“It’s no matter.” She set the basin aside. “I suppose we’re even now. Lay your head down. It will be over soon.”
Henry flopped over onto her lap, the soft muslin of her gown cool on his cheek. “Thank you,” he muttered.
“Hush.” She stroked her fingers over his sweaty locks. His eyes drooped at the tender gesture, and he settled more fully.
“Distract me, please,” he said, drinking in her scent.
Christmas, that was it. She smelled like Christmas. Like home.
“Would you like the history of the Roman Empire? Greek mythology? One of those dreadful Grimm fairy tales?”
He shook his head and exhaled through pursed lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to marry Ashby?”
She stiffened, her fingers freezing in his hair for an instant before they resumed their soothing motion. “I didn’t think you would care to know.”
“Of course I cared,” he muttered, feeling himself slipping towards unconsciousness.
“You never wrote to me after the wedding,” she replied, her voice tight.
“I should have.” His words began to slur.
“Yes, I needed you to.” He felt her breath catch and immediately regretted probing this part of their story.
“Why did you marry him?” His tone was plaintive as he finally asked the question that had plagued him for years. The question that haunted him since he saw the notice in the papers, driving him to the most difficult confrontation of his life, only to discover he was too late. It had sent him to his bed for days, fighting the darkness pushing in from the edges until it nearly overcame him.
“Oh, Henry,” she said, her voice a whisper. “No one else wanted to marry me.”
He shook his head as best he could, his skin rubbing against the soft fabric, a caress threatening to toss him into sleep. “That’s not true….”
Her palm smoothed his hair, the strands slipping between her fingers. His mind tumbled into darkness, where the dream world and reality lose definition, when her words pierced the fog. “Why are you marrying her?”
Ellie did not need to say her name, nor did he want to hear it. But Henry wanted to respond, wanted to tell her the reason so desperately he ached for it. But his body wanted to sleep more, and before his thoughts could become words, he tumbled into dreams.
Chapter 7
Anotherrivuletofsweattrailed down between Ellie’s shoulder blades to join the pool at her lower back. “It’s awfully warm, isn’t it?”
Henry pulled at his collar, then wiped his brow with his damp handkerchief. “I suppose that’s why people don’t travel here in the summer.”
The docks in Rome were teeming with people, all perspiring heavily, but unlike Ellie and Henry, they seemed perfectly comfortable in the stifling conditions. She pushed a limp curl off her forehead. “If no one comes to Italy in the summer, then who are all these people?”
“My guess is those who enjoy the warmth, or who enjoy dripping to death?”
Ellie shifted in her damp slippers. Disembarking took twice as long as expected, and she needed to find a telegraph office before they closed. She had arranged for several women to care for her mother during her absence, paying them a ludicrous amount and threatening Victor with ritual dismemberment if he did not return to London and oversee the caretakers.
Her mother’s care had become all-encompassing, and her father had long since abandoned her to Ellie. While she’d had no desire to move back into her childhood home, she’d done so not a moment too soon; the night before she departed for Rome, she found her mother wandering the mews behind their home searching for her cat, a pet who had died nearly two decades prior.
The chill induced by her anxiety should have been a welcome sensation in the oppressive heat, but it caused Ellie to shiver. “Is this a good idea?”
“No, not at all. But it’s too late to turn back now.” Henry grinned at Ellie and everything was forgotten. How he could pour such joy into a miserable situation was beyond her. “Ellie,” he said, looking suddenly nervous, “I wanted to give you something before we disembark.” He drew a velvet pouch no larger than her palm from his jacket pocket and withdrew a gold band. “If we’re to be married, you should wear my ring.”
Ellie’s jaw dropped. “Henry, you didn’t have to—”
“I already had it. I mean—” he stammered, then took a deep breath and exhaled. “It was my grandmother’s. I had it set aside for… well, I’m not sure what I was waiting for.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Would you like to wear it?”
“This doesn’t belong to me.” Ellie shook her head. “You should give it to—”
“She has a ring,” he interrupted. “And that’s for the engagement. This is for when—” Henry stopped himself and looked away.
