Page 51 of Indecently Employed
Miss Abbotts gave a little laugh, and for a terrifying moment his heart sank. But then she spoke. “I did, and I adored every page of it. They were all thrilling imaginings, and I confess I nearly lost my heart to the smuggler captain inCorsairs of the Channel.” She grinned; it was not an overtly seductive gesture, but one that drove him mad all the same. She had been alluring before, but now? Now she looked at him with something new, a confidence and ease that made him wonder if he’d lost his heart as well as his mind.
He wanted to scoop her up and kiss her all over. He wanted so much more than to maintain this respectable distance between them.
Unable to act upon his wishes with sand-skirted Charlotte tromping about and with Theo staring at the horizon from further off the beach, he instead confessed the current state of his writing. “I have nothing but a title for my next outing.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and I need to throw together some slapdash bit of pap before the editor has my head.” He sighed. “He can be quite cutthroat for a man with such a jolly appearance. I suppose that’s business for you,” he mused.
“What is the title?”
He hesitated before answering. “The Ghost’s Forlorn Embrace.”
“Hmm,” she said, making that governess face he recognized as one she would make in response to some of Charlotte’s more outlandish insights. It gutted him.
“I do think,” she added, her mind still working, “there is quite a lot you could do with that.”
“Oh?” Feeling a bit low now, he wondered at it.
“Why, you could use Cleton as a setting, with a title like that.” She tilted her head and smiled warmly at him.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, “for there are enough ghosts here to satisfy even Charlotte.” He’d initially dismissed the idea when he’d first had it, but something sparked in the corners of his mind. Perhaps there was something to it, after all? A drowned village, a lost love?
A lost love.
As quickly as it had come, the idea slipped away, and he was left with an overpowering sense of dread, knowing that Miss Abbotts would one day leave him as well.
He ran a hand through his hair; it felt rough and salty. Placing his hat back on his head, he considered how poorly he felt about everything now, when only two nights prior he’d felt something new building: a new kind of peace, an end to the restless slog that had been all he’d ever known.
It had been an illusion. For nothing would ever truly change. He would always be the late-born black sheep of a flashy trade family. And if they hadn’t ever wanted him, who would?
It was best to not want things he couldn’t have. He’d always managed to get by on his own, and he could continue to do so, for better or worse.
As if to emphasize the point, the scene before him—Charlotte throwing rocks or shells or what have you into the ocean as the late afternoon light sparkled on the water—looked positively ethereal, and Ajax reflected morosely on the transience of life. Everything, and everyone, would pass into history in due course. He knew he should enjoy what he had while he had it, however briefly; after all, that had essentially been his guiding principle for nearly his entire adult life. But while he had previously usedthe idea to justify his myriad escapades, all he found in it now was a bleak melancholy.
The ride home passed in relative silence, all of them exhausted even after devouring the two hampers of food Mrs. Nathan had packed for them.
They arrived back at the castle and the comforts it provided, but Ajax’s ambivalence remained. He skipped the evening meal, instead spending the time in a bath so scorching hot it turned his skin an almost unnatural shade of red. Afterward he moped about his solar, a blank sheet of paper tormenting him almost as much as the thoughts of his own inevitable loneliness. Eventually he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he decided to head down to the library on the chance he might find her there. For he desperately needed her comfort, to be in her presence.
The hour was late enough that most of the house was abed, but not so late that it would be foolish to hope. For he knew she yearned for his touch too, if the glances she had shot him throughout the day were any indication.
He stepped into the library and immediately made for the cellarette, but the silver tray sitting in the middle of the table caught his eye. It held a letter directed to him, and a note from Gideon:
Worked out the post issue. – Faine
He didn’t want to think about his last conversation with Gideon, and all the doubt and sadness it had churned up, but he did recall him mentioning that they hadn’t received any letters over the past several days.
He picked up the letter on the tray, instantly recognizing his cousin Bess’s loose, loopy writing.
Curious, he grabbed a letter opener and undid the seal.
Chapter Eighteen
Susanna felt so alive,so hopeful, as she padded through the dim hallways toward the thin sliver of light coming from underneath the door to the library. She had left her hair loose about her shoulders in a way that felt impossibly brazen, but she didn’t care. She’d taken charge of her own happiness, and everything felt better for it.
Her body warmed at the thought of his smile. She opened the door slowly, heart pounding. She knew it would have been too soon for him to procure any sort of preventative measures, but she couldn’t help but hope for something more that evening. Something she’d never known and was desperate to feel. Counting out the days since her last courses once more, she felt certain of being safe, were they to… join together. Her cheeks heated.
There he sat, staring into the fire, his back to her. He made no move, said no word as she closed the door softly behind her.
