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Amelia’s heart was beating like mad. All logic told her that whatever that notebook contained was not meant for her eyes. It was concealed there for a reason. She should simply put it back, but her trembling fingers could do no such thing.
Feeling like a thief of someone’s thoughts which was what she would become if she read even a single word that this notebook contained, she walked over to the window where the sunlight illuminated the inked words on the paper. She opened the first page and drank it the words.
… we decided to spend the summer in Italy this time. It was mother’s choice, as always. We indulge her. There is no other way.
She smiled. Just from that one sentence, she could tell how much Arthur adored his mother. She continued, driven by voracious curiosity.
Today, I gifted Susan a kitten. She told me that she always wished for one, so I procured a small black and white bundle of fur. I do not remember anyone embracing me so joyously in my entire life…
Once again, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly face. Amelia wished she could control it, but where there was love, there was jealousy, and there was possessiveness. She could not wish Arthur’s past away. It was impossible. But she could remind herself that Lady Susan belonged to his past, the past that he desperately wanted to forget. She herself could be his present and his future. They could be each other’s. She smiled at the thought, at the possibility of somehow, against all odds, coming together.
Put it back,her mind said. It was still not too late. She didn’t read anything incriminating. She frowned at that thought. Why would she think that Arthur’s diary would contain something incriminating? Did she succumb once more to the belief ofthe tonregarding his character? Absolutely not. She knew better than to trust those who preferred judgment to understanding and compassion. Hungrily, she kept reading.
… and the fire started. I don’t know how it happened. I thought I extinguished the candle in the library of the western wing. That was where the fire started. That was where I started the fire without the slightest intention of doing it…
Amelia gasped, dropping the notebook down to the ground. It fell with a loud thump noise that exploded in the room around her. Her fingers were quivering. Her entire body betrayed the way her mind and heart were feeling about what she just read.
It couldn’t be, she told herself as she shook her head fervently. She misread it. Or maybe it wasn’t Arthur’s diary at all. It was someone else’s. Amelia could not think of anyone else right now, but… it couldn’t be. Arthur could not have caused the fire that killed his parents.
Slowly, she bent down and took the notebook in her hands again. She felt almost as if she were holding fire itself. It would leave burning red marks all over her skin, and she would never be able to rid herself off of them. But she could not put it back. She needed to read more. She needed to find out more. Her eyes devoured the text, the pain that she read in there, the desperation and guilt that he felt. It was as if she were peering right into his very soul, his broken soul.
Words flowed out from the paper and right into her heart. She could never even imagine how much pain he must have been in, and to have the only person he believed he loved leave him in that vulnerable moment must have felt as if his world was ending. All she wanted to do right now was to wrap her arms around him and assure him that his parents wouldn’t blame him even if he did forget that candle. It was an accident. A horrible, terrible, tragic accident, but an accident, nonetheless.
She glanced at the bookshelf. She needed to put it back exactly where it was, lest Arthur found out someone had been reading it. She wondered how long it had been there, waiting for a pair of curious eyes to lay themselves on it. She felt guilty but at the same time, closer to him. Even closer than she thought they could be after the previous night.
She looked forward to their dinner together. She would tell him about her plans with the house. She would ask him how his day was. She would ask him all sorts of questions just so she could forget all about this diary. Distraction. That would be her strategy.
Hastily, she put the notebook back and rushed out of the library as if there was a wildebeest running after her, threatening her very existence.
CHAPTER17
Arthur made sure to spend most of the day out of house. The truth was, he thought himself a savage. He appeared out of nowhere at Amelia’s door, taking what he wanted. Never in his entire life had he felt such a lack of constraint in front of a woman. Susan had never tempted him in such a manner. No other woman among the nameless, faceless, and irrelevant women he had known had ever put him in such a state that he felt he would die if he did not touch them. He could simply not think straight in her presence. Exercising more restraint and caution was good advice he had given himself, but how on earth was he to do that when he felt like his mind was not his own when she was around?
That was why he believed half a day away from her would provide some clarity of mind. Needless to say, it did not.
The moment he returned home, seeing her seated at the dining table, he immediately started to fantasize about doing more to her than he did the previous night. She immediately rose to her feet upon seeing him, and he approached her.
“My Lady,” he smiled. Not until this very moment was he aware of the fact that he missed her. He was away from her for less than twelve hours, and he felt lovelorn. She returned his smile.
“I thought I would be eating dinner alone,” she said.
He wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her. “By no means,” he assured her. “I was kept out on errands longer than I anticipated.”
He offered a simple explanation without much detail. After all, it was true. Hewasout on errands, taking care of some business which could not wait any longer. At that moment, he noticed that she had a pen and notebook by the plate. It was open as if she had just written something in it with her flowery script.
“Are you writing a secret diary?” he teased.
She immediately looked at the notebook then back at him. For some reason, she seemed startled. Obviously, therewasa diary that she kept. She had just revealed that much to him. He wanted to assure her that he would never invade her privacy in such a manner, but she spoke before he could say anything.
“No,” she corrected him. “It is merely a list of things I wish to mend still, around the house.”
“An entire list?” he smiled. For some reason, it pleased him. That meant that she was beginning to see this house as a home, asherhome. At the same time, that also meant that she was starting to see him as something more than just a man she would be living with. The notion made him hopeful as well as aroused. But it was dinner time now.
“If that is all right with you, perhaps we could hang some new pictures on the walls,” she suggested, grabbing the notebook, and reading from it. “That old Axminster in the library is absolutely dreadful.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he agreed as he walked around the table and took a seat opposite her. He preferred it like that instead of having her sit to his right or left. This way, he could just lift his gaze and look at her for as long as he wanted to without turning his head in either direction. “We shall purchase a new one then.”
“Also, the old piano in the music room,” she pointed out. “Perhaps we could have it tuned?”
