Page 51 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 18
“Now, Grandson, you need to listen to me, just occasionally,” Grandma said, teasing but insistent. Andrew, sitting at her bedside, could not stop smiling.
“Yes, Grandma,” he agreed at once. He would have agreed to anything she suggested—she had woken during his morning visit, and she was not only awake, but lively and more lucid than he had seen her since she hurt herself.
“You must tell her, Andrew. It’s no good only telling me, you know.” Grandma grinned at him. Andrew’s heart filled with love as he stared at that beloved face. Her skin was soft, touched by the morning sunshine and her eyes were bright.
“I know,” he said with a small smile. “But it is not easy, Grandma.”
“Emmeline is a dear girl,” Grandma said firmly. “I see no reason why you should not tell her precisely how you feel.”
Andrew sighed. It was not that he did not trust Emmeline. He wished he could explain to Grandma how frightened he was that he would cause something bad to happen to Emmeline by getting close to her. The more he came to love her—and he could not deny it to himself anymore; love was what he had experienced in the past—the more he feared that.
“It is not as simple as that, Grandma,” was all he managed to say.
“I see no reason why not,” she said, her face set in that prim expression she sometimes wore when she argued with him, and he was being obtuse.
Andrew just smiled. He was so happy to see his grandmother awake and full of life.
“You’re probably right, Grandma,” he admitted gently.
“Well, there you are!” Grandma held his gaze, her lips lifting teasingly. “Do you see? You already agree.”
Andrew laughed. “I do. Are you sure I cannot fetch you some tea?” he asked her. Her maid, Philipa, had told him Grandma had not eaten much that morning.
She shook her head. “I’ll take tea later, dear,” she assured him. “Right now, I want to read my book. Might you pass it to me on your way out?”
“Of course,” Andrew agreed, glancing at the low table by the door. It was so wonderful to see her doing such characteristic things like readingagain. She had always been an avid reader, though she preferred novels or essays to poems. The poetry collection was entirely his mother’s.
Emmeline’s face when he had given her the poetry book was something he would never forget. Like the feeling of her satin-soft skin against his lips when he kissed her hand.
“It’s Tuesday, yes?” she asked.
“Um, yes,” Andrew replied, surprised. “Indeed. Why?”
“Because the gardeners are to tend to the flowerbeds today. You mentioned it a week ago. Do you not recall?”
“Yes!” Andrew beamed, delighted. “You remembered long before I did.”
“Well, it is fortunate I reminded you,” she said primly.
Andrew laughed. “Quite so. I ought to speak with the butler about it,” he said with a grin. “I’ll fetch you your book on the way out.”
“Please do, Andrew,” Grandma replied. She shifted on the pillows and Andrew went to the door, fetched the book and passed it to her. It was a collection of selected philosophical essays.
“Thank you, Grandson,” Grandma said appreciatively.
“Of course. Take care,” Andrew answered and took her hand in his, clasping it briefly. Her skin was warm but not hot and he was sure that was a good sign.
He went out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
“Cousin!” Ambrose greeted him as he walked to the drawing room. Andrew tensed.
“Good morning, cousin,” Andrew greeted him lightly. The truth was, he found himself increasingly frustrated by the cousins’ extended visit. While he didn’t encounter them often throughout the day, they were always present at mealtimes and tea. He couldn’t help but imagine how grand it would be to have the house to himself and Emmeline, enjoying a quiet tea time with just the two of them. Instead, the cousins had lingered for over a week, and their presence had begun to weigh on him.
“How is Grandma faring today?” Ambrose asked, his brows lowering in a frown.
“She’s much improved,” Andrew said slowly.
