She was about to protest when she saw the light teasing smirk on his mouth. She wished to kiss him in that moment, seeing that smile. How she wanted to be back in the library, where there would be nobody to disrupt them like there had been almost a week ago. If Daphne had not entered would Graham have continued? Would he have kissed her?
“If I am naive to want peace then so be it,” she murmured, a smile on her face as the music began again in a sweeping waltz. Graham’s face returned to its stoic seriousness, and Amelia found her breath short. Heavens, he was handsome, with the deep, dark eyes that seemed to pierceright through her, and his broad shoulders, long hair that was styled elegantly back from his face, and the jawline that was always pronounced. She constantly wished to run her fingers over it, to see if it was as sharp as it looked. Sometimes, there was a smattering of dark facial hair, a thing that Daphne had said meant that her brother was struggling.
He was now clean-shaven, and it only rendered him more handsome in her eyes.
And he was looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered.
Before the tumult of the scandal, before she had uttered ill-timed words, before she had endured days in solitude whilst he brooded, they had once danced, and the world had receded into the background. It did so now, and she found no desire to feign that this dance belonged to a time prior to their troubles. Rather, she came to the realization that this was the most fulfilled she had felt since their hastily arranged marriage. As if, by engaging in this dance together, they had at last discovered their concord.
Would he feel the same if she voiced her thought?
Why, every time I get near, do you pull away? You say you are cursed but what are you afraid of, for you will not lose me?
They glided around the dance floor, their steps light and wide, perfectly synchronized. It was as though they had finally found their way back to one another. A simple man and lady whose worlds had collided and they were now learning how those pieces fit together.
Her doubts were shed as she gazed at her husband, her breath catching with how her emotion was mirrored in his, as if finally he had realized that she was honest and true. Could he grow to love her? Could he grow to want her, as she wanted him? To think of a future with her that did not only consist of separate rooms and disjointed mealtimes. Was this the version of her husband who would do more than merely tolerate her simply because he had dutifully saved her from being ruined?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Graham could not stop looking at his wife, at seeing the openness in her gaze, and the hope that shined in him nearly shattered him.
She cares for me, he thought, ashamed that he ignored such a fact.She is not simply married to me because she was forced into it.For so long he had convinced himself that was how Amelia felt: forced and trapped into a marriage with him simply because they had dared to have a conversation in a hedge maze.
Was it possible that Amelia could grow to love him?
And was it possible that she would be the very thing to help him break down his walls?
I need to confide in her, he thought, his chest tight.I must tell her about my past, about why I am the way I am. I must tell her and hope that she will understand and remain strong at my side.
Even as he was terrified to do that very thing, he knew it was time to stop running.
Amelia had thrown this whole ball for him, to do her duty as a duchess while keeping him as comfortable throughout it as was possible. What had he done to make her comfortable? What had he done to accommodate the beautiful woman who had married him with her sad eyes and her lack of complaint?
He had been terrible to her, a true beast, ignoring her, walking away from her, and yet she had remained steadfast, returning to show him he was not alone.
He was reluctant to part from her once the dance ended. Around him, he was aware of the other couples retreating from the dance floor, but neither of them moved. The guests remained in their circle around them but Graham barely saw them. He only had eyes for his wife, wondering why his stomach lurched whenever he looked for a moment too long. Was the ballroom quiet, or was that the blood roaring in his ears?
He had been struck by doubt and fear ever since his wedding to Amelia. Weeks of constantly doubting himself, waiting for the next gossip about them, too busy worrying about himself to truly ever notice her and her own struggles. He had looked away from eyes shiny with tears because it only ever worsened his guilt.
“Amelia,” he murmured, not willing to let go of her hand. His hand on her waist only tightened, as if his world would end if he let go. He wasterrified—scared of this moment ending and returning to his natural defensive ways that he could not let go of yet.
“Do not,” she whispered, her eyes imploring. “Do not apologise or say anything that means you will step away from me.”
His face tightened with an internal, emotional pain. “I cannot understand why you do not wish to distance yourself from me.”
“Because you did not trap me in a marriage, Graham,” she said quietly. “And I am perfectly capable of making my decisions about a man that has intrigued me ever since our first waltz.”
Heavens above, his chest hurt. It was as though he collected every word he could not confess and stored it right where his heart beat, and each word only ever clogged up the rapidly beating thing, useless as it was.
“Oh, comeon.” A voice broke over the ballroom, loud in the held silence. “We all know of His Grace’s penchant for hurting others. It is rather uncanny, is it not? He hurts everybody he gets close to.”
Graham’s heart stopped.
Slowly, he turned to look for the source of the voice that he already knew would be there.
“Percival.” His mother’s voice rang out from another part of the ballroom but Graham hardly heard her, hardly saw her, as his vision narrowed on his cousin. Percival’s hair was fallen from any style, and his cravat was loosened as he stumbled forward. His face had the slack look of someone who had drunk one too many glasses of wine and felt not quite in control of themselves any longer. “Percival, silence yourself.”
“Ha!” Percival called out, falling into a couple that both scowled at the disruption. “Have we not all stayed silent for too long? His Grace, HisillustriousGrace and his ever-beautiful wife, both parade themselves around this ballroom tonight as if respect might be earned back so easily.” Percival’s angry, hard eyes landed on Graham. “But we all know the truth, cousin.”
