He turned and hurried up the stairs to his rooms. After closing his bedchamber door behind him, he leaned against the oak panel and pulled in an unsteady breath. What the hell had just happened to him? Clearly, seeing Callie again had addled his wits.
“Which shouldn’t surprise you, you arse,” he muttered. True. How many times had it felt as if his unrequited feelings for her would drive him insane? Too many to count. And now it appeared that the sight of her had pushed him over the edge, causing him to hallucinate. To manifest his fondest desire—he and Callie as a family, with a child of their own—into an image in an antique mirror. He’d lost his heart to her long ago. His soul as well. Why shouldn’t his mind be next?
With a weary sigh, he pushed off the door and headed toward the washstand. Time to ready himself for an evening in her company. Hours to pretend he wasn’t aching for her. God help him. But then tomorrow, she would depart for London.
He wanted her never to leave.
He couldn’t wait until she was gone.
So he could start, once again, living without her.
CHAPTER TWO
Callie watched William climb the stairs. The instant he disappeared from her view, she whipped her attention back to the mirror pendant. Heart pounding, hands shaking, she lifted it and stared into its shiny surface. And saw only her own pale face reflected there. Whereas only moments ago she’d seen… she wasn’t quite certain. A figment of her imagination. One that, impossibly, looked like her and William. Sitting beneath the ancient willow by the lake at Albright Cottage. A baby in her arms. A baby with William’s dark brown eyes.
The image had shaken her to her core. She’d just convinced herself it was nothing more than a trick of the light coupled with her fevered imagination when she’d looked at William. And instantly suspected by his expression that he, too, had seen it—or at least something.
She’d been about to tell him, but before she could, he’d denied that anything unusual had occurred. And she quickly realized the folly of admitting what she’d seen—or thought she’d seen. For what could she say? That the mirror had shown an image of them together with a child? Of course he’d ask why on earth she’d see such a thing.
And how would you answer that, Callie?
With the truth? That the image of her and William and a baby perfectly replicated her most secret heart’s desire?
She squeezed her eyes shut. Dear God, she wanted him to know. Wanted him to know the secret she’d carried in her heart all these years. That she’d loved him since the age of four. And had been in love with him since she was fourteen, the year she realized that her whirlwind of heart-fluttering feelings toward him were the same as what Hayley felt for Stephen and Pamela for Marshall.
She recalled the exact instant she knew she was in love with him. She’d risen from the lake where he’d just tossed her, drenched, ready to give him the dressing down of his life. But the words had died in her throat when he’d slowly approached her, his gaze intent on hers with an expression she’d never seen in their dark depths before. One that made her feel as if her skin had both shrunk and caught on fire. When he halted, less than two feet separated them. So close she could see the tiny gold flecks in his coffee-brown irises. The small scar on his chin, a souvenir from one of their childhood tree-climbing adventures. The gloss of his thick, ebony hair.
An agony of anticipation had trembled through her, waiting to see what he would say. What he would do.
How is it that, even covered in lake water, you still smell like roses?
Whatever answer she might have been able to dredge up was well and truly lost when he brushed his fingertips over her wet cheek and whispered her name. Callie.
That single touch, that one word, uttered in that soft rasp seemed to burst an internal dam, flooding her with a rush of love so strong it literally knocked her off her feet. Her knees buckled, and down she’d gone again. And had never been the same.
Her fourteen-year-old imagination had instantly taken flight, filling her with fantasies of her and William someday planning a future together. But her elation at finally putting a name to the agony of emotions she felt—in love—was soon squashed by two harsh realizations: first that Hayley and Stephen, by virtue of all the advantages they afforded her in the forms of education, travel, and exposure to culture and Society, were grooming her to make a brilliant Society marriage. And second, and far worse, her love for William was completely unrequited. After that day at the lake, he’d never given her the slightest indication that his feelings ran any deeper than brotherly affection.
Hayley’s words constantly echoed in Callie’s mind. Stephen and I will help you find a wonderful man who will love you and take good care of you and give you a wonderful life, Poppet.
And Hayley had been as good as her word. From the time Callie had made her official coming out seven years ago, she’d attended countless balls and Society functions. Being the Duchess of Moreland’s sister gave her entrée into the most exclusive salons and soirées and guaranteed her choice of escort to any event she chose to attend. And she attended many, knowing in the back of her mind Hayley’s desire for her to fall in love with one of the dozens of eligible young men of the peerage her sister paraded before her.
Callie also desperately wished to fall in love with one of those young men, as she had no desire to be in love alone, for all her dreams to revolve around a man who thought of her as a sister. There were several young lords whose company she truly enjoyed, most notably Eric Preston, Viscount Reddington. Eric was intelligent, wealthy, amusing, and ridiculously handsome—everything any young woman could possibly ask for, and Callie liked him very much.
But she didn’t love him. No, as each year passed, the only man her heart cried out for, or had ever cried out for, was William. William, whose dark eyes she never tired of looking into. Whose crooked smile set her heart fluttering. She loved the look of him—tall and broad-shouldered and muscular. The way his large, strong hands could gently cradle the most delicate porcelain. The hint of sandalwood that clung to his skin. Even the dust that so frequently streaked his clothes.
But mostly she loved the way he made her feel—free. From the confines of Society that she so often found suffocating. She could be herself with him, utterly and completely. She loved the way he listened to her, as if what she said truly mattered. Loved the way he teased and challenged her. She loved his kindness and generosity toward the villagers and the loving way in which he’d cared for his father as his health declined. She felt connected to him in a way she’d never experienced with any other man. It was as if he were her other half.
And never had she been so aware of another man as she was of William. Her heart pounded just thinking about him. His smile turned her knees to porridge. She often found herself trying to amuse him just so she could hear his deep, rich laugh. Her pulse raced whenever their hands accidentally brushed.
In spite of the luxurious townhome in London and various country estates where she resided with Hayley and Stephen for eleven months of the year, her favorite month had always been July, as that was when she’d visit Pamela and Marshall in Halstead. For thirty glorious days, she roamed the village where she’d lived year-round as a child. And as the years passed, she realized that, while she enjoyed traveling and was grateful for the opportunity to experience other places, Halstead was home. And the place she loved best.
Just as while she enjoyed meeting the dozens of young men Hayley and Stephen tossed in her path and was grateful for the care and concern her sister and brother-in-law gave her, William remained her heart’s desire.
She’d purposely not visited Halstead for two years, forcing herself instead to travel, all in an effort to forget William. Surely if she didn’t see him every summer, he’d fade from her memory and leave her heart free to give to another. A man who would love her with the sort of passion she craved. Who didn’t look upon her as a younger sister.
But her plan had failed miserably. In spite of the fact that she
and Aunt Olivia, who’d accompanied her abroad as her chaperone, had shared many fine adventures, extensively exploring France and Italy, Callie’s heart had stubbornly remained in Halstead. With the village she loved. And the man no time or distance could erase from her soul.
The man who didn’t love her in return. At least not in the way she wanted him to.
Or did he?
There had been a few times over the years when she’d caught him looking at her in a certain way… with an intensity that had shivered heated anticipation down her spine. Made her wonder if he were going to kiss her. Much to her disappointment, he never had.
But that was going to change.
She intended to see to it.
See to it that William kissed her.
For surely if he did, she’d know if there were any chance his affection could grow into something deeper.
Her determination all stemmed from something Aunt Olivia had said yesterday in the carriage. Callie hadn’t planned that they’d stop in Halstead this year, reasoning there was no point, as Pamela and Marshall were already in London.
“Don’t you wish to visit William?” Aunt Olivia had asked in the loud voice that was a result of her poor hearing.
Callie wanted to visit him more than she desired her next breath. But what was the point? How many times could her heart break? Seeing William would accomplish nothing save to torture her.
“I’m certain he’s very busy with the shop, Aunt Olivia. Besides, we’d only be able to stay one night—”
“Oh, one night is ample enough time, my dear.”
“Enough time for what?”
“For saying, or doing, whatever requires saying and doing.”
Callie blinked. “What do you mean?”
Aunt Olivia gave an absentminded wave. “One must never forget, my dear, that men are not mind readers.”
Callie’s lips twitched. Her aunt frequently went off on conversational tangents. “Of course they’re not—”
“They are particularly dense with regard to women. Oh, men may be intelligent with facts, clever with sums, and ingenious with horses and machinery, but when it comes to women… ” She shook her head. “There’s nary a one in the bunch who isn’t an utter nincompoop. Why, if we women didn’t let them know precisely how we feel, they’d never discern it on their own. And naturally, actions are far more effective than words. If I hadn’t gotten the ball rolling by demanding that your Uncle Ephraim kiss me, we never would have made it down the aisle.”
Callie blinked in surprise. “You asked him to kiss you?”
“Certainly. If I hadn’t, he never would have done so. Foolish man believed that, because my parents had come into a small inheritance, he wasn’t good enough. Not good enough, indeed. Such notions men get in their heads! I put an end to that nonsense. Remember, darling—nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She yawned hugely. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I must close my eyes and rest lest I look a fright when we arrive in London… unless you change your mind and decide we should stop in Halstead.”
Callie had stared in stunned amazement at her dozing aunt, who frequently imparted surprisingly insightful nuggets of wisdom that belied her normal absentmindedness. She’d never known that Uncle Ephraim had refrained from courting Aunt Olivia because he perceived her to be above his station. Much, Callie realized, the way William would most assuredly view her—the sister of a duchess.
Was it possible he cared for her but wouldn’t think of pursuing her because he believed himself socially inferior? The question had pounded hope through her, and that’s when she’d known she had to stop in Halstead. Had to see him. The thought of admitting her feelings to William utterly terrified her. But the thought of not telling him, of never knowing if something could develop between them…
She had to find out if there was even the slightest chance his affection could blossom into passion, if perhaps her love wasn’t unrequited after all.
That was worth any risk.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
And it had to be now. Her twenty-fifth birthday loomed, and Callie couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. When she arrived in London, she would accompany Hayley and Stephen to Queen Victoria’s coronation. Then the following evening, Callie would be the guest of honor at the lavish birthday ball Hayley and Stephen were hosting for her. Lord Reddington would be among the three hundred guests. Callie knew Hayley hoped and believed that an engagement announcement would soon follow the party, if not to Eric, then to one of the dozens of other eligible young men with whom she was acquainted. Callie hated to disappoint Hayley.
But neither could she marry a man she didn’t love.
So now here she was, standing in William’s shop. In spite of her determination to get him to kiss her, part of her had come here hoping she’d see him again and feel nothing.
That had most assuredly not been the case.
The instant she’d seen him, she’d known her love for him burned as bright as ever. And for one dizzying instant when their gazes first met across the shop, she’d thought she’d seen something in his eyes… a heated spark that filled her with hope that she’d made the right decision in coming here. That perhaps he’d missed her over the last two years. Had decided that his feelings ran deeper than just friendship.
It had been there in his eyes, she was sure of it. Callie knew that her position as sister to a duchess would prevent William from ever pursuing her. He would believe that he had nothing to offer a young woman in her position. What he didn’t realize was that he was everything she’d ever wanted. Surely Hayley wouldn’t begrudge her the man she loved—provided that man loved her in return. And since Callie knew William wouldn’t make the first move, that meant she had to.
The sound of a footfall overhead pulled her from her thoughts. William would be down soon.
He’d accompany her to Albright Cottage for dinner.
And by the end of the evening, she’d know what it felt like to be kissed by the man she loved.
And from that kiss, she’d know if there was any chance he could love her in return.
Her gaze returned to the beautiful mirror pendant. There was no sign of the image she’d seen earlier. Perhaps she’d imagined it.
Or perhaps it was a sign that her heart’s desire wasn’t as far out of reach as she’d thought.
CHAPTER THREE
“I must say, you’re looking extremely well, William,” shouted Aunt Olivia, eyeing him over a spoonful of the strawberry tarts they were enjoying for dessert after a savory meal of roasted chicken, mashed turnips, and buttery green beans. “Very fit and robust.”
William smiled across the dinner table at the cherub-faced matron. From the moment he’d become a frequent visitor to Albright Cottage, she’d insisted he call her Aunt Olivia as he was “part of the family.” Her presence in his life had helped fill the gaping void left by his mother’s death.
“Thank you, Aunt Olivia. You’re looking very well yourself.”
She frowned and scooped up another spoonful of tart. “Oh, yes, I had a will drawn up years ago. It’s kept at my solicitor’s office. No need to look for it.”
William and Callie exchanged a quick look, one filled with deep fondness for Aunt Olivia. Then his heart ridiculously skipped a beat when Callie shot him the conspiratorial wink they’d always shared when Aunt Olivia’s conversation went astray because of her hearing affliction. When he returned the gesture, Callie’s smile widened.
The ease with which they’d fallen into their old camaraderie shouldn’t have surprised him, as it had always been that way between him and Callie. The meal had proven both fun and bittersweet, as the three of them had relived fond memories of times spent together. Callie and Aunt Olivia had regaled him with tales of their travels, and he’d caught them up on the local happenings. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d enjoyed a meal more.
Yet that enjoyment was marred by the knot of tension inside him. The ache that urged him to consign conve
ntion to the devil. To push back his chair, snatch Callie into his arms, and simply carry her off. Lock them both in a room where nothing and no one, no social conventions or expectations or members of Society, could ever come between them. A place where he could tell her and show her how much he wanted her. Needed her. Loved her.
Unfortunately, such a place did not exist.
With each laugh they’d shared, with each bite of food, the imaginary clock in his head ticked down, erasing another precious second of their time together. Time that was simultaneously far too much and not nearly enough.
“He said well, Aunt Olivia, not will,” Callie shouted.
Aunt Olivia’s expression cleared and a pink flush stained her cheeks. “Thank you, dear boy. A result of all the marvelous sea air Callie and I enjoyed during our travels. Now tell us, how is it such a healthy specimen as yourself remains unmarried?”
William’s fingers tightened on his spoon. Because your niece is the only woman I’ve ever wanted, and she’s beyond my reach. He arranged his features in a sheepish expression and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, I fear no fair maiden will have me. Must be all my chatter about antiques and the dust I’m forever dragging around behind me.”
“Or perhaps you simply haven’t given them the proper encouragement, dear boy. Women aren’t mind readers, you know.”
William noted that Callie turned her head swiftly toward her aunt and shot her a surprised look. Before he could decide what that was about, Aunt Olivia continued, “Well, I’m certain you’ll find the right young lady. One who shares your passions and is intrepid enough not to be put off by a bit of dust.” She spooned up the last bit of her tart. “Delicious. I shall make a point to tell Hayley she must serve tarts at your birthday party, Callie. I only hope we’re all not too tired to enjoy the festivities. After all, I’m certain the coronation will be most exhausting, and your birthday ball is the very next evening.”
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