Page 13 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
He took refuge in the sudden realization that Ella felt this way, as well.
“Ella,” Peter tried, feeling at the edge of a precipice. “I suppose I should tell you, then… I thought the very same as you.”
Ella tilted her head. She blinked several times, her lips shining. “You thought that Frederick …that Frederick loved me?”
“No, Ella,” Peter sighed. “I dare say I haven’t paid much attention to Frederick and your relationship. Although admittedly, the pair of you did spend a great deal of time in the library together. I’m not sure what he thought regarding your relationship, but it did very much seem that the two of you could have been bored together into infinity.”
“Thank you,” Ella said, her voice low.
“Regardless, no. For the truth of the matter is, I’ve loved Tatiana for as long as I can remember. I’ve upheld her as the sort of woman I’ve wanted to marry. I expected to return from my own trip to find her, to ask her to be MY wife. And now…”
He paused, slipping his tongue across his bottom lip. Ella’s frown had deepened. She gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth over and over again.
“You know, you look like a fish when you do that,” he said.
“How dare you?” Ella muttered. It seemed a droplet of sweat glistened on her forehead. “I just. I can’t…”
“What do you mean, how dare I?” Peter asked chuckling. “You’re the one in love with the groom.”
“It’s just. How very typical. Of course, you love Tatiana,” Ella said, allowing her shoulders to slump forward. “I can’t keep track of all of you. It’s like all of you were created in a factory to love my sister. Although, I dare say that you – of all of them – might be the most suitable for her. You’re both so terribly…”
Ella trailed off. Peter smirked, sensing that whatever word she longed to insert wasn’t exactly an insult, but wasn’t a marvellous compliment, either.
“Well, never mind that,” Ella continued, coughing. She brought her toe along a bit of dirt beneath the rose bush, scuttling the dirt to the grass beyond.
“Never mind. You’re precisely right.” Peter laughed.
They remained like that for a moment, both stealing glances at one another. Peter felt he’d walked into a dream. Throughout the previous months that he’d been awash with pleasure, thinking only of the future he was planning with Tatiana, he hadn’t given Ella Chesterton a single thought. In fact, in many respects, he’d forgotten that Tatiana had a sister. Prior to this evening, if someone had asked him, he might have told them that Tatiana was an only child.
But goodness, Ella was beautiful just now, with the late afternoon light casting itself across her tears, making them glow orange against her pale cheeks.
What would it be like to kiss her?
It was a strange question, one he immediately shoved from his mind. Tatiana: she was the woman he yearned to kiss, more than anything. How he’d always hungered for her lips, yearned to press her lithe body against his! He felt they were an essential match of vitality and occasional anger and whip-fast conversation.
He couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else, just as, it seemed, Ella couldn’t imagine herself with anyone but Frederick.
“You know. It’s terribly bizarre that we both find ourselves in the same predicament,” Peter said, clearing his throat.
“Does it mean that we should believe in nothing?” Ella whispered, almost whimpering. “Does it mean that our lives will be filled with non-stop heartache, in the wake of this? We’ll never be with the ones we love the most.”
The words tried to slice Peter through the heart. But Peter lashed them away, lifting his chin. He had never allowed himself to be cast aside like this, never in his life! Why would he allow it now?
“Ella. I don’t suppose you’d like to be in on something with me. Would you?” he asked.
“In on something?” Ella asked. She scrunched her eyebrows together, forming little wrinkles between her brows.
How adorable those wrinkles were.
“What on earth do you mean?” she asked.
“Aren’t you meant to be the intelligent one?” Peter asked scoffing.
“Don’t be cruel,” Ella said, sniffling. “I’ve had a rather difficult few days. If you’re going to be cruel, then you might as well leave me here.”
“What? You’d like to get more private crying done within the garden?” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “Frankly, darling, I think there’s a bit more we can do. I’ve never completed much in this life while crying about it. If you have a different experience of the world, then you had best tell me about it. But I dare say I’ve been successful thus far.”
Ella reached towards the far corner of the bench, drawing up a glass of wine that Peter hadn’t yet seen. She glugged half of it back, then knocked the back of her hand across her mouth. She paused for a long moment; her eyes focused upon Peter. He felt as though she could peer directly inside of him, was perhaps deducing the darkness of his soul (whether or not he had one).
