still fast asleep.

Taking his chance, he lifted her as carefully as he could, and stood with her in his arms, wondering what on earth to do. He did not feel comfortable letting her sleep in the reading chair, for the library had turned rather cold, but nor did he want to risk her waking up as he carried her to her bedchamber.

Deciding that the latter meant she would, at least, be warm, he braced against the pain that shot up his injured leg and headed out of the library.

The manor was silent as he carried her through the hallways and up the stairs, pausing here and there to make sure she was still asleep. For someone who had been having trouble sleeping, she seemed to have gotten over it, breathing softly, her expression remaining peaceful.

I wish I had met you in another time, when I was another person. His heart sank as he continued to wield her up to her chambers, pushing the door open with his hip and carrying her inside.

He took her over to her bed and lay her down as carefully as he could, freezing every time she made a movement or muttered something. In truth, he was just glad he had not tripped on the stairs with her or caught his foot on the rug, sending him sprawling forward. Apparently, he had been relieved of his clumsiness for a short while.

Gently pulling the coverlets up to her chin, he perched on the edge of the bed and gazed down at her for a while.

“I will keep my promise,” he said quietly. “I will not disappear again, but… I cannot be near you. It is too difficult. I want so much more than I can ever have, and I am sorry that I have entangled you in this. I was not supposed to fall for you, and you were not supposed to want me to.”

Amelia smiled in her sleep, making his heart hurt all the more, worse than any lingering injury.

“Rest well,” he whispered, getting to his feet.

On weary legs, he left her alone in the bedchamber he would never share with her, wishing that things could be different, wishing that he had never come back from war at all.

“Good morning, My Lady!” Bea’s cheery voice pierced through the pleasant dream that Amelia had been having, of a picnic by a lake, where jeweled dragonflies had skittered across the crystal-clear water and vibrant butterflies had fluttered down to sip honey from the cakes she had been enjoying with her husband.

Amelia’s eyes flew open, her heart thudding in fright. “Goodness, you scared me!”

“Apologies, My Lady,” Bea said, blinking. “I didn’t realize you’d still be sleeping. It is already half an hour past the time that I usually wake you.”

Amelia frowned, glancing over at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. “How odd…”

Since childhood, after her mother’s death, her father had implemented a strict regime. If Amelia slept even five minutes past the hour she was supposed to be awake, she would be struck three times on the hands with a thin cane. As such, she had awoken at exactly the same time every day for as long as she could remember.

“Did you want to sleep longer, My Lady?” Bea asked. “I can come back.”

Amelia shook her head, rubbing her tired eyes. “No, no, that is quite all right. I am awake now, as I ought to be. Goodness, I do not know what came over me, to be so late in waking.”

She paused, realizing that something was not right with the scene around her. Firstly, she was still wearing her winter housecoat. Secondly, the last thing she remembered was being in the library with Lionel, safe and secure in his arms, watching him with untold joy as he had fallen asleep holding her.

She had considered leaving him to sleep in the reading chair and returning to her chambers, but she had been so warm and content that she had not been able to move away from him. And soon enough, she had felt herself growing sleepy.

But how can I be here? Unless she had sleepwalked, she had not put herself in bed.

“Bea?”

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Did someone bring me up to my room last night?”

The lady’s maid eyed her strangely. “Whatever do you mean, My Lady?”

Realizing that it would be quite impossible to explain, Amelia shook her head and mumbled “never mind” as she got out of bed. Besides, Lionel would be at breakfast; he would be able to tell her what on earth had happened, and how she had suddenly been transported from the library to her bedchamber with no memory of the in-between.

She dressed quickly with Bea’s help, and hurried out of the bedchamber, eager to see her husband again. There had been some awkwardness last night, but she hoped it would not be there today, after they had enjoyed such a pleasant few hours in one another’s company in the library.

As she entered the breakfast room, however, her enthusiasm deflated.

“Where is everyone?” she asked Mrs. Scanlon, who was in the midst of replacing the toast with fresh triangles.

The housekeeper turned with a small frown of confusion. “His Lordship and Lady Rebecca have gone to the Dower House for the day, My Lady. I was told you had been informed.”

“Oh, I see.” Amelia swallowed thickly. “Someone must have told me, and I must have forgotten. I am rather scatterbrained this morning.”

Mrs. Scanlon smiled. “I am not surprised; you did not retire to bed until rather late.”

“You saw me retire?” Amelia clung to the possibility.

The housekeeper nodded. “I was having some trouble sleeping, so I went to the kitchens for some warm milk. On the way back, I saw you and His Lordship.” She grinned, clasping a hand to her heart. “I know it is none of my business, My Lady, but I cannot tell you how joyful I was to see you both looking so… in love.”

What is she talking about?

Amelia hesitated, trying to decide how to frame her next question. “What did you see, exactly?”

“I know I should not have observed, so please do not be cross with me,” the housekeeper replied, that grin still fixed upon her face. “But I saw him carrying you upstairs. You looked so lovely, the pair of you. We have all been hoping to see you fall in love, just like the Lord and Lady before you. Truly, there is nothing more wonderful, and nothing that makes a household so happy.”

Amelia stared at the housekeeper, perplexed by the fact that she had no memory of what sounded like such a romantic, lovely gesture. If Lionel had carried her upstairs, had he also tucked her into bed? Had he said anything while she slumbered? Had he considered getting into bed beside her to keep her warm?

How could I have missed it? She cursed herself inwardly, but as she lamented that she had not been awake for such a romantic moment, a different, altogether more disheartening feeling began to creep in.

Lionel had not told her that he would be spending the day at the Dower House, and though she prayed she was mistaken, it rather felt like he was putting distance between them again. Perhaps, falling asleep with her had spooked him, or carrying her to her bedchamber had been too intimate for him.

But we were getting so much closer… He had confided in her last night, and she had thought that meant something. His embrace had almost confirmed it, but now, with the daylight, it seemed all of that had come undone again.

“Are you well, My Lady?” Mrs. Scanlon asked, a note of worry in her voice.

Amelia shook off her disappointment as best she could. “Quite well, thank you. As I said, I think I am rather scatterbrained this morning.” She hesitated, a notion coming to her. “Is there someone who might teach me to ride a horse once I am finished with breakfast?”

Mrs. Scanlon’s eyes widened a little. “Ride a horse, My Lady?”

“Yes.” Amelia cleared her throat. “I should like to learn. I have always thought it must be very liberating, and I have nothing better to do today.”

The housekeeper gave a resigned shrug, her expression no less bewildered. “I am certain that the stablemaster would be happy to teach you, if that is your will.”

“Thank you,” Amelia replied, taking her seat at the empty table.

If Lionel was going to keep avoiding her, confusing her as he blew hot and cold, drawing close then pulling away again, then she figured she ought to discover some new ways to distract herself and clear her mind. Her first experience of riding a horse had been rather terrifying, that was true, but she could think of no better time to overcome that fear. Moreover, it might give her another excuse to be close to her husband again.

I shall ask him to teach me more when he returns from the Dower House, she decided, reaching for a piece of toast.

If he thought he could kiss her and hold her in his arms and embrace her and carry her carefully to her chambers without waking her, and believe that she would simply give up on her feelings for him, then he was about to be sorely mistaken.