Page 48 of A Delicate Deception
“What?” He sounded gratifyingly dazed.
“Did this qualify?”
He gave a helpless little laugh into her throat. “You’re mad and I adore you.”
She thought her heart might burst from happiness. Maybe she was mad, maybe he did adore her, maybe those facts weren’t connected by adespiteor aneven thoughbut a simpleand.
“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to dedicate ourselves to doing it right next time,” she said. His cheek was scratchy against her own and she wanted to nuzzle into it like a cat. “We could even do it in a bed. I hear that’s considered de rigeur in some circles.”
He laughed, a rumble she felt against her back, but then went still. “Look, I’m about to make history’s worst marriage proposal, so I apologize in advance.”
“I’ll try to withhold judgment,” she said, her mouth dry.
“I work fourteen-hour days for weeks on end and then sit idle for a month or longer. When the railway is completed, I’ll likely go to an entirely different part of the country and repeat the process. I can’t imagine that this life would appeal to anyone, and I’m mortified that I’m asking you to share it. I’ve already canceled my lease.”
“You did?”
“I told you, it was unlivable. But what if we took a house in the country outside Manchester proper. I’d take the knockers off the door and, I don’t know, put up quarantine signs or surround the house with skulls on pikes or do whatever it took to keep people away.” He made a frustrated sound into her hair. “I told you this would be a bad proposal but I didn’t really foresee decapitated heads coming into it.”
“That was a nice touch,” she said. “But here’s the problem.” She had been thinking about this in the days since she had received his last two letters. “I don’t think I can move to a town, or even reasonably near a town. I would effectively be trapped inside the house.”
“We could live even further afield,” he said promptly.
God, he was trying, and somehow that made it all worse. “So, after I learned that a duke was moving into Pelham Hall—weeks before that debacle the first time I visited—I began to suspect that Crossbrook Cottage might not be isolated enough. Even the prospect of meeting with people who belong to that world is enough to make me want to bar the doors and draw the curtains. I have a nice collection of advertisements for houses to let in places like the Hebrides. I haven’t entirely ruled that out, but for now Crossbrook Cottage feels safe again. Pelham Hall even feels safe. And I think that given time I might be able to expand that circle a little bit, but not so far as Manchester.”
“I see,” he said.
Without turning around, she knew his eyebrows were in a deplorable state. She stroked his arm. “This is my home, Sydney. I’ve worked hard to get to the point where every day isn’t a disaster, where I’m glad to know that there will be a tomorrow. And while I’d like my tomorrows to include you, they won’t be in Manchester, or Liverpool, or Edinburgh, or any city at all. There are days when I feel like I can barely even manage this much.” She shifted so she was facing him, then cupped his cheek in her hand. “I don’t expect you to understand, just to believe me when I say that I know my limits. I’m done thinking it’s my fault, or that I can make it go away by ignoring it. You’ve helped with that.”
“I have?” He looked up, startled.
“You always accept my boundaries and treat them as normal. It’s gotten me in the habit of paying myself the same courtesy.”
“I was under the impression that Georgiana didn’t push you to go beyond your capacity,” he said carefully.
“She doesn’t! But she’d do anything for me because that’s her nature, whereas you—” She broke off, realizing she had no graceful way to end that sentiment.
“Whereas I’m churlish and intolerant?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Not exactly,” she said. To her amazement, her cheeks were hot. She was comfortable enough with this man to stop checking her body’s every reaction. “You’re so matter-of-fact about it. It makes me feel that I’m doing fine.”
He pulled her close for a kiss and she let herself go to him. “You are,” he whispered into her hair.
“I know that this would all be easier if I didn’t have my—predicament, if I could pack my bags and go with you. I know this is burdensome.”
He held her chin steady and looked at her hard. “Nothing about you is burdensome,” he said, his voice rough. “Do you hear me? You are clever and kind and”—he broke off to kiss her, clumsy and fierce—“you’re sunshine. Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to me, and every time I see you I love you more. I’m going to take you on whatever terms I can get you. Separate houses, separate towns, marriage, no marriage.” His arm tightened around her. “Just so you know.”
She let herself imagine that he was right, and that what they had together—this honesty, this closeness—was strong enough to matter.
Chapter Twenty
Once Sydney discovered a problem, he had never been able to refrain from trying to solve it. This was why he did what he did—he found ways to build things that needed to be created, found ways to work around obstacles that couldn’t be moved.
At the same time, when there was a rule, it was usually there for a reason. Don’t build on quicksand. Don’t store gunpowder in a hayloft. Don’t attempt a lasting relationship with someone who lives fifty miles away. Don’t leave children to be raised by eccentric aristocrats. But sometimes rules, however comforting and secure, stood in the way of something greater. So he refused to believe that there wasn’t a way forward with Amelia. So what if they couldn’t find their way towards anything as conventional as setting up house together, a tidy and easily understood coupling of one man and one woman under one roof. He had never had his heart set on any of that in the first place. Maybe there was some other way, something bigger and broader and messier. He spent his days building things a previous generation hadn’t dared, traversing impassible gorges and working impossible bridges. He could figure out a way to span the distance between him and Amelia, between Crossbrook Cottage and Manchester. He could do that, and he would.
He returned to Pelham Hall in a state of determination. He needed to sit down with Lex and figure out how he and Leontine played into whatever plans Sydney was making. They needed to have this out, once and for all.
But when he walked through the front door he found the house deserted.
