Page 102 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
So she forces a small, wry smile. “I was wondering if you’d ever let me drive the carriage.”
It’s a poor attempt at humour, but Dorian huffs a quiet laugh, and something in his posture softens. “No.”
Selene tilts her head, affecting an air of mock offence. “Not even once?”
“Not if you value your life.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “I could be an excellent driver, you know. Perhaps even better than Fred.”
His lips quirk, but there’s still something distant in his eyes. Something guarded. Selene realises that the distance between them isn’t something she can bridge in a single night.
This will take time.
But for now, she lets the moment pass. She watches him as he watches the road, and she wonders—if she reaches for his hand, would he let her hold it?
Or would he let her go?
The carriage rolls to a stop in front of Ebonrose Hall, the late afternoon sun casting long golden rays across the gravel path. The air is crisp, carrying the familiar scent of the gardens, and for a brief moment, Selene lets herself breathe it in.
It is good to be home.
The grand doors open before they’ve even stepped down, and Ariella strides out onto the drive to embrace them.
“How’s Soren?” Dorian asks as soon as she releases them.
“On the mend and deeply embarrassed.”
“Is he awake?”
“Barely. You can see him in the morning, unless you want to listen to him groan.”
Dorian exhales, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He looks like he wants to go anyway, but after a moment, he relents.
“Tomorrow, then.”
Ariella smirks. “Good. Let’s get you both inside. Fred and I can handle the trunks. Rookwood has food waiting for you.”
They head downstairs to the kitchen. Rookwood is busy laying out a hearty spread. “You took longer than expected,” he says, setting down a steaming platter. “Trouble?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Dorian replies, pulling out a chair for Selene before taking his own seat.
Selene forces a small smile. “It’s good to be home.”
Rookwood eyes them both but says nothing, only nodding as he finishes arranging the dishes. “Eat while it’s hot.”
Ariella joins them after a short while, and the conversation drifts to lighter topics—the state of the estate, a ridiculous argument Fred had with one of the stablehands, the latest gossip from the village. Selene listens, letting their voices wash over her.
But even as the warmth of the meal settles in her stomach, she can’t shake the weight pressing at the back of her mind.
She knows Dorian can’t, either.
“I think I’ll take a turn about the gardens before it gets too dark,” she tells them.
“Do you want company—” starts Dorian.
“No,” says Selene, a little more sharply than she meant to.
Dorian settles back down.
