That seemed an imprudent idea. If he sat beside her today, she wasn’t sure how she’d keep from falling straight into his arms.
“I believe I’d rather walk,” she said, standing. “If you don’t mind.”
He offered his arm, and Eliza accepted it. When she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, he flexed his arm and drew her close. In years past, she would have thought it just another example of his impropriety. But today, the warmth and strength of his body were a welcome comfort. He seemed to know she needed support. She leaned into him, grateful.
His scent was a balm to her discomfited soul—that subtle, manly blend of bergamot and leather. She inhaled deeply, breathing him in.
Together, they left the walled garden and set out on a path across the park.
“It’s remarkable to see you here.”
“I must admit,” he said, “this isn’t how I’d pictured our next meeting. I had visions of you drifting through a ballroom, wearing pink or yellow silk. Bright as a summer blossom, with all the young gentlemen buzzing about you like bees.”
She smiled. “Only the young gentlemen?”
Eliza instantly regretted her words. Their house was in mourning, and it wasn’t the time to tease, or joke, or laugh, or smile.
But he didn’t chide her. He chuckled, in that dry way he had. “Perhaps a few of the ancient ones, too.”
They shared a brief, meaningful glance. There was so much power in that unspoken connection, she couldn’t bear it for long. She looked away, a coward in the face of her own emotions.
“It’s a beastly thing,” he said. “This tragedy with Lessing.”
“It’s unbearable. To think, he’d survived all those battles, only for the ship to sink on his way home…? So cruel.”
He swore violently, the way men were permitted to do. “When I saw his name listed in the papers, I went straightaway to your family’s house in London. But you’d already left Town.”
She nodded. “William’s family is here. There’s no body, of course, but they’re placing a monument in their family churchyard. Poor Georgie is beside herself with grief. They’d only been betrothed a few months, but they’d been in love for years. I don’t know how she’ll survive this.”
“With your help,” he answered. “You’ll be strong for her.”
Who will be strong for me? she wondered. And then she berated herself for harboring such a childish thought.
They reached a dense copse of sycamore trees. A little closet of shade in the midst of green parkland, grown up around an unused well. Eliza slowed, wanting to tarry there in the cool, intimate stillness.
“It’s good of you to come pay your respects,” she said.
He tipped her chin with a single finger, demanding her close attention. “Now, listen. I know Lessing was a decent fellow, and I’m sorry as hell that your sister must experience this sorrow. But understand this. I didn’t travel all this way from London to pay my respects. I came for you. Only you. Because you’ve suffered a loss, as well.”
“What loss?”
“Eliza, you don’t have to pretend with me. You’re missing your long-awaited season. That glittering debut.”
She bristled and pulled away. “Mr. Wright, I know you’ve held a low opinion of me. But I thought we understood each other now. If you think for one moment that I could be so selfish as to mourn a few new gowns and dances while my sister is grieving for the love of her life—”
She broke off in tears. How could he think such a thing of her?
He knew her so well. Too well. And if he believed this of her, she was afraid he might be right. She was devastated for Georgie. But beneath it all, she couldn’t stop feeling occasional pangs of stupid, selfish pity for herself.
Here she was—out in the garden, breathing in the fresh air and basking in the sunshine. Meanwhile, somewhere inside, her sister cried herself dry. What was wrong with her?
“It’s all right, darling.” He took her by the arms.
She fought him feebly, but he pulled her close anyway, drawing her into a tight, protective embrace.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair as she wept. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
“I’m a horrid person,” she murmured into his lapel.
“No, love. No. If it were merely gowns and dances you were sobbing over, perhaps you might be a horrid person. But it’s not that. You could go back to London and have your grand debut next year, but it wouldn’t be the same. Not now that you’ve been so close to Georgie’s sorrow. You’ve seen that all the joy and beauty of the world is fragile. Just bright daubs of paint on the surface of an eggshell. Now you’ll reach for it more cautiously. No more wild grasps at glory. It’s that innocence you’re mourning.”
He pulled back and looked down at her. “It’s a loss. A grave one.” He smoothed the hair from her face. “I’m here to grieve with you. I’ve been waiting years to watch Miss Eliza Cade take London by storm. Now I’ll never have the pleasure.”
“Were you going to come to my ball?”