Secrets of Sloane House(103)
CHAPTER 37
To her surprise, they took his family’s big carriage, not the smaller one he usually used. He sat in the seat next to her while Charley drove them.
Never before had they been alone in the enclosed space. She was aware of everything, the way the ends of his brown hair curled at the edges, the way her sapphire-blue dress brushed against his suit.
Even his scent drew her notice. He smelled of soap and pine and horses, as if he’d gone to their carriage house for a bit before greeting her.
Closing her eyes briefly, she hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t forget a second of their last few minutes together. She knew she’d hold these memories tight to her heart for the rest of her life.
He seemed to notice her expression. “Everything all right?”
“Oh. Yes.” There was no reason to lie. “I was simply trying to make this moment last. It’s a good memory.”
His gaze drifted over her face, as if he, too, was hoping to imprint each last second they had together in his brain. “Because you’re finally returning to your family?”
Did she dare tell him that it was much more than that? “Partly,” she allowed.
There was traffic on the street. Through the windows, which were cracked open, they heard Charley yell at a pair of boys running through the street and greet the driver of a lumbering milk wagon. The carriage lurched, then darted forward in a rush.
Rosalind gripped the seat and laughed. What used to feel so foreign and scary now felt almost exciting.
Reid winked. “Before you know it, all the sights and sounds of Chicago will be a distant memory.”
That was what she was afraid of. “I hope not a memory for too long. I want to come back here one day.”
“I hope that happens.”
“I do too.” She took a chance and met his gaze, thought about being completely honest with him, then remembered her place. Forcing her voice to brighten a bit, she added, “I’m going to miss many things here.”
A new, bright interest filled his gaze. “What are you going to miss?”
You.
“The farmer’s market. The grip cars.”
You.
“Is that all?”
“Oh no.” She tried to giggle, though the noise came off sounding a bit like a braying mule. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss the noise of the trains. The flower sellers, the newsboys.”
“Anything else?”
You.
“All the people.” And because his gaze was so intent, she added quickly, “And the fair, of course.”
“Of course.” Leaning a bit closer, he picked up her hand. Rubbed a thumb along her knuckles. “Will you miss anything else? Anyone else?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I’m going to miss Eloisa. And your mother. And even most of the servants at Sloane House.”
“You’ll even miss them? In spite of everything that’s happened?”
“In spite of everything, I’ve learned that most people will go out of their way to help others. Even a coarse country girl like myself.”
He shook his head. “That’s never been you. You’ve been a pleasure to get to know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Armstrong.”
“You call me Reid now, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” No, she hadn’t forgotten a thing.
The carriage was moving steadily down the street now. In no time, Rosalind realized, they would be at the train station. And their relationship would be at an end.
She changed her mind. It was time to thank him properly. There was no way she was going to leave him without being honest. She owed it to him.
But even more importantly, she owed it to herself.
“Reid, before I leave, I wanted to be sure I said something.”
“What is that?”
“I—I wanted to let you know that while I will miss so many things about Chicago, and I will always remember the many friendships I’ve made, I will miss you most of all.” She felt her face flame, but she held his gaze steadily.
His body stilled. “Why is that?”
Her words were forward. Not at all in keeping with their relationship. Not at all in keeping with the things her mother had taught her, for that matter. But perhaps her mother and society had never imagined the things she and Reid would go through together.
Taking a deep breath, she began. “From the first time I met you, you’ve always made it seem like I was more to you than a mere maid at Sloane House. You made me feel like I was a real person. Like I was Rosalind.”
“You were real to me.” He rubbed her knuckle again. “Rosalind, from the first moment I saw you standing in the hallway of Sloane House, I knew I’d never forget you.”