Chapter 30 - William #2
With that final proclamation, she turned and abandoned him to the dim light of the hallway. After a moment, he heard her quick footsteps on the front stairs.
Several minutes later, a door closed just behind him. He turned to find Dahlia standing there.
"William," she said, a hand to her chest. "You frightened me."
"Apologies. I was just examining these interesting titles."
"You have an interest in gardening?"
"Certainly."
He smiled, searching for any sign that Dahlia was affected by his presence the way he was hers. But she was all that was collected. As he watched, she tucked her hands into her dress pockets and lifted her chin.
"All the books on gardening are in the library. These are books of science."
"I'm interested in that as well."
She shook her head. "Why are you really here, William?"
"I came to apologize."
"For what?" Her lifted eyebrow was a clear challenge.
He'd practiced a hundred lines, a thousand pretty words to say if he got the chance. Now, in the face of her large blue eyes and her lovely face, they fled like rats from a shipping crate pried open on dock.
At the same time, the depth of his own idiocy came crashing down upon him. How could he have not seen what was before him all these past weeks? It boggled the mind. Perhaps he should go see the doctor.
He shook his head and refocused. How to say why he was apologizing to her without embarrassing her?
"William, I have guests waiting for me."
"I once thought that the biggest regret I'd ever have was how I treated you that evening in the Whittakers’ gardens.
" He kept his voice low so there was no possibility someone could overhear them.
Even still, she tensed. "I know now that though it was an affront to propriety, I don't regret it.
In fact, I think of our time there often. "
"So you've come to take back your apology?"
"I've come to revise it. I realize I hurt you, and I wish—more than anything—that I could take that pain back."
Her arms were crossed over her chest; her eyes were narrowed. She opened her mouth as if to upbraid him. William shocked them both by stepping forward and settling his large hands at her waist. To his surprise, she didn't pull away.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, Dahlia. I'm sorry for not knowing my own mind, my own heart until it is possibly too late. I came here today to tell you I'm sorry, to tell you that I love you. To tell you that I want to marry you, if you'll have me."
"What?"
Her large blue eyes went wide; he certainly had her full attention now. Her body was softening into his touch—she uncrossed her arms, rested her delicate fingers on his wrists. William thought she didn't even realize she'd done it.
The feel of her waist beneath his palms was more effective than any whiskey. He felt warm, languid, and also energized, like he could climb the masts of a hundred ships without stopping. But this wasn't about him. He had her attention now; he was determined to use the time wisely.
"What part of that needs more explanation?"
She blinked. "All of it, I should think."
"Then let me reiterate my apology. The rest of it can wait until you're ready. I'll wait until you're ready."
Dahlia bit her lower lip, shook her head. He could almost hear the thoughts racing. She was talking herself out of daring to believe him. He'd never been more frightened—not even during the one shipwreck he'd survived.
"Please," he begged. "Just listen. I hurt you with my careless words, my careless actions. And not only that night in the Whittakers’ gardens—"
Her expression went taut with anger. "It’s because of our first meeting that you decided to throw away every social convention where I was concerned.
It was because of our first meeting that you believed you didn't need to handle my emotions with half as much care as you would have offered anyone else.
You led me on—you say it was unknowingly.
And yet everyone could see it. Even Claire was shocked at your words.
How could you possibly think that I wouldn't be hurt, William?”
"I didn't think—"
"Obviously not. If a different gentleman had treated one of your sisters in the same manner, how great your reprobation would be! Tell me, William—is that not correct?"
He clenched his jaw together. Her words wouldn’t have landed as strongly if there hadn't been the weight of truth behind them; he felt them as a physical blow. She was right—he'd been careless with her heart.
"I am sorry, Dahlia. I will make it up to you. If you believe nothing else I say, know this—I didn't hurt you on purpose."
"Does that make it better?" Her eyes were unnaturally bright. "Does it make it better that you were stupid and careless and didn't mean it, and that I still—" She blinked rapidly.
That you still what? he wanted to demand.
She stiffened. "William, if you care for me at all, let me go before my absence starts a rumor."
He dropped his hands; she strode away.
William stood flexing his empty fingers. He could hear the murmur of conversation start up once more in the parlor down the hall.
“That didn’t go very well,” Rachel said from behind him.
William turned to find her standing in a small paneled doorway tucked to the side. “You were eavesdropping? I thought you went upstairs.”
She shrugged. “I came back down. Servants’ stairs.”
“She hates me.”
“She hates what she feels for you.”
“I don’t think she feels anything for me except anger.”
“Are you a coward?” Rachel came to stand before him, her eyebrows drawn together. “Are you giving up already?”
“Of course not. Forgive me for not rejoicing at how poorly my apology was received.”
“Then apologize again, you ninny. And prove to her with your actions that you meant every word you said.” She jabbed him sharply in the chest with a finger.
“And keep proving it to her until she has no choice but to believe you. Can you do that? Can you work to regain her trust, no matter how long it takes?”
“I’ll chase her for a lifetime if she’ll let me.”
“Good.” She turned to walk away then paused. Over her shoulder she said, “Tomorrow, you may bring me books.”