Page 41 of When She Was a Governess
Might you love me just a little?
The vulnerability in her voice when she’d asked that question. The tears she’d tried to hide. The way she’d accepted his non-answer with grace, saying she’d take what she could get. All of it made him feel a little sick. With guilt mostly.
And then, to hear her say:I have taken scraps my whole life. I shall take what I can get.
How those words had cut him. What kind of man offered a woman like Sophia Ashford scraps? She was right. That is what she’d been given all her life, but that didn’t make it right. Could he reach inside himself and find the strength to love her? To risk a broken heart? To let go of Eleanor, for once and for all?
He had not lied to her. She did make him want to try. She made him yearn to be better. To be the husband and father she and Amelia so clearly needed. This wallowing, this hiding away from attachments had to stop. If not for him, then for her. For Amelia.
Sophia entered wearing a dress he had not yet seen, a lavender silk that brought out the color of her eyes. Mrs. Bromley had arranged her hair in an elegant swept-up style with curls framing her face to show the graceful line of her neck. Thecandlelight caught the sheen of the fabric and the curve of her slender shoulders above the modest neckline.
His knees felt weak, taking in this beautiful creature before him. And soon, she would be his wife. The woman would share his name, his home, his life. She would sleep in the room adjoining his, separated only by a connecting door. The thought sent heat through him that had nothing to do with the fire in the hearth.
“Please, sit.” He held out her chair.
“Thank you.” She settled into her seat, not quite meeting his eyes.
After the footmen had served the first course, a white soup that smelled of cream and rosemary, Henry asked them to leave him alone with Sophia. After they were gone, he fixed his gaze upon his dinner companion.
“I have been thinking about our conversation earlier,” Henry said. “And it occurred to me that I might not have been clear about a few things. What I need you to know—please—you are not the reason for my reticence. You should not expect scraps. Especially not from me. You are kind and compassionate, despite all the ways you’ve been wronged. I cannot imagine a person I admire more than you. It is only that I am broken. But you are not. By some miracle, your heart’s still open. I do not know quite how you have survived intact, after what they did to you. But please, know this—you are lovable. You deserve everything good in this world.”
She sat straight in her chair, chin lifted. Strong. So much stronger than Eleanor had been. “It is all right, Henry. You needn’t say more. I understand. Losing Eleanor changed you. Grief changed you. There is no way it cannot. I, of all people, understand that only too well. So, please, do not apologize for who you are. However, I must thank you for your kind words. They mean more than you could possibly know.” She set downher knife and fork to take a sip of her wine. “When you have been told for most of your life that you are worthless—dumb and ugly and lazy, that evil runs through your blood, just like your father’s, it become part of the story you believe about yourself. Thus, when you say you cannot love me, I inevitably think—it is indeed me. That if I were different somehow, you might love me.”
“And that is precisely what you cannot believe. You are a man’s dream. It is only that I cannot fathom how I could possibly take another chance. I am weak, Sophia.”
“That is not the man I see before me.”
“But you do not know how I was. You were not here to see how I fell apart after Eleanor died. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely get out of bed most days. Charlotte and Thomas took turns sitting with me, making sure I didn’t…” He paused. “Making sure I survived.”
“Oh, Henry.”
“I was away for a time. Recovering.” He kept it deliberately vague. “When I finally came back, I was able to do what was needed for the estate. But I have not truly been living.”
“And youwantto live?”
“You make it so.” Henry nearly choked on his words. “I cannot bear for you to think otherwise. Or that you should expect anything but a full meal. No more scraps.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Henry.” She ducked her chin, eyes on her plate. “I chastised myself after you left this afternoon. I am sorry if I’ve made you feel guilty. I knew what this arrangement was when I agreed to it. I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward between us.”
“Do not be sorry. Never be sorry for anything you say to me. I will take you just as you are. We should promise to always tell each other the truth. If our marriage is to be a friendship, as well as an arrangement, it must be so. Do you not agree?”
“I do, yes.”
“You said this afternoon that you did not want to be lonely in your own home. I do not want that either.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sophia asked.
A warmth traveled up the back of his neck and into his ears. What was he suggesting? An image of that adjoining door came to mind once more. Now the tips of his ears burned.
“That you come to me when you need me,” Henry said. “To talk. Or to listen. I will always be here.”
“And I shall do the same for you.”
They locked eyes for a moment. But then a timid footman arrived, asking if it was all right for him to enter.
“Yes, please,” Henry said to him. “Please serve us and leave us alone again.”
“Yes, my lord.” The footman served the second course, a spring lamb with vegetables, and then discreetly made his way out of the room.
