No, it required people. She nodded with certainty. A family again living beneath this roof breathing life back into the place.
She smiled, seeing herself and those faceless children she had yet to meet. Her smile slipped as she attempted to envision William among them, with them. His features were a bit hazy in her imaginings. Indeed, he was rather faceless as he lifted one of those children up into his arms, which didn’t make sense. She’d known William all her life. His face was more familiar than her own. She should be able to see him very clearly in this particular daydream.
“Are you feeling better now?”
She whirled around with a gasp at the question spoken behind her, her hand flying to her throat.
Kingston stood in the doorway, limned brilliantly in the sunlight, coatless, cravat loosened at his throat. The handsome sight of the bare skin there gave her a bit of a jolt. His lack of attire might have looked unkempt on another man, but he merely looked casual and breezy and achingly handsome.
She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. Apparently her departure from Haverston Hall had not gone unnoticed. Had he followed her?
“Yes, thank you. I don’t know what happened. It was a spell of some kind, I suppose. I must have been laced too tightly in my corset.”
“You must have been,” he agreed, his gaze rather vague, as though he did not entirely believe in his agreement. “I’m glad you’re doing much better.”
“Thank you for acting so quickly.” She let loose a nervous little laugh.
“Even if you did send Mrs. Hansen into a fit when you ripped the dress.”
“Did I rip it? I had not noticed.”
She released another little laugh. “You tore the buttons off.”
His bourbon-colored eyes glinted at her and she knew he was remembering another time buttons had been lost—only she had been the person doing the ripping then.
He shrugged. “You couldn’t breathe. A silly dress was hardly of concern to me. You were my priority.”
You were my priority.
She did not think anyone had said such a thing to her before. Indeed, her sisters and brother loved her as they ought to do, as family loved family.
But she did not think any individual, outside of her kin, considered her a priority. Not even William, and that was a disheartening thought. She imagined he would . . . once they were married. Once she was his wife. An uncomfortable sensation swept over her. A disquieting prickling that ran all over her body.
An awkward silence rose up between them.
She wished she hadn’t mentioned the silly dress. She didn’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it.
He stepped fully into the foyer as though she had invited him to do so, as though the matter of the two of them being alone here was of no concern or threat to propriety.
She eyed his lean figure, summoning the words that would demand his departure, but they did not come.
Craning his neck, he peered about them. “So you lived here? This was the dwelling of the infamous Langley sisters?” A devilish smile played about his lips.
She was not certain if he’d been informed of that fact or he simply had inferred it.
“Yes. Up until a year ago.”
“Very nice.” He nodded, looking around. Even vacant with only a few rudimentary items of furniture, the happy spirit of the Langley family remained, clinging about the place, humming on the air. She felt it and, staring at his thoughtful expression as he surveyed, she suspected he felt it, too.
She moved deeper into the house, pushing open the double doors to the drawing room.
“I’d offer you tea, but the house is not outfitted.”
They shouldn’t even be here together. It was improper. The kind of thing that could end a reputation. Her reputation. And yet the circumstance of finding herself here with him seemed redundant after all that had transpired between them.
They’d been alone together several times now, and every time inappropriateness had abounded. This time she would like to prove, if only to herself, that they could behave and comport themselves appropriately when the opportunity for mischief was present.
She moved to the drapes and dragged them open, revealing through the mullion-paned glass the riot of wildflowers that Mama had planted so long ago. Every year they returned without fail.
“Well, that’s a lovely view,” he commented, walking up beside her and staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
She held herself still, trying not to feel him beside her—trying not to notice the way his body radiated warmth and something else . . . an energy that pulled at her.
“My mother planted those and they still thrive. It’s like a part of her is still here every year I see them bloom.”
He nodded. “I suppose she is then.” He glanced out through the glass at the myriad flowers in full bloom. “I’m sure that gives you comfort.”
“My sisters and I would sequester ourselves there and weave coronets of grass and flowers for our heads.” She smiled fondly at the recollection. “We had happy times here,” she volunteered. “Even after we lost Mama, Papa kept us occupied with our studies and hobbies. Our lives were full.” She smoothed a hand along the papered drawing room wall. “There was a lot of laughter in these walls.”
“You were very fortunate, indeed, to have such an upbringing.”
She smiled and shoved off her sudden overwhelming sense of nostalgia. He didn’t need to see her so maudlin. She was no Gothic heroine under the dark cloud of pervasive threat. Indeed not.
Charlotte lived in a grand house and was preparing for the finest wedding the shire had ever seen. She lived a life of comfort and privilege and had a doting betrothed.
With a smile fixed to her face, she inquired, “Is there someplace like that for you? Where you grew up?”
“I was sent to school at age four. Our instructors were not the sort to encourage frolicking in wildflowers.”
“Four? Is that not very young?”
“I imagine it is. Childhood goes to die in places like that.”
She shuddered. “Sounds awful. Will you send your children away to school so young then?”
He hesitated. “I don’t imagine I will ever have children.”
She angled her head thoughtfully. “Why not?”
“I don’t anticipate marrying, and although I was born outside of wedlock, illegitimacy is not something I’d wish on any child.” His face grew tight as though he was somewhere else right then, lost in some memory.
“My brother is away at school,” she volunteered, hoping to lighten the mood and distract him from somber thoughts.
“You have a brother as well?”
“Yes. But he did not go away until he was twelve.” She laced her fingers, twisting them together slightly. “We had many good years with him.”
He smiled. “A proper age for a young man to be sent to school.” His gaze dropped to her fingers and she forced them to stillness.
“He seems to enjoy it from all his letters. And he visits at every holiday. Each time we see him he’s grown another half foot.”
“That’s the way with lads. They grow like weeds until suddenly they are lads no more.”
She drifted through the room until she sank down on the settee. It appeared the thing to do as they were having a normal conversation with no buttons flying.