Page 47 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“Do you have any poetry?” she asked.
He nodded. “My mother...” he faltered; his throat suddenly stiff with feeling. “She was very fond of poetry,” he managed to say, avoiding a dangerous wobble to his voice.
“I would not wish to borrow one if it is very dear to you...” Emmeline began.
He shook his head. “Please, read them. No one else does.” He forced his tone to be light, but in truth, it was the first time he had considered anyone touching the possessions his mother had left behind. Whole cupboards of her things stood locked up because he could not bear to get rid of them and he could not bear to let anyone else do it either.
“Thank you,” Emmeline answered.
He watched her go to the shelf he had indicated, taking one of the candles off the table so she could use it to see. She held it high, shining a light on the rows of books that had been his mother’s private collection. He watched her slender hand reach up to the brown leather-bound poetry volumes and take one down.
“Milton. I know some find him overly solemn, but I enjoy his sonnets.”
“They are indeed thought-provoking,” he said with a faint smile.
“They are,” she agreed.
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and searching, and he held his breath. She stood just two paces away, close enough for him to catch thefaint, floral scent of her hair. His chest ached with the weight of emotions he dared not express, his hands curling slightly as though they might reach for her of their own accord.
Her gaze lingered for a moment longer, a quiet intensity passing between them before she turned and stepped softly through the doorway.
“Goodnight, Andrew.” Her tone was a soft whisper like the rustle of silk on silk.
Then she turned in the doorway and walked into the darkened hall.
He stood where he was, speechless, for a moment or two. Then he went to the mantel and put out the lamps. He stood a moment in the darkness, lost in the bliss and confusion of all that had happened.
Then he turned and went up to his bedroom, thinking that he would not possibly manage to sleep.
