Had she expected he would be enraptured with the tale of love when he himself neither believed in nor had ever experienced it firsthand? Even if he had the romantic spirit, the fact remained that he was missing from an event he was hosting. Logic said to let him return. That they could continue later.
Her soul, however, said if she let him, it would be the last solitary meeting they had together.
She hastened to collapse what she needed and wanted to say into the short time.
“Lore is strong in my family. We are romantic, grand, and given to scandal. I always knew what I wanted: a gentleman with a big laugh, a character as scandalous as my family. He wouldn’t mind me being…what I am.”
She held her breath, hoping he would remind her of her wonderful qualities. Not liken her to the other McQuoids.
She was fated to hold her breath. There came no grand rush to her defense.
Restless, Fleur wandered over to the portrait of Henry as a boy. She stared up at him, searching for a trace of vulnerability in his likeness.
“That night at Lord and Lady Rutland’s seemed magical. It was forbidden and thrilling. Mine was supposed to be a grand story built for legend and lore.”
Her nape tingled from the burn of his gaze upon her.
Fleur turned back. “But it wasn’t real, Henry. It was fun and romantic, what I thought I wanted,” she said softly.
His lack of disdain gave her a quiet sign of hope.
“It wasn’t very long ago, yet it feels like forever. So much has changed. I am different now.”
For a moment, she caught a wistful glimmer in his eyes.
Whatever had happened between last night and now, her Henry was still in there.
“I thought I knew what I wanted and then I met y-you…” Her throat convulsed. “You were responsible and honorable. I didn’t realize how much I longed for someone who would make me feel safe and seen. Someone who was solemn when the moments warranted. Someone who loved books as I do. Who could laugh with me and make me laugh.”
Fleur paused to draw a faltering breath. Her eyes burned.
“You make me laugh, Henry.” She came closer, needing his warmth. “You made me rethink all that I believed about family, loyalty, and love.”
Until him, she blindly followed her family. She hadn’t seen their faults or their tendency to close others out.
“You love so deeply, you sent Jeremy to us to save him. You knew your household was free of laughter. You couldn’t have it for yourself, so you ensured Jeremy would—even if it meant you were left behind.”
God, how she loved him.
Fleur lifted her stare. Her tear-filled eyes blinded his beautiful visage. “My family should have welcomed you as they did Jeremy.” Instead, they judged him simply because he possessed a gravity her kin didn’t.
He held himself so rigid it was a wonder he did not break.
As if he could; Henry was an impregnable fortress of a man. But he shouldn’t have to be.
A melancholy smile flickered on her lips. “I have never met anyone like you, Henry,” she whispered.
“Not even your mystery lover?”
Did she imagine the pain choking his utterance? Did she just want to hear it, and so did?
“When I told you I didn’t have any regrets about what happened that night at Lord Rutland’s, I wasn’t completely truthful. For so long, I railed at myself for having been so foolish as to cost me the possibility of what I really wanted—who I really wanted.”
“And who is that?” he asked hoarsely.
A tear fell free, followed promptly by others in its wake. “How can you not know, Henry? It is you. I love you.”
His chest moved hard as if he had just finished a race. He curled his hands tight at his side.
