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He was proving himself to be all she could ever hope for in a husband in terms of kindness and consideration.
And yet, when she now looked back on their first night, it felt as though he’d given her a glimpse, a taste of what could have been. His jacket and cravat missing, his shirt open to his chest. His fine physique evident. His dark, intense stare holding hers as he drew in closer, then closer still. His breath lifting a curl off her neck.
“Dinah?”
She blinked, and the room came back into focus around her.
“Are you all right? You seem rather distracted this morning.” Henry said.
He sat there, watching her. The same dark, intense eyes, the same well-shaped physique. And yet, it wasn’t the same as that night at all. Now, he was so far away. Now, errant thoughts of kisses weren’t bouncing about her brain, and she wasn’t left wondering if he hadn’t had the same thoughts.
“Perhaps I did not sleep as well last night as I thought.” Yes, she’d been granted a taste of what could be, one that still filled her heart and would not be forgotten. But since that night, Henry had refused to revisit such a situation. He’d simply backed off, placing them both on friendly terms, undeniably dispassionate,friendlyterms.
Henry, still watching her, nodded and then turned the conversation on to plans for attending Almack’s that evening.
Dinah listened but didn’t say much more. Her chocolate now seemed bitter and her eggs chewy. Why Henry was so bent on keeping their relationship platonic, she could not say. He’d declared that first day that he would never fall in love with her.
Perhaps he’d been right all along. Perhaps, though he was what she wanted, she wasn’t at all to his liking.
Perhaps she’d been a fool to hope otherwise.
