Matilda stared at the building, speechless.
“I’ve asked the gardener to spare some time for you, too,” he continued. “Tell me when you’d like to meet with him, and I’ll arrange it. He’s already in the midst of preparing that corner of the garden you had your eye on, turning the soil and whatnot.”
Matilda pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the thud of her heartbeat to remind herself that this was not a dream. “You did this for me?”
“For your writing,” he replied, ushering her toward the glass doors of the summer house.
It was like her very own, miniature botanical gardens. Everywhere she looked, large pots spilled over with exotic plants and resplendent, tropical flowers that had no business being in England, and the air was humid but not unpleasantly so. Peering up, she realized why—a large portion of the central part of the roof was also glass, shining the most gorgeous light down into the summer house.
Three writing desks had been set up throughout the building, and there was a seating area with a chaise-longue and an armchair. There were standing bookshelves filled with tomes and a healthy supply of paper, ink, and quills that made her own, clasped in her arms, feel unnecessary.
Giddiness bubbled through her, so effervescent and overwhelming that before she knew what she was doing, she had set her papers and ink down and thrown her arms around Albion.
She hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she gasped. “My goodness, thank you! I have never dreamed of a study so… so… idyllic!”
His arms encircled her, holding her in return. “It’s my pleasure. I’m relieved you like it.”
“Like it?” She pulled back, wide-eyed. “Are you quite serious? There are writers and academics who would kill for a place to write like this! It is… it is… I cannot even think of what it is; I am so in awe of it! It is so glorious that it has robbed me of clear thought!”
He gazed at her, one hand pressed against the small of her back while the other came up to touch her neck. A shivering graze as he brushed back a lock of hair that was not there; it was merely a ruse. His hand stayed there, cradling the side of her neck, his thumb lightly caressing the line of her jaw, edging up to her lower lip.
He is going to kiss me again…She needed no research documents or thorough investigation to understand that, nor did she need to be a professor of romance and marriage to reach the conclusion that struck her by instinct alone: shewantedhim to kiss her again. Had wanted to kiss him again since the first time. Indeed, had things not occurred as Albion said they had, with her falling asleep in the carriage on the way back from the ball, under the influence, perhapsshemight have been the one to act first and kiss him again.
This time, however, they would not be able to hold relief responsible. There would be no excuse for this, other than them both wanting to repeat the experience.
He dipped his head, and she tilted hers up, her arms tightening around him, encouraging him.
His mouth was a whisper away from fulfilling her hopes when the glass doors squealed open, and someone gasped in alarm.
“Apologies! I did not realize I was intruding,” a male voice said, fraught with discomfort.
Matilda released her hold on Albion, but he seemed less willing to pull away as he turned to look at whoever had interrupted. It was the fair-haired, bespectacled new valet who had joined the rest of the staff on the journey back from London though she remembered very little of that.
“Am I early?” the valet asked, averting his eyes in an almost comical fashion.
Albion finally took a step away from Matilda, letting her go. “No, it’s me who forgot the time.” He glanced at Matilda. “This is Mr. Algernon. I’ve instructed him to assist you in anything you might need as I don’t have much to occupy him with, at present.”
“Is that appropriate?” Matilda frowned at her husband, who shrugged.
“You’re asking the wrong person.” He headed for the doors. “Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll be in my study if you need me.”
He could not have left more quickly though he did not depart without casting a strange look back at his wife—a lingering, longing look that reignited the giddiness in her for a moment. He was leaving, but she would be on his mind for a while; she could see that.
And, perhaps, his departure was for the best, for if they had not been interrupted, she had a feeling that they might have kissed one another all afternoon with no one and nothing to stop them falling deeper into the dangerous, unknown territory of actually developing feelings for each other.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
“This must be heaven,” Matilda sighed.
She waded deeper into the golden-hued water, as far as she dared, reveling in the sensation of being surrounded by the cool sea. The day had been furiously hot, and even with all of the summer house doors open, she had been sweltering by the time she raised her head from the pages and pages of writing she had managed to achieve.
In dire need of something to slough away the heat of the day, the sea had called to her. So, she had followed its Siren song, closing up the summer house and venturing to the beach—the perfect sojourn before dinner, accompanied by the most exquisite sunset.
Of course, part of her had hoped she might find Albion there though she knew it was not possible; he was cooped up in his study, not to be disturbed. She would have asked the valet to disturb him on her behalf, but she had dismissed Mr. Algernon hours ago, and she had not wanted to waste the beautiful early evening by hunting through the manor for him.
I will ask Albion to join me tomorrow,she had decided. We can swim at sunrise and sunset while the weather is this extraordinary, and if there is no one to interrupt us, perhaps we might kiss again… at last. Excitement crackled through her at the very thought, for their moment in the summer house had shifted something between them. She did not know what, exactly, and would not know until she explored it further, like any good student with a hunger for understanding.
“One dip then I will go back,” she told herself sternly, eyes flitting up to the clifftops to make sure she was alone.
