Secrets of Sloane House(100)

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and rested his palm on her back. When he felt her muscles loosen, he gently rubbed the line of tension between her shoulder blades. “If it’s any consolation, one day you will know that the truth was only discovered because of you,” he murmured.

“Perhaps one day I will be glad I discovered what really happened to her.” She rested against his hand for a moment before straightening abruptly. “I’m wondering if my parents are ever going to be pleased about my discovering the truth, having to accept that Miranda is dead.”

“But that’s why they sent you here,” he pointed out. “You cannot help that the truth wasn’t what they hoped to hear.”

“They sent me here with grand dreams. For some reason, my parents imagined that I would be able to single-handedly find Miranda, wrestle her from whatever situation she was in, and bring her straight home.” Clenching her hands into fists, she whispered, “For a time, I actually thought that was possible. Now I realize it was all a pipe dream.” She stood up, turned away to gaze out the window.

It would be so easy to stay where he was. To remind himself that nothing was between them. Not really. Instead, he crossed the room and curved his hands around her slim shoulders. Hoping to remind her that she wasn’t alone. “You tried your best. And what you did accomplish was noteworthy. Your family will be proud of you.”

She didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge his touch. “I doubt that. When I return and tell them everything, all we’ll have left is our reality. All their hopes will be shattered.”

“But you will have the truth. That is something.”

“Yes, though it’s sometimes easier to live with denial.”

Thinking about his dreams of making his parents proud by marrying a woman of elevated circumstances, about his decision to continually ignore his qualms about Douglass’s behavior out of a misguided feeling of obligation, made him nod. “I suppose that is true.”

He’d put up so many boundaries where the two of them were concerned. He’d pretended her social station mattered, though his wasn’t all that exceptional.

He’d pretended they were too different, because he’d had so many opportunities in his life while she’d had far too few.

And he’d tried to refute his attraction to her by imagining that her looks weren’t as polished as any young debutante’s. Or that he shouldn’t be noticing that a young maid in a misshapen uniform could stir him as much as an expensively clothed girl in silk.

Hmm. It turned out that he, too, hadn’t been all that ready to accept the truth.

He knew he had two choices now. He could concentrate on the truth and a future he wanted, or he could continue to pretend to want things that would never be.

Put that way? He had only one choice.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered into the nape of her neck.

She swayed a bit, leaning into his touch. Or maybe it was his words? “I can’t leave, remember? I promised the police I wouldn’t leave the city until they said I could.”

Had she misunderstood him? Or was she merely choosing to pretend she did?

He parted his lips, ready to explain himself, ready to at last kiss her neck, to pull her closer . . . when a burst of insight helped him see things more clearly.

He needed to go slowly.

She’d just been told her sister had been murdered. His own father was upstairs dying. Perhaps now was not the best time to declare his feelings.

But—just perhaps—he could hint at things a bit?

He ran his fingertips down her arms.

“Rosalind, if you weren’t here, I would miss you.”

She trembled under his touch, but she did not turn to face him. “I can’t imagine why. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

“That isn’t true. You’ve brought me something very special.”

“And what was that?”

“A new belief in myself. Hope for the future. If you go, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want you to go.” He swallowed, then made himself think of her needs. “Unless . . . unless you want to leave me.”

After the span of a heartbeat, she sighed. “I would miss you too. I hate to admit it out loud, Reid. But I would miss you too.”

He could no longer resist the temptation. He brushed his lips against the nape of her neck. Leaned closer, kissed her jawline. She sighed.

“You know what?” she said. “God is so very good, don’t you think? Here, even in the darkest hours, he gives us light. Here, my sister was murdered and your father is dying. I’m out of a job, and you have lost someone you once thought to be a good friend. Even in times like this, we’ve found each other. He reminds us that we cannot completely give in to despair.”