She laughed again, blushing furiously, fidgeting with the corners of her treasured pages to try and remove some of her discomfort. “If you think that, I am sorry to tell you that you do not know your wife at all. I have never been any of those things.”
“Since I have known you, you have,” he argued. “I do not flatter to deceive, Teresa. I do not flatter at all. This is not some false compliment, but the truth. The womanIhave seen, thatIhave come to know a little bit, is all of those things and more.”
She shifted on the mattress, burning from top to toe with something that felt like embarrassment, but had none of the hallmarks. It was more akin to… pride or gratitude; a feeling so overwhelming in its warmth that she wanted to run from the bed to her chambers to escape it.
He has no reason to lie, but… how can he think of me as such an accomplished woman?
“There was a reason that your friend had me placed at the bottom of that wretched list,” she said quietly, deep in the midst of her thoughts. “Those cruel things he said about me—they angered me because they were true.”
Cyrus shook his head. “I do not believe that.”
“I am… different when I am with those who are dear to me,” she continued unevenly, treading upon difficult ground. “But what your friend said was true in relation to who I was—who I am—in society. I am afraid I am something of a social tortoise: I withdraw in company.”
“You conducted yourself impeccably at Anthony’s ball,” he pointed out, reminding her of a fact that still confounded her.
Shehadbeen social at that ball, greeting everyone, thanking everyone for their well wishes, making the occasional joke to make the others laugh.
And I danced, when I never dance!
Even now, she could not explain what had come over her, to make her handle that evening so well.
“That night was a blur,” she murmured. “I suspect it had more to do with the gown than my character.”
He gave the faintest chuckle. “Then remind me to buy you all the gowns I can, so that society may see what I have been granted the privilege of seeing. You do not need to be like Miss Johnson. You are… entirely right as you are.” He hesitated. “Entirely beautiful, within and without.”
Teresa fumbled with the pages, her face so hot she worried she might combust. How was she supposed to respond to that? How was she supposed to restrain her expectations when he said something like that? It was not a tiptoe toward being closer but a vast leap, and she was not at all ready for it… especially not if it was something she was just misinterpreting.
Perhaps, he just feels sorry for me.
“Evidently, you are still half asleep,” she mumbled, her throat scratchy. “Now, I am going to read to you, and I do not want to be interrupted, or I may lose my nerve.”
Beside her, he shrugged and said nothing.
With a shaky breath, Teresa began the tense tale of Miss Savage’s brush with a watery death.
Cyrus wondered if he would ever hear the full chapter, as he carefully removed the pages from Teresa’s limp hand and set them on the bedside table. The temptation to read the rest lingered for a moment, but he decided against it; he would leave it up to her to choose if she would ever regale him with the remainder.
She had fallen asleep just as the whale had cracked open the hull and let a flood of icy ocean into the ship, Miss Savage swimming out of the hole while the Captain ran to the deck and jumped in after her.
She does not know how beautiful she is.He gazed at Teresa as she slumbered, her body tilting slowly to the side, without his body there to stop it.
It would be a soft fall, but he did not want her to fall at all. Before he could prevent himself, he had her in his arms, lifting her gently from his bed. She did not stir, though her eyelids fluttered a little and her mouth moved as if trying to say something.
Satisfied that she would not awaken, Cyrus carried her out of the room and down the hallway to her own chambers. The door was already open, and he wielded her across the threshold, a performance of the wedding night they had never had.
At her bed, the covers thrown to the end, he lay her down upon her mattress and lightly brushed a lock of hair out of her face so it would not irritate her in her sleep. That done, he covered her with the bedlinens, and perched on the edge of her bed for a moment, just watching the woman who had inexplicably become his wife.
“Youareeverything you do not seem to believe you are,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
Her brow was warm and smooth against his lips, and as he drew back, he wished she might have awoken, so he could kiss her properly instead.
So, it was perhaps for the best that she did not.
“Sleep well,” he murmured, leaving her to her solitary rest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“How did I… um… end up back in my own chambers last night?” Teresa asked the following morning where she was, indeed, joined by her husband at the breakfast table.
