Chapter 24 #3
His honesty felt private and personal—like he was gifting me the secrets in his heart. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I spent many years avoiding my mother and my responsibilities here, but I understand her better now. It feels good to share it with someone. I’ve missed my sister.”
“I hope you speak of her more. Especially if it helps.” My emotions were torn. I wanted to stay in this moment forever, sitting so close and sharing confidences, but I was fooling myself. I swallowed hard and looked to the door. “I wonder what is keeping Augusta.”
“An excellent question. She has been gone for a while.” He casually pushed aside a lock of his dark-blonde hair, but I was not so at ease.
“Speaking of your mother,” I began, my fingers slowly pulling from his. “She could return at any moment. If she found us alone, I could lose my position here.” I pushed to my feet to put distance between us. I had forgotten myself.
It had been too easy with him beside me.
But I had thrown away my life to be a companion here.
Just because we were getting along did not make us compatible.
And lest I forget, I would remind myself of the blood that pumped through my veins.
It was half Irish. I had to tell him. I had to end whatever this was before it got out of hand.
“Atlas, I . . .” My voice faded as I realized I had said his given name.
A small smile played on his mouth. “Yes?”
“I mean, Lord Camden. Pardon the slip.” My cheeks burned. I swear his very presence was like a fire in the room, and blushing was a natural response to being near him. I wanted to cover my face with my hands, but I forced myself to grip the fabric of my skirt instead.
“Atlas is preferable,” he said, as if I were asking him what his preference for tea was. “I think we are beyond formal names by now. Do you not agree?”
I had been trying to tell him that we could not be so familiar, but it seemed he wanted to keep me on this heady, slippery slide.
I feared where I would land. He did not know the person standing before him—not really.
Flirting at a dinner party, stealing a private moment on a bench, or even a conversation of likes and dislikes was not enough.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. I was afraid to end the pull growing between us but afraid that if I did not it would hurt far worse than now. “I’ll admit, I’m confused.”
I didn’t even know myself any longer, so how could I possibly understand what I was feeling now?
Atlas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My I call you Estelle?” His request was calm, solid, grounding.
I nodded before I could talk myself out of it. I loved hearing my name on his lips.
“I was slow to trust you, but I was wrong to do so. There is a steadiness about you that I find comforting. You have a good heart. I sense there is more to your story—more to you—than I yet know, and there is more to my story as well. Despite this, we have become friends.”
I stared at him, surprised at his candor.
I agreed with him, even though I should have said he was wrong to trust me.
But I wanted to be his friend. I wanted it desperately.
I had justified my presence here, but now I felt like I was in the same league as Byron in his eyes: my choices and dishonesty condemned me.
I dug my fingernails into the soft skin of my palms.
“Although,” Atlas began, rising to his feet and stepping closer to me. “I sense if we let it, there might be something more than friendship between us.” It was not a question, but it hung in the air all the same.
A warmth spread through my body faster than any liquid ever could. “Your mother would not like it,” I stammered, but the argument was more for me than for him.
He came ever closer, until I could feel his breath on my lips. “No, she would not—but I would.” His gaze was like a person dipping their toes in water, testing the temperature—or in my case, testing the heat of my own resolve—and perhaps his own.
I wanted to step closer too. An inch closer would be everything. I felt the pull between us tightening. Fearing my restraint would crumble, I took a desperate step back.
The action stalled his progress. He ran his hand through his hair again, but this time in a distracted gesture. “Forgive me if I was too forward. Perhaps we should revisit this conversation when I return from Warwick?”
Tomorrow was Sunday and he would leave Monday for a few days. That was all I required to clear my head and form a decent response. “I should like that.” I feared to give him hope, but a small, shy smile betrayed me.
He was not touching me, but I felt the caress of his gaze on my face all the same. “I shall look forward to it.”
Those words melted my hesitation into a pathetic puddle.
Augusta was right.
I might not be in love quite yet, but I was falling fast.
If I was not completely enamored under her brother’s tender gaze, I would swear to never let Augusta leave my side again. Her matchmaking was causing havoc with my heart.