Page 18 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

Thornfield House, London

R ichard knew she was here. He’d watched Elodia arrive hours before from above stairs.

She’d smiled at Ada and Lady Starkley, that open bright smile that he remembered.

He hadn’t seen that smile in what felt like forever.

Not since that day in his office. She still smiled, of course, but it wasn’t the same.

Now he knew it was his presence in particular that was dimming her light.

So he elected to leave her to his sister and her guests rather than go down there and make her uncomfortable.

It was tea time. If he wanted to, he could ring for the servants to send him a separate tray.

His appetite had been shot for the last few days but tea was light enough for him to manage.

That dance at Lady Sterling’s ball had been torturously awkward but it had brought to bear one key point for Richard in a way he hadn’t anticipated before.

He absolutely hated the distance between him and Elodia.

Anger from her would have been better, anything but this submission, this meek acceptance of his judgement and what he had said.

The fact that she wouldn’t even consider the idea that he could be wrong was disturbing.

He was used to her needling and forcing her will; he was used to a fight.

He’d half expected her to glare at him from across the room, send him snide comments, try to stomp on his foot.

He wanted more. He wanted his Ellie back, the one with the sharp tongue and the sparkling eyes, the one who smiled widely and showed her feelings boldly.

And no , he didn’t want to dwell on the fact that he saw her in some way as ‘his’.

He knew it was selfish. He understood that technically, she was treating him no differently than Lady Starkley always had in theory.

Richard had never disliked Leo’s wife. In fact, he could safely say she was an admirable and impressive young woman.

But there was more to his relationship with Elodia.

They saw and understood each other in a unique way, and the camaraderie they shared had never been equaled with any other woman for him.

Now all that was gone. She was cordial and respectful as befitted their respective positions, so he had no cause for true complaint unless he wanted to be a hypocrite. But he couldn’t help but miss the warmth and familiarity she had taken back, a quality he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

There was a light in her eyes he missed and was desperate to see again.

A light she’d bestowed freely at one time but now she kept behind a cracked mask of politesse.

At first he’d thought she was offended by him, that perhaps she was insulted by his rejection.

It would have explained her silence, her refusal to engage with him outside of what would be polite in mixed company.

But during the dance, one thing was made achingly clear.

She believed that he was offended by her and the sentiments she’d communicated.

Everything he now missed had been an expression of her love for him and her reticence was now meant to honor his rejection.

Every smile, every teasing word, every private joke, every sidelong glance that made him feel less lonely was an expression of her devotion.

How on earth was he supposed to know something like that? Was he clairvoyant?

She wanted him to be more comfortable, and the only way she could think to make that happen was to pull back to a safer distance.

The logic was sound and, frankly, an even more potent sign of her affection and regard for him.

But how on earth was he meant to explain to her that he didn’t want their dynamic to change at all?

It would be hideously unfair. He felt more foolish than he could say.

How could he demand that she keep giving him what she’d given him before while pushing her away?

It would leave her in a liminal space that would drain her joy over time.

He couldn’t make her destroy herself for his own convenience.

Until he knew how he wanted them to be, he needed to stay away from her for both their sakes.

Which left him in the library. He’d taken a seat near the window with a copy of Candide, hoping the humorous satire would lift his spirits.

The door to the study opened abruptly and the object of his thoughts floated through in her morning gown of sheer silk gauze dyed a delicate sea foam green.

He watched as she closed the door behind her and let out a weary sigh, the corners of her full mouth curved downwards.

His fault. She couldn’t even enjoy the company of her friends because of his careless words.

She took a few quiet breaths, then opened her eyes and walked toward the bookshelf furthest away from him.

He didn’t even want to breathe lest she turn and see him.

He didn’t like how tired and sad she appeared, but he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing her so unguarded.

At least this was really her. From the moment she’d walked out the door after that horrible day, Elodia had only shown her public face to him.

The Viscount’s daughter, always charming and perfectly poised.

The moment she saw him, that mask would return.

Then again, it was bad form to allow an unmarried woman to be in the room with him, an equally unattached male.

It could ruin her if others found out. The last thing he ever wanted was to compound the harm he’d caused by taking advantage of her.

Bracing himself for the change in her expression, he cleared his throat softly.

Her head snapped in his direction and her eyes widened.

“Oh, R—” she pressed her lips together and swallowed back his name. He’d never wanted to hear it more. “Mr. Thornfield. I didn’t realize you were here. I thought you were out.”

“I was only reading,” he replied, proffering the volume in his hand. Her eyes fell to it and she blinked.

She took a step backward as if she was about to escape the room. “I… I was hoping for a moment of quiet.”

He nodded. “Understandable, carry on then, don’t mind me.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, giving him a lukewarm smile and returning her attention to the shelf.

A small victory. A few days ago, she would have left without another word, he was certain of it.

For now, he stayed in his window seat and watched her while pretending to read his book.

He’d never appreciated before how the sunlight seemed to enhance the color of her skin.

As if it absorbed the light, as if she was herself made of it.

What the hell was he even thinking?

“Looking for anything in particular?” he asked, wondering how long he could tempt her into another dialogue.

She paused and glanced over at him, her full lips parted in surprise. “No. Do you have any recommendations?”

“Not exactly, but I’m familiar with the sections. If there was a subject you were interested in, I would have you directed there.”

“Oh, thank you.” She continued to search the shelves but said nothing further.

Damn. He looked down at his hands, disappointment swirling with embarrassment. Why was he so desperate to speak to her? Did it really matter? Didn’t he have more important things to do?

Then she glanced over at him tentatively, her lips parted, ready to speak. “H… how are you enjoying your niece and nephew?”

The sound of her voice sent his heart racing. Lord, it was pathetic and he couldn’t even care. It was a weak attempt at conversation, but he would take it. “They are delightful. I won’t deny my niece is my favorite. I’ve never seen a sweeter looking child.”

She nodded, selected a book and turned to face him, clutching it to her chest like armor.

“I… did you,” she pressed her lips together again, before looking down at her shoes. “Are you in here because of me?” she finally asked.

“No.” The lie slipped out alarmingly easily.

She glanced up at him, her mouth pursed. She didn’t believe him. “You were missed. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because of me. I can stay away if it would make you more comfortable.”

“It wouldn’t,” he said, but she continued heedlessly.

“Ada and Regina can come to me more often, or we can go to Regina’s home.”

“I don’t want you to avoid being here at all,” he restated, adding more force to his voice.

She paused, staring at him with wide eyes, her grip on the volume in her hands tightening. “Then you must not hide away either. We cannot avoid each other, Mr. Thornfield.”

He nodded. It was an improvement, but he was still Mr. Thornfield to her and probably would be the rest of his life.

“That is true enough.” Did he have the right to ask for anything else?

“I was worried for you, in all honesty. You were very upset. I never wanted to hurt you, Miss Hawthorne, no matter what.”

She shook her head and smiled weakly. “I was upset. I’d wasted nearly ten years of my life on an arrogant assumption.”

“You weren’t arrogant.”

“Wasn’t I?” She gave him a sardonic glance.

He shook his head. “I didn’t express myself properly that day. You are more to me than an acquaintance, you are a… friend.” It still felt wrong to say but he couldn’t allow her to believe the lie any longer.

“A friend,” she repeated.

“Yes. I know it is not what you would wish.”

“I don’t see how that negates my statement.”

“You are beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and capable, to say nothing of your wealth and status.”

Her eyebrows shot up and the corners of her mouth twitched. “A paragon.”

“I meant what I said that night. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“Yes.” She smiled softly, but it was still sad. “When you said that, I thought you included yourself in that group.”

He shut the book in his hands. “I do include myself there. The truth is, you are entirely outside of my league.”

“But you are simply uninterested.”

“Mmmm.” He couldn’t agree or disagree. The noise could be taken whichever way she chose.