Chapter Twenty-Eight
Georgiana
Ten Days Later
Mercutio hadn’t left my side since I’d arrived home. He’d become a verifiable companion. Not just in the barn, but out on walks, now, too.
They say animals know when something is wrong. Perhaps that was why Mercutio had come to me in the first place. He’d felt how broken I was nearly a year ago. He’d come when I needed him, but he’d otherwise lived his life with his many wives and his tomfoolery.
Now that I had well and truly lost myself, Mercutio had found new purpose.
Sometimes he followed me all the way to the door of the dower house, where I now resided.
Just a short walk from the big house, but it was my own space where I could spend my days and nights without worrying about interrupting my brother.
Peter had the servants dress it up a bit—a bookshelf here, a painting there, my harp, and new rugs for the floors.
I still dined with him and Amelia in the evenings, and I still spent time in the barn, where I now lay on an old wool blanket in the hay.
With Mercutio cuddled close against my stomach, and the final few pages of Udolpho lit by dusty beams of afternoon sunlight, I sighed, thinking of Cleo and the library.
Of Lucas.
My favorite memories. I missed him so badly, my chest felt like an aching, open wound, and I had to bite my cheeks to keep the tears from coming.
“Steady, Mercutio,” I whispered, steeling myself against the rising emotions. “Steady.”
Mercutio snuggled closer, his eyes closed, and placed his little paw on my arm.
Udolpho had lost its appeal. But I read on so at least Emily could have her happy ending.
Mercutio’s right ear perked up. Then his right eye peeked open.
Then the left. His head slowly lifted.
“Please don’t let it be a rat. I cannot bear it.” I listlessly flipped to the final page and read.
The last words felt final. Like I’d closed a chapter in my life by finishing this book. Valancourt had lost all appeal. I doubted any fictional man could possibly live up to the real one still etched on my heart.
A gentle tap sounded on wood. I groaned, rolling over with the blanket around my body. Please don’t be Amelia. As much as I loved my sister-in-law, as grateful as I was for her recent coddling and affection, some sorrows needed to be endured alone.
Mercutio stood and stretched.
Tap, tap.
If it weren’t for the baby, I’d ignore her. I sighed and pushed myself up. “I am here,” I called.
I turned round to the barn door, and there he was.
Lucas, haloed in light like some sort of god come down to earth. His smile lit up his whole face, and I was frozen. Dreaming.
“Georgiana.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “You look well.”
Well? I touched my hair and immediately felt straw. My face flushed with crimson heat. “What are you doing here?” rushed out in a frenzied voice.
Mercutio stalked toward him with predatory strides, sizing him up.
Lucas followed my gaze and immediately grinned. “Mercutio?” He bent down, and Mercutio’s shoulders aligned to pounce.
I jumped up. “No, Mercutio—!”
Lucas reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handful of something. My fierce protector took a few hesitant steps closer and sniffed it. Whatever it was, he literally ate out of Lucas’s hand.
I stood there completely bewitched. This perfect, polished man was in my hay barn, feeding my filthy, beloved cat. Why?
“Forgive me,” Lucas said. “I’d hoped to meet him. This is Cleo’s favorite treat.”
When he wasn’t looking, I swiped at my cheeks, tugging straw from my untidy hair. Heavens, I had bathed only last evening, but look at me!
When Mercutio finished, he gave Lucas a kingly look, blinked around his domain, then stalked off as though his work was finished for the day.
On the contrary, cats could most certainly not read a person because I was completely out of my mind, something was very wrong, and Mercutio did not care one whit!
Lucas stood and swiped his hands on his trousers. His expensive, flawlessly tailored trousers that now had Mercutio’s drool all over them. I flushed even harder.
Lucas looked around, unbothered. “So, this is your barn?”
Bury me! “Yes,” I said through a painful lump in my throat. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
As though I might have cleaned it in the interim.
Lucas grinned, seeming all too pleased to linger. “Have you finished Udolpho?” He motioned to the corner of the book poking out from where I clutched the blanket around me.
Oh, why had he come! We had both said what we’d needed to say. We’d ended things between us irrevocably, and with good reason. This was the most painful conversation I had ever experienced in my life.
“I just read the last page.”
He took a few cautious steps closer. His eyes trailed the wide burrow of hay where I’d been reading. Again, he smiled to himself. “I did too. Finished the last volume last night at the inn.”
Finished? Lucas read Udolpho? “The inn?”
“I’ve been in Hampshire for a few days now. Your brother and I . . . I wanted to get to know him better.”
My brows furrowed, and Lucas watched the spot between them. His eyes softened. He said, “My favorite part was when—” He tilted his head, then motioned for my book. “Do you mind if I read it to you?”
Still flustered, I shook my head and, struggling to keep hold of the blanket, handed him the book. He chuckled, taking the book, and then tugged on the blanket, which I released from my shoulders. He spread it out over the imprint I’d left in the burrow and flourished a hand at the space.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
My legs were shaking as I complied, and he wordlessly crouched beside me. His knee brushed mine as he scooted onto the blanket, glancing—nervously?—as though to ask for my permission.
I did not know what to say. My mind argued with my heart. I yearned to have him near. But he should not be here. He should not have come. With everything between us now, we could not hope to be friends.
I’d always want more. And so, I hoped, would he.
Dash him! I should be angry! I had made the hard decision to leave. I had suffered for both of us and left him to happier, much better things than I could give him. Could he not just leave me in peace?
He thumbed Udolpho’s bound leather and its pages as though it was the most precious book he’d ever touched, then opened to a page.
I perched on an elbow, studying his familiar features.
Despite it all, I’d missed him so much I could cry.
The strong, smooth angles of his jaw. The crease in his left cheek.
His beautiful, clear blue eyes. Every freckle and every line.
Every healing scar and every blemish. His lips, the perfect shade of pink.
His hair, so thick and golden. I would give anything to have him stay.
He smiled at a page. “Ah. There she is.”
“Who?” I breathed, lingering between the joy and pain of his nearness.
“Theresa.” His eyes read down the page, brightening. “My favorite character in the whole book.”
The old servant? I let myself smile as I watched him read, and he caught me, grinning back.
“Do you remember when Emily rejects Valancourt over all he had purportedly done in Paris?” he asked.
I nodded, mesmerized by his profile, his hands encasing my book.
“Here it is.” He leaned back on the hay, raised the book to nose level, swallowed, and cleared his throat.
“Theresa, speaking to Emily, says, ‘Dear, dear! To see how some people fling away their happiness, and then cry and weep about it, just as if it was not their own doing, and as if there was more pleasure in weeping and wailing than in being at peace.’”
His eyes traveled the page, as though perhaps he read the words again and agreed with their wisdom.
If only it were that easy to choose peace. If only there were no consequences.
Lucas lowered the book, shifting his knees toward mine.
“It would seem that Theresa, both servant and friend, who has had to watch Emily’s heartache over losing Valancourt, is frustrated.
Emily could have married the man right then and there, if she’d wanted to.
” Lucas’s eyes met mine, softening. “If she’d trusted him.
She already knew his heart was good. Instead, they broke apart, and they were miserable. ”
They were. For a long while, until the very end when the truth of Valancourt’s character was resolved, and Emily married him. In the book, Valancourt was redeemed. There would be no such redemption for me.
“It’s just a story. Fiction.”
“Fiction can still teach us things. You think there are no Theresas in the real world? No Emilys and Valancourts acting ridiculous? That book was painfully long, and yet I have learned a few valuable lessons from it. The first being that when you have something good, you don’t make excuses for why you shouldn’t have it. ”
He looked so serious, his light-blue eyes so earnest, so sure. I fingered a piece of hay on my skirts and looked away.
He closed my book, tossed it aside on the blanket, and stretched out his legs. I felt his gaze wash over me with gentle examination.
“Do you have business in town?” I prodded. I really wanted to ask, When must you leave? How much time do we have?
Lucas shook his head, lounging like he had all the time in the world. He reached out and pulled a piece of hay from near my ear. His eyes found mine, watching me. “I came to see you.”
I swallowed hard. As I’d feared. His visit was a knife twisting in an old wound. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“That is what Emily St. Aubert said to Valancourt, and yet he persisted.” His smile softened. His thumb brushed a bit of dust from my cheek.
“Lucas,” I breathed, reveling in his touch, angling for more of his fingers on my skin.
“Your brother said to give you time, but I cannot bear another day.”
My brows furrowed. “My brother said?” I sat up ramrod straight. “Lucas, are you playing some sort of game with me?”