Again, he stayed serious. “Until the end of time. Or until I can keep you instead.”
Something twisted inside me then, something sharp, and I couldn’t bring myself to examine it head on. I didn’t need to. I already knew what it was. It was love and it was pain and it was the realization that I wanted nothing more than to be with Mr. Markham and he wanted nothing more than to be with me and that it was only my fear keeping us apart.
But I couldn’t just abandon my wariness, my urge to bolt and run at the sign of slightest trouble. I’d grown up with that wariness and it was more than second nature. It was my first nature.
I turned back toward the house without saying anything, keeping my eyes studiously on the ground. Why did he have to be so tender? Why did he have to be so perfectly him? It made this so much harder.
When we got to the front door, I turned back to him. Standing on the steps as I was, I had the rare opportunity of being taller than Mr. Markham. From here, I could see the rare strand of silver mixed in with his dark hair, and I could see how the sunlight caught on his long eyelashes when he looked up at me.
I wanted to say I love you, come inside the house. I wanted to say I need you, I want to marry you. But I couldn’t without betraying the hours of anguished thought I’d given this very matter. What did it matter if I loved him, if the Ivy Leavold that loved him was just as toxic and damaged as he was?
“I’m tired,” I said instead. It wasn’t a lie. I was suddenly exhausted, and sleep was the only thing that sounded good. “I need to lie down. But thank you for your visit, Mr. Markham.”
He didn’t frown. He didn’t scowl or protest. Instead, he merely kissed my hand once more. “I hope you get the rest you need,” he said, peering up at me from under his eyelashes. “And may I call on you tomorrow?”
I hesitated. I should say no, I should, I should, I should…
“It would make me very happy if you did.”
“Where’s your valet?”
I was knotting my own tie in the mirror, taking care to make sure the silk lay perfectly flat against the high starched collar of my shirt. “I sent him out for more bluebells,” I said, stepping back to double-check my handiwork. “And I’m quite capable of dressing myself. I hardly used him at home anyway.”
“Yes, but you looked like Robinson Crusoe at your home, Jules. Don’t deny it.”
I shrugged. What reason did I have for dressing up at Markham Hall? It was usually only me, and even after Ivy arrived, I was too preoccupied with her to make sure that my cravats were perfectly tied or my face closely shaven.
“Maybe if you didn’t have such a taciturn valet, you’d use him more.”
“Gareth’s not that taciturn,” I said, fastening my pocket watch to my vest. “He can be very cheerful.” Although if I admitted it, he’d been anything but since we’d come to London. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that he’d been moody—for him—going many hours without speaking and disappearing at random intervals throughout the day.
But we had a slightly more complicated master-servant relationship than most, thanks to Violet, and so I didn’t feel the need to castigate him about his attitude. And what did it matter anyway? Mrs. Brightmore and my cook, Wispel, had frankly deplorable demeanors but were competent and dependable. That’s all I truly required.
“Are you ready?” Silas asked. “Any longer and I’m going to die of old age.”
“Shut up,” I said kindly.
I had decided to bring Silas along because I thought it might allay that fear that I saw sparking in Ivy’s eyes yesterday. Things had been too intimate between us, even without sex, and I could see the moment it spooked her. Silas had a way of easing people, of making any visit friendly and light, and besides, I wanted someone to distract Esther if I needed a moment of private conversation.
There was a rap on the door and Gareth arrived with my bluebells.
“Hello, sir,” he said quietly. And to Silas: “Sir.”
Gareth didn’t smile or make small talk as he helped me pin the flowers to my lapel. I studied his face discreetly, wondering if he was so quiet because we were once again in London, where we’d both met Violet for the first time.
That must be it. And of course, he wouldn’t feel right talking about it.
“Take the afternoon and evening off,” I said impulsively, reaching for my wallet. I gave him a few pounds. “I’ll be occupied all evening anyway, no sense in you waiting around.”
“Thank you, sir,” he mumbled. And with a shallow bow, he left the room.
Silas gave me a dramatic eye roll, and we made for the door, where there was a second knock.
“We’re never leaving this room, are we?” Silas muttered, turning away. I opened to the door to a hotel employee. “Yes?”
He handed me a note. “A woman asked that this be delivered to you, sir.”
I took it, excitement surging in my chest. Had Ivy come? Perhaps she couldn’t wait for my visit this afternoon and took it upon herself to come to me…
