Chapter Twenty-Eight
Andrew practically carried her to the carriage.
Her feet remained on the ground the entire way, but he was supporting all of her weight.
It would’ve been quite the honor if it were under any other circumstances.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted for her, an abrupt exit, as if she were running away in shame.
He’d wanted her to be able to walk out of Morley House with her head held high, triumphant in her victory.
He helped her up into the waiting carriage, and then she broke.
Her body had hardly touched the seat before she began to cry.
It wasn’t a tame expression of emotion, it was a complete shattering of her heart.
They were loud, wracking sobs, and Andrew didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone shake so hard.
Her teeth had to be cracking against each other, she shook so violently.
“Oh, Della,” he whispered, climbing up into the seat beside her.
He’d intended to sit on the opposite side, of course, but there was no way he could sit and bear witness to her devastation like this.
Andrew knocked on the roof, and they jolted into motion.
He figured the quicker they got away from Morley House, the better.
She’d pressed her hands against her face, covering her eyes.
She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, and Andrew didn’t know what to do.
He had no idea how to help. All at once, Della pitched forward, and she fell into his arms. He felt the backs of her knuckles against his shoulder, where she still held her fingers against her face.
He wrapped one arm fully around her body.
His other hand found the nape of her neck.
He ran his fingers through the thick hair that had escaped her pins.
“Shhh,” he whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering.
He didn’t know if she could even hear him over the sound of her own gut-wrenching sobs.
“Everything will be all right.” He said it over and over, hoping his voice was an even-keeled reassurance.
He hoped she couldn’t hear the desperate panic he felt.
“They don’t deserve your tears,” he told her, as he’d resorted to rambling.
Anything to get her to stop feeling this way.
“They’re horrible. Awful people, Della. To treat you this way. I can’t even imagine.”
Andrew shook his head, and they were so close that his chin brushed her hair.
He gave in to temptation and pressed a light kiss there, right at the crown of her head.
He stayed there for long moments, savoring the feel of her hair on his lips.
Eventually, he found the strength to shift back, to allow space for air between them.
“I do feel badly for their household. It must be hell to have an employer like that, so bitter and vile. I wish that your brother had been there, but he’s probably drunk in a gutter somewhere.
Or sleeping, getting his rest in preparation for being drunk in a gutter somewhere.
” He’d really run out of words by this point, but she was still crying in his arms, so he knew he had to come up with something.
“You know, it was quite impolite not to offer us tea, even if we were barging in unannounced and exposing their sordid dealings. Some common decency would be nice. And did you see what your mother was wearing? I cannot decide what’s more garish, her gown or the furniture. ”
At that, Della silenced, except for an unladylike sniffle.
Her hands fell from her face, and they landed in his lap.
Andrew was not going to think about that.
She leaned back a bit, resting against his arm.
His thumb brushed away a stray curl at the side of her face.
He could see her eyes now. They were swollen and rimmed in red, two pathways of tears streaking down over her delicate features.
She laughed. He was so surprised he almost let go of her entirely.
He almost fell into the floor of the carriage, he was so taken aback.
Her laughter was as loud as her sobs had been, but he liked this reaction so much more.
The noise made his heart feel lighter, when it had been pounding so viciously against his breastbone.
Though the tears had been so unsettling, Andrew didn’t particularly know how to react to this sudden, hysterical laughter either.
“You are right,” she giggled. “She was dressed like the finest lady of the traveling circus.”
Andrew laughed then, too. His chuckle was one of relief, now that he’d seen some color come back into her face.
He realized abruptly that they were still sitting improperly close.
Her hand still rested on his knee, his on the side of her neck.
It was shockingly inappropriate, but he couldn’t make himself pull away.
He wouldn’t, unless she wanted him to. Right now, he didn’t think she did.
Della’s eyes had softened into something like longing if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Thank you,” she said. She reached for his hand and squeezed it with hers. “Thank you for doing all of this, for standing up for me.” Her voice broke again. “For protecting me.”
“Of course,” he said. Of course he’d protect her. He’d be there, standing up at her side for as long as she’d let him. He’d never been able to tell her that, though. He’d never been given the chance.
They sat in silence for a moment, only the sounds of the horses between them.
Della rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, and Andrew closed his eyes.
That way, he could pretend they were somewhere else.
They were in his carriage on their way home, as they were now, but in his mind, she would stay.
In his mind, they’d gone out shopping or to the theatre.
Perhaps they’d gone to get ice cream. Della loved ice cream.
She’d climb out of the coach with his assistance, and they’d walk into their home hand in hand. He would—
“What do we do now?” Della asked, interrupting his fantasy. He opened his eyes, and he realized she hadn’t interrupted his daydream after all. From the strands of her frizzed hair to her reddened nose, she was precisely what his fantasy looked like.
“Whatever you’d like, love.” He ran a fingertip down her cheek, brushing over the ends of her still-wet eyelashes. “Well,” he tilted his head, considering his words carefully, “I had thought to say the world is yours. I suppose that isn’t exactly true. The world may not be yours, but Kinloss is.”
“It’s all quite hard to believe,” she sighed, the movement of her breath drawing his attention to the long line of her throat.
“So,” he asked, “what would you like to do?”
She was silent for another moment, staring at the unoccupied other side of the carriage.
They hit a bump in the road, and she was jolted out of her seat.
She hiccupped, then laughed at herself. She shifted her position as she settled, taking weight off of one hip and putting it on the other.
He noticed the expression on her face, as if she’d just realized how much pain she was in.
Like the rush of it all had settled, leaving her aching.
“I think I’d like a nap,” she said, grinning at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed a nap so desperately, in fact.”
*
When Della awoke from quite possibly the most refreshing nap of her life, it was to the smell of dinner.
She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that smell was, but it was glorious.
She re-dressed in her lavender day gown, which she knew was both out of fashion and indicative of half mourning.
She felt as if she were in mourning, anyway.
She’d lost the entirety of her family today.
As she stepped out of the room she’d been sharing with Clara, she heard voices and laughter.
Clara’s laugh, she could pinpoint. She thought she heard Harry as well.
The other feminine voice must be Alice, then.
When she and Andrew had returned to his home, it was to an eerie silence.
There was no one else to be found, and Della had thought she ought to be worried about that.
She should’ve been concerned for Clara and Harry’s safety, as they could’ve been lost on the streets of London for all she knew.
She couldn’t concern herself then. She was just so tired.
Exhaustion had dragged at her limbs, and it was all she could do to change into her nightgown before she fell into bed.
Della stood in the corridor for a moment, appreciating that noise. After the disaster with her family, she’d feared the painful silence she’d returned to would be her new normal. Perhaps her only companion.
She gravitated to the sound, her feet taking her farther down the corridor.
As she walked, she tried to assess how she felt.
Fatigue still weighed on her, but her heart felt a bit easier to carry around in her chest. Her knees ached, and that hip was still bothering her.
She knew it simply always would. Overall, despite such an intense day, she was doing rather well.
“Della!” Clara spotted her as she walked into the front room, and she nearly attacked her in an overly secure hug.
She welcomed both the exuberance and the tight embrace.
Things would never be silent for her, Della realized.
Not with Clara around. “Oh, I am sorry,” Clara backed abruptly away, dropping her arms and settling into a dramatic curtsy.
“I meant the Right Honorable Lady Kinloss.”
“Stop that,” Della rolled her eyes, and she swatted in Clara’s general direction. “Nonsense. All of it.”