Page 40 of The Lord I Once Loved

Something in my question struck a chord. Before I could finish speaking, the Lord interrupted me.

“Enough.”

His tone had suddenly shifted from one of honest vulnerability to cold, uncompromising indifference. His statement wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I said,shut up.” He said with a glare, his tone final and biting.

My mouth clamped shut. I felt stung, like a puppy slapped across the face. I swallowed, feeling as if I had somehow ruined something. My question had been genuine and innocent, but perhaps I had gone too far… prodding Will in places he had never been prodded before.

In places that hurt.

He sighed, seeing my wounded appearance.

“I’m sorry, Amelia. This conversation is simply… over.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around my chest.

The rest of the trip was consumed by silence; the only noise being the rocking of the carriage, and the rush of wind outside its walls.

Had I been foolish to ask such questions? He had made it clear that we were still friends, and that somehow, we could converse as if we were equals… or near equals, anyways. Amelia and Will, old friends.

But it was only up to a certain point. There was an invisible line, and once I crossed it, he was in command again.

I would be wise to remember my place.

Because, at the end of the day, I couldn’t forget who we were. Childhood friends, perhaps. Amelia and Will, in private.

But in reality, I was a poor nobody, and he was a handsome Lord who could do whatever he pleased.

The world was his. I was simply living in it.

And whatever his demons were… if I tried to help him battle them, I’d likely get burnt in the crossfire.

Chapter Eight

Will

Igotlittlesleepthat night. Past midnight, the carriage met bad weather coming in from the east. Harsh rain and strong winds shook the enclosure, and the horses bucked, terrified by the summer storm. Despite the frightening conditions, we soldiered on. Stopping would have cost us hours – perhaps longer than Amelia’s uncle had left.

Besides the weather, though, I couldn’t put my mind at ease. No matter how hard I tried, the mousy girl across from me kept creeping into my fitful dreams.

At first, after she’d brought up the subject of my parents… mymother… I had been angry. How dare she be so bold as to discuss such matters with me?

Who did she think she was?

I wanted to put her in her place. To command her to realize her impertinence.

But as the hours passed and I had time to reflect on the interaction, I realized that I had invited her inquiries. I had insisted to her that we be friends again, that she refer to me by my given name… I had created an atmosphere of intimacy between us, pretending like we were the same friends we had been so many years before.

Of courseshe would ask about the tragedies that had befallen me in the time we had spent apart: that was what a friend did.

And, in return, I was supposed to give her something back. Vulnerability and honesty, or something of that sort.

But I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t capable of it.

I had encouraged her friendship without realizing what it meant, and now, I wasn’t sure what to do about her.

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