The swirl of doubts and hopes and hesitations rose in her again, inchoate, impossible to voice. “I want to believe you,” she whispered. “But I’m so frightened.”
His handsome face softened in such a way that she wanted to climb into his arms and never leave. “Oh, lass. Of what?”
“Of becoming who I was before. I loved Trewlnany, Adam. I loved him the way only a girl can love. And after everything that happened, I swore to myself I would never ever feel that way again. And I’ve kept my word. I’ve made sure that any time I felt so much as the faintest trace of fondness for someone, I cut them out of my life or drove them away. I’m very good at it.”
He chuckled ruefully. “Oh, I think I believe you on that score, Miss Arden.”
His quip made her feel a little better. But he said nothing more, waiting for her to tell him more.
“I had very nearly convinced myself that you were different, or maybe that I was, when you told me of your ties with Pendrake. And it . . . Do you recall when you told me of your father’s drinking, and said you couldn’t bear to be around spirits because it brought everything back? Well, that’s how I felt, I suppose. Like it brought that terrible time right back. Asking a man to choose me over his own interests. Fearing that he won’t.”
Adam’s eyes were boundless pools of sympathy. “Lass,” he whispered.
His kindness broke something open in her. Suddenly, she had the words. “I thought if I could only ignore those birds and posters, if I could simply resist the urge to be hurt by them and write my book, I’d finally get justice. Even if that justice was just exposure, even if it was only embarrassment, it would make them see that they could not simply get away with it. That there was a larger morality outside their power. But when I learned of your ties to Pendrake, his influence over you—it made me feel like a fool. After everything, he could still hurt me. He and Jonathan had already taken so much, and now they were back just when I thought I had my vindication, taking you.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, or snatch her up into his arms, but she needed to say all of it, all the things she’d scarcely admitted to herself.
“And then today, Adam, I was certain I would miscarry. And I have tried very hard not to think about my daughter since I lost her but . . . I can’t stand the fear that it might happen again. I can’t want something and know it will be taken from me. It’s too much like . . . before.”
She felt childish and weepy and she squirmed in her chair, dying to get up and pace the room. But she stayed still. It seemed important to endure this conversation.
Because somehow, despite making her feel worse, it was also making her feel better.
Adam came and knelt beside her chair. Slowly, like he was leaving time for her to tell him not to, he threaded his arms around her waist. “I’m scared, too. But whatever happens, I am here for you. I’ll share it with you. If you’ll let me take some of the burden.”
Perhaps what he meant is that the pain would ease if it was shared between them. The way she already felt better, leaning against his heat, breathing in his woody smell. She could believe that it might be so, when he touched her. But what of the larger world outside this room?
“But how can we, Adam? You have your family, and I am not accustomed to sharing my life with anyone, besides my friends. I wouldn’t know how to begin.”
He smoothed back her hair. “I suppose we will just have to try, and find our way.”
Try. That word again. Could she?
She closed her eyes and imagined going home knowing she had severed her connection to this man. She thought of the words he’d said to her before: I am reduced by the loss of you. She felt the truth of them keenly. She wanted to be with him the way she wanted all her limbs.
“I would like to try,” she said. “But I can’t promise I am capable. You would have to teach me how.”
A smile curled slowly across his features. He let out a breath. “I would be honored.”
He paused, his face suddenly going tense. “But there is a complication, Sera. I have to go back to Cornwall. Tregereth has made changes to his plans, and I need to make them in order to get the fee, which I must, as Mayhew will be after me for money. I’ll likely need to be there for at least a month.”
“Oh. I see.” Already, the grand sentiment was tarnished by the finer details.
“I know it’s a difficult place for you, but if you came with me, we might have some time to be together. To try.”
She did not know what to say. On the one hand, it could be lovely to be with Adam outside of the pressures of London, where they could see each other daily without traveling back and forth across the city.
On the other hand, she was not exactly the type to abandon her work in favor of experimenting with domestic bliss.
And if Pendrake and Trewlnany caught wind, would they persecute her and Adam both? And should it matter if they did? She owned her house and land, after all, and had every right to return. For all the painful memories there, it was also the place of her childhood. The place where she’d met Adam.
And lost him.
What if she risked it, and it was a failure? What if she came back more unhappy than before?
She didn’t know the right answer.
“May I think about it?” she asked Adam.
He smiled. “Of course. I want you any way I can have you, Sera. Wherever suits you. As much as you wish to give me. Take all the time you need.”
“Sweet man.” She leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek.
And then, before she could help it, she yawned. She was so tired she felt like she might fall asleep in this chair. “It’s late. I should leave you.”
“Can I steal a good-night kiss?”
She smiled. “You needn’t steal it.”
He embraced her again, and his lips fell softly on hers. It was a sweet kiss, almost chaste, but once again she had that feeling.
You. More.
In his arms, fine details didn’t seem so complicated. In his arms, she wanted to believe that they might find their way.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
She did not return the words.
But she weighed what it might be like to say them back.
I love you, too? I love you? I love you.
I love you.
She kissed his cheek. “Good night.”
Adam did not sleep. As soon as Seraphina left, he bundled up his papers and went to the studio. He worked feverishly, putting all the pieces of his plan together, preparing it for Mayhew.
He heard his brother-in-law walking up the stairs at half past eight.
He held himself stiff, feeling like they were strangers after their interaction outside of Willow’s bookshop.
And yet, they weren’t strangers.
Mayhew looked same as always, impeccably dressed with bouncing steps, exuding the scent of his expensive shaving oil. He took in the sight of Adam’s loose white shirt and unshaven face and scoffed, same as he might on any morning. “Good Christ, Anderson. You look like a grave-digger.”
For all Adam’s anger at Mayhew, he had to smile. Mayhew, ever piquant-tongued, had been taking issue with Adam’s lack of elegance since before they could read.
“You look distinguished enough for the both of us.”