Chapter 9 #2
“It was only when I was sixteen or so that things began to ache,” Caro said, trying to assure him, though she was not sure anything she said would bring comfort.
“Leaving you. Seeing you. Thinking of you. Dreaming of you. It all made me ache, in my heart and my mind and . . . eventually, just about everywhere. It felt both pathetic and heavenly. And then it was the very worst thing I ever could have imagined.”
A soft hint of a whimper came from Silas, and she bit the inside of her lip as she saw him hold up apologetic hands, his expression tortured.
She examined his face and asked his evident question aloud. “Why?”
Relief washed over him, and he nodded almost frantically.
Caro chuckled, but the sound was almost sad.
“Because young ladies are not supposed to wish for love to surpass all reasoning and sense of self. We are to be composed and refined, and anything else is nonsense. In fact, we are told not to dream of such things. My own mother once caught me sighing over you and told me it was foolish to wish for such things. I had to love you in secret from then on, lest I become a laughingstock. And that included with you. If I had told you how I felt, it might have saved us this pain, but you never gave me any indication that you felt more than what you had always felt, and how could I risk losing you? If I said these words, and you wanted me to remain more like a favorite sister, I would have been crushed, Silas. And I am neither brave nor bold. I could not risk it. I could not risk my heart in such a way. For my part, I am sorry for that.”
He shifted restlessly beside her but said nothing.
She rolled her eyes. “You may respond now, Silas.”
He exhaled an almost harsh breath, but then, oddly enough, said nothing at all. His mouth worked, his brows furrowed and smoothed, and he seemed to choke on words that refused to escape.
And this time, Caro could not, and would not, read the questions or reactions on his face.
What was there was not clear as it was, and she hadn’t lied when she said she did not know him now. And if he had loved her all this time and she had never seen it, perhaps she had never known him at all.
That was no one’s fault, of course. It was simply the way of things.
Which meant she would allow him the appropriate amount of patience to process his thoughts and emotions in order to express what he needed to.
“How . . .?” Silas began in a combination of a growl and a cough. “How can you love me? All of this time, all of these years, after what I have done to you . . .” He shook his head and fell silent once more.
Caro raised a brow and waited. When he said nothing, she laughed once.
“The same way you love me, I suppose. The manner in which you have tormented us both is not the only indication of your worth that I have to measure my affections by. I know you, Silas. I know your heart and your thoughts. I know how you view the world and how it chafes at your soul to have a social standing that pressures you to be more ambitious than content. I know how you love the quieter moments in life and how irked it makes you when someone breaks that silence. That is the man I fell in love with, not the one who abandoned me and claimed it was for my benefit.”
Silas made a pained sound, burying his face in his hands for a moment. Then he clasped his hands between his knees. “I am so sorry, Caro.” He laughed once, without any hint of humor. “And here I imagined myself striding back into your life and declaring myself to the sound of great applause.”
“From whom?” Caro asked with a derisive snort. “I would have hated it if you had declared yourself in front of a room of people.”
“I know that. Give me some credit for knowing you at least half as well as you know me.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “The applause was more emotional than literal.”
She wrinkled up her nose. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Silas shook his head and covered her hand with one of his. “No time spent with you could ever disappoint, no matter how it plays out.”
Her heart keened the plaintive cry of pathetic creatures everywhere.
Her mind, however, kept its wits.
“I appreciate that. But I need you to take some time, Silas, and decide if you can be the version of that man who loves me that I need you to be. Not the one you have been.” She cleared her throat and rose, shrugging out of his coat and laying it across his lap.
“If we are to love each other, Silas, then we need to trust each other, even with our hearts and our thoughts. And I don’t want to hear you tell me your answer now.
It is important enough to us both, and to the future that we want, to require careful and intentional consideration. ”
Silas opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it once more. “Can I . . . call on you tomorrow? With my answer?”
Caro nodded once. “You may. Now, I am going to return to the ballroom. If you wish to dance with me again this evening, you may, but only once. And no talk of love while you do so.”
“Yes, Primrose.” He smiled at her, and she was pleased to see that it was the typical smile of the boy she had been best friends with for longer than she could remember.
There might have been more behind it in his mind and in his heart, but in this moment, to her eyes, it was just the right touch of familiarity to set her at ease and to keep her mind from running over the revelations of the night.
“Then I will see you later.” She turned and walked sedately along the path back to the house, the ballroom, and the chaotic noise and gossip of the evening.