The Hope of Love - Meara Platt Page 0,16
say and when not to talk at all.
He also knew when to turn away.
She loved him so deeply, it hurt more than her physical injuries.
Once he had her back in bed, he handed her a damp cloth and left to put the kettle on, but mostly it was an obvious attempt to allow her the privacy she needed to attend to herself as best as she could. He waited a few minutes before returning to her bedside. “I’ll give you some laudanum today. I was afraid to give it to you last night for fear you wouldn’t wake up again.”
“Yes, um…” She knew she sounded flustered and her cheeks were still on fire, but now that the worst was over, she wasn’t crying any more. “I heard voices in my sleep, but I can’t recall what anyone was saying. It all sounded like a low hum.”
“The vicar and I were talking about you.”
She felt an aching pull to her heart. “I hope you’ve called off the wager.”
“What wager?”
“Isn’t this why you were both in my shop yesterday? To see who would get a kiss from me first? How much did you bet? A shilling? A pound? More? Or was it less? Did I come cheap?”
“Blessed saints, no wonder you were suddenly so angry with us. There is no wager. There’s never been a wager. There will never be such a wager. Felicity, we are all your friends.” He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “I hope you and I are more than friends, but we’ll have that conversation once you are on the mend.”
“Don’t! Please don’t pretend you care for me. It doesn’t make me feel any better. It only makes everything hurt worse.” She closed her eyes and turned away from him so he wouldn’t see her tears. Yes, she had become a spinster watering pot.
“Don’t cry, love.” She was surprised by the light caress of his knuckles against her cheek.
“Why are you calling me that?”
“Because I love you, Felicity Billings. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I should have told you sooner.”
He spoke softly, his voice soothing and tender. How could she trust him? “Angus, stop. I don’t need you to lie to me.”
“It isn’t a lie.”
“Hah! If you felt this way, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“The reasons are complicated. I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?” She was still turned away from him, too overset to look at him.
“From my family.” She heard the bitter ache in his voice. Ironic, she was desperate to have a family, and he obviously hated his own. “I’ll tell you more about them when you’re feeling better.”
She gave a little huff which he could take any way he wished. As for her, she knew their conversation would never happen. He would later admit he was being gentle with her and pretending to love her in order to keep her spirits up while she was so badly injured. Perhaps he would later deny he had ever said the words.
“I love you, Felicity,” he whispered again.
She wanted him to stop.
His admission only brought her more pain.
She meant to insist he leave her alone, but couldn’t seem to form the words.
*
After calming Felicity down again, Angus stepped into the bookshop to peer out the front window. The blanket of low, gray clouds was now lifting, and only a few snowflakes were whirling in the air. The blizzard was ending, and the process of digging out would now start. “Adam, will you head over to the Golden Hart and ask Mrs. Cummings to prepare a broth for Felicity?” He drew a few coins from his pocket. “Bread, too. Lots of it. And some ale and stew for us. I’m starved.”
Adam had just finished stoking the fire and now rose. “I’ll have one of their boys deliver it while I go to Sherbourne and let Lord Welles know what happened.” He set aside the poker and went to fetch his cloak, gloves, and scarf. He buttoned his jacket and donned his scarf. “What was she crying about? Her arm? The goose bump on her head?”
“I told her I loved her.”
Adam’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Finally. About time. And this made her cry anguished tears?”
He sighed. “She didn’t believe me. She thought I was lying to her to make her feel better. She thinks you and I only stopped by to see her because we’d placed a wager on who could kiss the pathetic spinster first.”
“Lord! Is this what she thinks of us?”
“No, it’s