heartfelt and congratulatory. Lily positively glowed as she beamed at her intended, and Elise squelched her selfish disappointment at Lily’s decision to remarry.
As dinner ended, the hostess stood and nodded to the men. “Gentlemen. You are most welcome to join us in the drawing room when you are so inclined.” She gave an affectionate smile to Mr. Harrison, who visibly softened when their eyes met.
The ladies rose and followed her out, leaving the gentlemen to their own discussion. Grateful for the separation from the man whose very presence threatened her safe existence, Elise went with the ladies.
As conversation buzzed around her, her thoughts returned to Jared Amesbury. She puzzled over his moments of vulnerability in the garden, and over her desire to soothe him. He’d needed her aid in the woods. How long since she’d had any desire to offer comfort to a man? How long since one had needed her?
A startling clarity pierced her thoughts; she desperately missed being needed. Colin needed her, of course, and her servants and tenants depended upon her, but that was different. None of them needed her as a woman.
Then again, as much as she’d loved Edward and enjoyed their comfortable companionship, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever actually needed her, either.
She sat stunned by the revelation of her own loneliness.
The shields, built up by years of fooling herself, fell away, revealing the chasm in her life. The chasm in her purpose. The chasm in her heart. Her hands shook, and she stared unseeing at the wall behind Lily’s head. Then she gave herself a scolding for sinking into self pity and reminded herself that widowhood was wonderful.
At the moment, she had trouble listing any reasons why.
The gentlemen joined them, and she sensed Mr. Amesbury the moment he entered the room. Like a great, hungry panther, he prowled closer. The image shattered when he halted, offered a polite bow, and indicated an empty place next to her on the settee.
“May I?”
She thought she heard a sound of annoyance from Lord Druesdale who had reached her at almost the same instant, but forgot the lord the moment she looked up into Mr. Amesbury’s face. The intensity in his eyes drove away her powers of speech. She swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.
Though increasingly desperate to escape his unnerving presence and regain her self-control, Elise pulled her gaze away from his and nodded toward the empty seat. “Please.”
The seat sank under his weight. His clean, masculine scent called out to her. Acutely aware of him, and disturbed by her reaction, she adjusted her skirts, flicked off an imaginary speck, and looked for something else to do to keep her eyes off him. Her earlier compassion for him vanished, leaving her only with the desire to escape his disturbing nearness.
“Lady Standwich seems delighted at the prospect of her upcoming nuptials,” Mr. Amesbury commented benignly.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said before she realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud.
“You don’t approve of the match?”
Ashamed, she hastily added, “It isn’t that. He’s a fine man. It’s merely that I’m surprised she’s decided to remarry.”
“Are you? Why is that?”
She paused, unwilling to reveal too much. “We spent much time discussing how well we’ve adapted to widowhood and how we never planned to wed again and give up our independence. Her change of heart seemed sudden.”
“Widowed?” His mouth curved up a rather satisfied gleam entered his eyes. He shifted, bringing his leg near enough that his warmth seeped into her thigh.
A stirring arose deep inside, so basic, so elemental in its origin that it seemed at once familiar and foreign. Lowering her gaze, she inched away.
“Have I done something to offend you, Mrs. Berkley?”
Keeping her eyes averted, she shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“Why do you look distressed?” he persisted.
“You are far too attentive.”
H e
As dinner ended, the hostess stood and nodded to the men. “Gentlemen. You are most welcome to join us in the drawing room when you are so inclined.” She gave an affectionate smile to Mr. Harrison, who visibly softened when their eyes met.
The ladies rose and followed her out, leaving the gentlemen to their own discussion. Grateful for the separation from the man whose very presence threatened her safe existence, Elise went with the ladies.
As conversation buzzed around her, her thoughts returned to Jared Amesbury. She puzzled over his moments of vulnerability in the garden, and over her desire to soothe him. He’d needed her aid in the woods. How long since she’d had any desire to offer comfort to a man? How long since one had needed her?
A startling clarity pierced her thoughts; she desperately missed being needed. Colin needed her, of course, and her servants and tenants depended upon her, but that was different. None of them needed her as a woman.
Then again, as much as she’d loved Edward and enjoyed their comfortable companionship, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever actually needed her, either.
She sat stunned by the revelation of her own loneliness.
The shields, built up by years of fooling herself, fell away, revealing the chasm in her life. The chasm in her purpose. The chasm in her heart. Her hands shook, and she stared unseeing at the wall behind Lily’s head. Then she gave herself a scolding for sinking into self pity and reminded herself that widowhood was wonderful.
At the moment, she had trouble listing any reasons why.
The gentlemen joined them, and she sensed Mr. Amesbury the moment he entered the room. Like a great, hungry panther, he prowled closer. The image shattered when he halted, offered a polite bow, and indicated an empty place next to her on the settee.
“May I?”
She thought she heard a sound of annoyance from Lord Druesdale who had reached her at almost the same instant, but forgot the lord the moment she looked up into Mr. Amesbury’s face. The intensity in his eyes drove away her powers of speech. She swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.
Though increasingly desperate to escape his unnerving presence and regain her self-control, Elise pulled her gaze away from his and nodded toward the empty seat. “Please.”
The seat sank under his weight. His clean, masculine scent called out to her. Acutely aware of him, and disturbed by her reaction, she adjusted her skirts, flicked off an imaginary speck, and looked for something else to do to keep her eyes off him. Her earlier compassion for him vanished, leaving her only with the desire to escape his disturbing nearness.
“Lady Standwich seems delighted at the prospect of her upcoming nuptials,” Mr. Amesbury commented benignly.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said before she realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud.
“You don’t approve of the match?”
Ashamed, she hastily added, “It isn’t that. He’s a fine man. It’s merely that I’m surprised she’s decided to remarry.”
“Are you? Why is that?”
She paused, unwilling to reveal too much. “We spent much time discussing how well we’ve adapted to widowhood and how we never planned to wed again and give up our independence. Her change of heart seemed sudden.”
“Widowed?” His mouth curved up a rather satisfied gleam entered his eyes. He shifted, bringing his leg near enough that his warmth seeped into her thigh.
A stirring arose deep inside, so basic, so elemental in its origin that it seemed at once familiar and foreign. Lowering her gaze, she inched away.
“Have I done something to offend you, Mrs. Berkley?”
Keeping her eyes averted, she shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“Why do you look distressed?” he persisted.
“You are far too attentive.”
H e
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