Page 33 of Courting Miss Lancaster
“And why is that?” Did his casual tone sound forced? Harry tried to appear perfectly at ease as he sat in a chair beside her bed.
“Mr. Howard sent me a bouquet,” she answered, the slightest twinkle apparent in her tired eyes.
Harry smiled. “I thought I spotted one that had to be from him.”
Athena managed a slight smile in return. “He is convinced I think of nothing but trees.”
“Mr. Howard does not have the most original mind,” Harry acknowledged, but not unkindly. He set Athena’s violets on the table beside her bed but found he had to clasp his hands together to keep himself from holding her hand.
“Mr. Dalforth warned me to be wary of the gentlemen you introduce me to,” Athena said.
Tension slid instantly through Harry’s body, his jaw tight. “Did he?” Harry managed. “And why is that, do you suppose?” Again, his casual tone rang a little untrue to his ears.
“I think he was teasing me,” Athena answered. Her eyes were slowly opening and closing, as if the effort required to simply blink was proving too much for her. “Because so many of the gentlemen you have presented have been disasters.”
Harry sat silently for a moment. How did he respond to that observation without admitting to more than he wanted her to know?Yes, as a matter of fact, I have purposefully introduced you to the most ridiculous gentlemen I could think of. I hope you don’t mind the fact that I have sabotaged your Season.Somehow he didn’t think she would appreciate that explanation.
“They all sent you flowers, though,” Harry finally settled on. “So, not entirely disastrous.”
“But none of them knew I liked violets,” Athena answered, smiling wearily. “Not even Mr. Dalforth knew that.”
Harry managed not to smile smugly. He hadn’t seen any flowers from Dalforth. The thought was surprisingly satisfying. “He didn’t even send you any tree branches?” Harry chuckled, feeling his spirits improving.
Athena’s smile grew, and Harry couldn’t help his own grin. “Or weeds,” she added. Her laugh ended in a cough. Without thought Harry took hold of her hand, lightly squeezing her fingers until the coughing subsided. “His roses were good enough, I suppose.”
Her continued attempts at humor were reassuring and very endearing. A lady who could laugh despite illness was a woman after his own heart. The moment of sentiment did not last longer than it took his mind to process what Athena had said. Dalforthhadsent flowers. Roses, in fact.
The yellow roses. They were not, then, from the Duke and Duchess of Hartley, as he had assumed. It was a very impressive bouquet. So, he had been shown up by both Rigby and Dalforth. It was his own fault, really. He would have done better not to bring any flowers than to show up with the raggedy, pathetic handful he’d brought.
There were times when being comparatively poor was humiliating. He’d learned young to laugh it off, to joke instead of showing his embarrassment. “I suppose roses will do in a pinch.” Harry shrugged, managing to keep his smile in place. “But the way to any lady’s heart is weeds. Nothing else will do.” He pulled a single sprig of violets from the small bouquet on the table and, letting go of her hand, placed the violets there instead, gently closing her fingers around the flowers.
“I do like violets,” Athena said, raising the sprig slowly to her nose and closing her eyes as she breathed in the aroma. Harry was certain he heard a little sigh of disappointment. “I cannot smell a thing,” she whispered with a tiny ironic laugh.
Harry leaned closer, until he was near enough to whisperalmost into her ear. “They smell like spring in the midst of winter and like hope when life is bleak.”
Athena opened her eyes and looked directly at him. Harry had never known another person with eyes as brilliantly green as hers—even in illness, the color was startling. “I think you like violets as well,” she whispered.
“I love violets,” Harry answered, his eyes locked with hers. His lungs instantly tightened, his heart beating a touch harder. He had never been so close to her before. Even carrying her up the stairs the night before, there had been more distance. The slightest movement forward would eliminate what little space separated them. And in their current relative positions, they would meet lip to lip.
Not a very brotherly thought.
Harry moved stiffly, forcibly back. He leaned against the back of his chair, creating the maximum distance without actually leaving his seat. Leaving would be necessary, he realized. But doing so in a panic would be far too telling for his comfort.
“Violets are lovely.” Athena said the three words so slowly they sounded very much like three separate sentences. Her eyelids slid closed with a heaviness that indicated she was already asleep.
Harry let out a tense breath. He was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it. He struggled more with each encounter to keep his feelings for Athena a secret. Nothing could be gained by giving himself away, but he would lose a great deal if he did. He and Adam had been as close as brothers since childhood, and losing that bond, to any degree, would be painful. He had come to care for Persephone very much the way he cared for his sister. But to be separated from Athena by the awkwardness and discomfort that his unrequited love would inevitably create would be unendurable.
“We should let her rest now.”
Harry nearly jumped at the sound of Persephone’s voice. He’d forgotten there was an audience.
He nodded his agreement and rose from his chair, casting one last look at Athena. She was still too pale, but she appeared to be resting easily. She would recover, he was certain of it.
“I will see to it that the violets are put in water,” Persephone said as Harry approached the doorway.
“They will wilt soon regardless,” Harry said.
“You seem very certain of that,” Persephone said.
