Page 35 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Something within Ella’s eyes stirred him. He bit down on his lip, tasting the metallic sting of blood. Again, Ella opened her perfect lips to speak, but Peter lifted his palm towards her, alerting her that it wasn’t necessary.
“What is it?” she murmured. Her voice was very nearly lost in the soft shuffle of the rose bush around them.
Peter longed to say what was truly on his mind: that, hidden there in the rose bush, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect woman than Ella herself. That just now, even with Tatiana’s voice sweeping across the moors, beautiful and textured, he longed to step closer to Ella, to inhale her scent, to become a part of her.
That perhaps now, he was acknowledging the true root of his issue:
Perhaps his allegiance had shifted. Perhaps, all the nights he’d spent since the garden party, aching, had had very little to do with Tatiana herself. Perhaps it had had everything to do with the fact that Ella wasn’t speaking with him. Perhaps his stomach tightened at night, making him unable to eat, only because he knew Ella spun with rage due to his inability to see the “truth” of what they were conducting in their operation.
Now, he demanded it of himself: Had he only come to the Chesterton estate to see Ella? Had he expected that she would storm out, tear him towards the side garden, and demand that he not do precisely what he said he was going to?
He imagined it, now: the reality of what he’d said he wanted. He imagined pounding up the back steps of the Chesterton estate, discovering Tatiana at the pianoforte, his legs weak. She would gaze at him with those doe-like eyes, sputtering slightly.
“Peter? My goodness, what sort of commotion is this?” she might ask. And the words would seem so pure in Peter’s ears.
But midway through telling her — saying that in fact, he loved her, that he felt himself a far more worthy match for her than anyone else in the world (and certainly Frederick) — he imagined that he might grow lacklustre in his words. For in fact, even as he verbalised them in his own mind, he recognised how insignificant they were.
In fact, the previous few weeks, he’d grown increasingly close with Ella. He’d grown accustomed to the beautiful gleam of her smile, the soft tone of vanilla that sprung from her neck, the sophisticated nature of her opinions (which seemed fitting for a member of Parliament, rather than the girl who stood before him now).
Ella’s eyes remained upon him. They seemed to drill into his very being, trying to make sense of him. His heart shifted, knowing that she, in fact, was still tossing in the chaos of her love for Frederick. How wretched, always, to love someone who didn’t love you.
“Ella,” he murmured, loving the sound of the syllables on his own tongue. “Ella, I understand what you’re saying is eternally correct.”
“You do?” Ella asked. She drew her head back a bit, looking almost bird-like.
“I’ve heard you completely,” Peter continued.
Ella’s face was difficult to read. Her eyes were foggy, unlike the normal electric green they ordinarily evoked. Peter wondered if, in actuality, she’d wanted him to fight for Tatiana, if only so she could come out the one who’d wanted to “champion” her sister’s feelings (while making him do the dirty work). But in fact, this didn’t seem to be her personality at all.
Nothing about Ella was anything but genuine, which gave him continued pause. Tatiana wasn’t entirely like this. She kept things to herself, played a sort of game with people. At least, that had always been his understanding of the older Chesterton sister — throughout all the years he’d ignored the younger one.
“I’m terribly sorry that the love of your life is marrying your sister,” he continued, clearing his throat. “It must be the most wretched thing in the world, continually watching Tatiana tear your happiness out from under you. Throughout your entire life, this has been a theme. Hasn’t it?”
Ella nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping. “I don’t want to be the sort to agonise over that fact,” she murmured. “As you know, I uphold my love for her over everything.”
And I uphold my love for you over everything, Peter longed to say, now. But the switch was far too quick, so much so that it probably seemed improper, almost false.
“Please, Ella. I beg of you,” Peter said instead. “Please, don’t find yourself heartbroken that Frederick will be wed to your sister. I know you love him with a purity that perhaps even Tatiana could never muster.”
Ella’s lips remained parted, as though she was on the verge of saying something, perhaps interrupting him. Because of this, he spoke more quickly, not wanting to fall away from his half-sure wave of thought.
“Perhaps throughout your life, your parents, your peers have told you that Tatiana is the more beautiful of the two of you. But I must urge you to know that this isn’t true. Your looks are entirely different, yes. But you’re just as beautiful. Perhaps more so, because you’re not sure of it.”
Ella frowned. He sensed she was hanging on his every word, aching, yearning to know what he might say next.
“And I’m sure throughout your life, your peers have upheld her as the more interesting of the two of you. But I can promise you, after knowing you only a few weeks, in a more intimate way, you are just as interesting, if not more so.”
Ella’s eyebrows stitched together over her nose. The effect was entirely genuine and disarming. Again, Peter had the sudden inclination to cling to her, wrap his thick arms around her and inhale the scent of her neck, kiss her, sweep her from her feet and carry her with him wherever it was she wanted to go. He would carry her to the moon if that’s what she willed.
“You don’t mean it,” she murmured, her voice nearly lost.
“But I do,” Peter returned. He sensed he was losing his grip, that he needed to cast himself from the estate and regroup. But as he fumbled to the side, drawing himself away from her, he felt her eyes like daggers. “Ella, you and your sister are simply very different people, with equally different, wonderful things about you. One day, you will make an incredible wife for someone. They will look at you and realise that you will give them everything they’ve ever dreamed of. Sharp wit. Banter. Laughter that will carry them throughout the rest of their days.”
Ella’s eyes filled with tears. Peter’s stomach urged him once more to take her, to take her right there and then. But he took a delicate step back from the rose bushes, his mind racing.
“I know if we’re caught in this reality, here alone by the roses, a scandal will ensue,” he said, trying to find a different, harder tone. He winked at her, and the wink throttled through him, made him feel entirely the fool. How dreadful it suddenly was, imagining her with anyone else. “One day, you’ll find a man to stand back here in the bushes with you. He’ll whisper his love for you. And you’ll know that all this heartbreak was for a very, very good reason. You’ll feel it in your bones.”
With that, Peter shot out of the bushes, thrusting his feet, one after another, through the grass. He felt like a mechanical person, a robot, just trying to crank his way to safety.
