“Aurelia,” her friend spoke again, softly, carefully. “You sound… certain. You speak like a woman in love.” Her lips quirked into a small smile despite the seriousness of her tone.
Aurelia hid her face briefly behind her teacup, sipping to mask her breathlessness. The liquid did nothing to soothe the ache inside her.
Hyacinth tilted her head, her curiosity plain. “Then why are there shadows in your eyes? If you want him, if you love him, why don’t you tell him? Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”
“He knows I desire him but….” Aurelia’s throat tightened. “He still doesn’t touch me. Not truly. It’s been months now. He stops himself, as though he fears something. As though wanting me is wrong.”
Understanding dawned in her friend’s gaze. Her lips parted, but she said nothing, waiting.
In a much softer voice, Aurelia spoke again. “And yet I do not care if it is wrong. I want him. I want it, too. Not because it is expected of me, but because my body craves it.” She looked up, her brown eyes meeting her friend’s green ones. “Because I crave him.”
Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths, and in her eyes, there was a glint beneath the longing.
Across from her, Hyacinth sat back, stunned into silence. Her smile, tender and knowing, spread slowly like honey.
CHAPTER 26
The late afternoon light bathed the stone walls in honeyed gold.
It seemed as if the manor had prepared itself, waiting for its masters to return.
Aurelia leaned forward, her gloved hands gripping the edge of the window. Her chest tightened, her breathing quickening with anticipation.
Home, at last.
But she was more excited about reuniting with Lottie.
Three days away from the little girl felt like an eternity. Her heart beat quicker at the thought of those small arms wrapping around her, of that sweet, eager voice greeting her.
Before the footman could even open the carriage door, a joyful squeal pierced the air. “Mother!”
Aurelia froze, her throat closing with sudden emotion. That voice… that word. It tore through every defense she had built around herself.
She turned toward the window, trembling.
Across the lawn, Lottie was running, her skirts flying and hair tumbling from its neat ribbons. Pure joy radiated from her, fierce as a storm.
“Mother!” Her voice rang out again, brighter.
Besides Aurelia, Percival was astonished by the confidence with which the girl spoke the word. It cut through him with devastating sweetness.
Mother.
Lottie had said it without hesitation, without thought, like it had always belonged to Aurelia. And God help him, that truth cut him open.
He had never expected he would witness such a moment. Had never dared to hope. And now, it was here, undeniable, devastating in its beauty.
It made his chest ache.
Although he did not smile, his eyes softened imperceptibly. He had not thought himself capable of such joy.
The carriage door swung open. Percival stepped down first, the image of discipline, with his shoulders squared and his jaw hard. The embodiment of restraint.
Then, he turned and offered his hand without hesitation. She took it.
Aurelia’s fingers slid into his, warm through the thin leather of her glove. Instantly, something arced between them—a low, prickly heat.
She didn’t notice the way his touch tightened though, of the way his thumb brushed along the inside of her wrist just before she stepped out. She didn’t see the flash in his eyes or hear his quiet inhale.