Page 51 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Dorian exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as though she’s given him a headache. “No.”
She tilts her head, considering him. “Then what is it?”
His hesitation is almost imperceptible, but she catches it. Just for a second, his gaze flickers—too quick to pin down, but something lingers in it. Something unreadable.
He shakes his head. “It’s late. You should rest.”
He turns away, but Selene isn’t done with him yet. “Dorian.”
He stops.
“Next time, you should at least bring a blanket,” she murmurs.
Dorian huffs a quiet laugh, already moving towards the door. “Noted.”
She watches him go, listening as the door to his room clicks shut behind him. Then, settling back against her pillows, she closes her eyes.
She doesn’t think about how much she likes the thought of waking up to find him still there.
She doesn’t think about it at all.
Selene is no stranger to men finding her attractive. Dorian had already told her that he fancied her in school, but his use of the past tense hadn’t escaped her. Did he not think she was beautiful any more? He was surely aware of it, but perhaps it was in a way that she longer had much effect on him—like how she’d lose her preference for a gown over time?
But if hedidstill find her attractive, if he wasn’timmune to her charms,then why keep his distance? Why not push for more between them?
Did she want him to? Didshewant more between them—or was she merely desperate to be likedby someone kind for a change?
In her first marriage, love had become a word as flimsy as paper, and just as easily cast aside. She and the Duke used it in company, getting it out like a piece of fine silverware. It was rehearsed, polished, flat, decorative. The word had lost all meaning. It was a dead, withered thing. Selene finds herself surprised to discover there’s wick beneath the weed, that it can be resurrected still. It is not dead. It may yet blossom. But she’s scared of trying to coax it back to life, of investing too much in something just to watch it die.
Perhaps that’s what Dorian’s wary of, that if they started something, it might end badly. Perhaps he’s aware that she might be fickle, and he could be hurt. Perhaps he knows how desperate she is for companionship, approval.
She hopes not. She’s been naked in the presence of a man before, but not like that. She doesn’t want him to know that about her.
Of course, she may just be completely misreading the situation. He seemed annoyed when she took his glasses.
She prays to Aurelis for guidance, not expecting it to come. She has fallen through time, and yet understanding herself seems as unlikely as ever. Perhaps she should pray for bravery instead. At least then, she wouldn’t be so afraid to ask him to be straight with her. But she’s conscious of offending him, of how much he’s done already. She doesn’t want to make him angry, or make things awkward.
Dorian does not come back to her room. Marta and Ariella keep her company instead, and within a couple of days her ankle is healed well enough for her to get around by herself.
Despite Dorian’s insistence that she help herself to redecoration, Selene is reluctant to begin anything too drastic until her investment has paid off. She knows it will look suspicious if she doesn’t start something, however, so she speaks to Jon about beginning a ratherdramatic new bed frame. It’s a delicate undertaking, but the young man seems excited by the prospect.
Finally, one morning while having a rare late breakfast with Dorian, the letter arrives that she’s been waiting for.
“Oh my!” she says, clapping her hand to her mouth.
Dorian looks up from the newspaper. “What? What is it?”
“My investment has paid off!”
She hands him the letter from the solicitor. Dorian reads it lightning-fast. “You made an investment?” he asks.
She nods her head. “Yes, the other week, while you were away. I’ve made an excellent return.”
Dorian reads the letter again. “Itisan excellent return,” he agrees. “How did you pay for it?”
Selene wonders if she’s in trouble. The Duke would never have allowed this, but it was her money, and in any case, they aren’t truly married. Surely she can do what she likes with her money? “I sold a piece of jewellery,” she admits.
Dorian places his hand to his mouth. “I forgot to give you an allowance.”
