“I consumed a mere morsel.”
He set his hand on the bookshelf at my side and leaned into it. “My point stands. I do not want you to be afraid of speaking to me. We canhave this discussion at a later time or another location if it makes you more comfortable.”
“I’m not afraid.” I mustered the same bravado I had used after he had dragged me out of the pond, half drowned. Would he notice the similarity there too?
“Well, then. I stand corrected.”
I batted a curl off the side of my face. “Yes, you do.”
What was I saying? I did not want this conversation yet. I cared for him—that much was obvious by the insane staccato of my heart—but my heart was never meant to get involved in this manner. There were too many lies of omission and too many reasons why I had to return home and make certain I was not still engaged to someone else.
Amusement flashed in Atlas’s eyes. “It sounds as though you have prepared something to say to me. By all means, go ahead.”
When I found myself in an impossible situation, I studied the problem and came up with a reasonable solution. But I had not had time to study it out in my mind nor come up with any idea that felt at all reasonable. Perhaps if he was not standing so close I could think properly.
“We . . . you . . . and I . . .”
“Yes?” He dipped his head toward me, probably because I was whispering, and he did not want to miss what I was saying. But my eyes went to his mouth and my flustered state only grew.
“We are going to the theater,” I blurted.
He chuckled. “We are.”
“And we really should talk afterward,” I added.
He did not draw back. “I thought we were speaking now.”
Did he have to be so . . . so him? I was having a hard time forming coherent sentences. “We could talk, but after further consideration, Ibelieve we should talk later. After the theater. When we have had more time to, uh, get to know each other.”
His smile slipped and he nodded. “A wise suggestion.” Taking a step back, I noticed the way his playful gaze had sobered and his whole demeanor shifted. He carefully said the words, “I will see you in a few hours.” Was he regretting the theater or his interest in me? He dipped his head and left me alone in the library with my whirling thoughts. My stomach felt heavy, and though I was breathing normally again, my head hurt. What if I had ruined everything with my hesitation? After his effort to arrange the theater tickets, why couldn’t I follow my heart?
Before Augusta could return, I hurried from the library and up the stairs to my room. I flung the door open, found my reticule, and dug out the gold button. I clung to it, my hands shaking. Caring for a person who no longer seemed to exist was far easier than giving my heart to a man right in front of me.
Chapter 27
Atlas
Isat beside my mother in the back of the dark theater box, with Estelle and Augusta seated in front of us. My gaze was trapped on the back of Estelle’s head, rendering me incapable of concentrating on the play. In the time since our talk in the library, I had come up with many reasons that a courtship between us was a terrible idea. We lived in the same house. She worked for us. I struggled to trust others. She had secrets. I had secrets. Not to mention she carried hidden pain and struggles—struggles that included her wariness of a relationship with me.
All this, and yet, I still wanted a relationship with her. Had I read her interest in me wrong? Or was I reading too much into my own feelings and questioning everything again? I had never been an indecisive man, but my past had twisted even the most integral parts of me. When I was with her, a quiet calm settled over me, but in her absence, my weaknesses closed in like a relentless tide.
Estelle and Augusta laughed, and I easily picked out Estelle’s voice from my sister’s. The musical cadence of it rang in my mind, growing more familiar with each passing day. When she had said we should get to know each other better, I had sensed her building a protective wall around herself—one she feared I would cross. She had been right, though. I needed to understand her better. Sensing her partiality was notenough for either of us. I would not pursue another woman who could not reciprocate my feelings.
A round of applause signaled the intermission, and I stood to stretch my legs.
“Atlas,” Augusta said, coming around her seat to link arms with me. “Take us to get drinks, if you please.”
“Mother?” I asked. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
She shook her head. “I don’t require anything.” Her mouth formed a terse line, and she crossed her arms against her chest. She had been obsessing about Estelle too—but for completely different reasons than mine. She would not forgive herself for the lost references and was determined to learn who the Lewis family was and their connections.
I rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder before I left the box. Augusta and Estelle trailed behind me, and I slowed to walk with them.
“How are you enjoying the show?” I asked.
“It’s such a witty script,” Augusta said.
Estelle grinned. “I agree. And the costumes are delightful.”
