The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,28

“Thank you, but what do I need that for?”

“Calliope…” He looked at her strangely. “You’re crying.”

So she was. She could feel the wet tears on her cheeks now that he’d pointed them out, and snatching the earl’s handkerchief she brushed them swiftly away, then crumpled the silk cloth into a ball and held it clutched against her chest as if it contained all the love and affection she’d always craved but never received.

“I am terribly sorry.” Her smile was paper thin, and faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I don’t…that is to say, I rarely allow my emotions to get the best of me. I cannot remember the last time I cried.”

“Maybe you were just waiting for a shoulder.” He reached out with his hand and gently ran his thumb across her cheek, catching the last of her tears. “You can have mine, if you’d like.”

Leo heard something crack inside his chest when Calliope gently laid her head upon his shoulder.

It was the sound of ice breaking.

After seven long years, the wall around his heart had finally started to melt courtesy of a tiny blonde with a penchant for climbing trees. He was feeling things again. Things he never thought he’d be able to feel. And it was exhilarating. And fascinating.

And terrifying.

Absolutely, positively terrifying.

Everything inside of him was telling him to run. To push Calliope aside and bolt for the nearest steps. It was all happening too bloody fast. Surely if he got away from her he would come to his senses. But then that was the trick, wasn’t it? Right now, with Calliope cradled in his arms and her head tucked beneath his chin, he didn’t want to come to his senses. If this was what insanity felt like then he never wanted to be sane again.

Seven years of living with a dead heart…

And all it took was seven minutes with the right woman for it to start beating again.

“I am to understand your relations did not treat you kindly?” Red tinted the edges of his vision as he imagined anyone being cruel to Calliope, especially those who had been charged with protecting her. Mistreating the shy wallflower would be the equivalent of kicking a small, defenseless puppy. A puppy with the sweetest amber eyes he’d ever seen.

“They were not unkind. Well, yes, yes they were,” she amended. “Not my uncle. He was always just…indifferent.”

“Indifference can be an unkindness in and of itself,” Leo noted. “What about your aunt and cousin?”

Calliope sighed. “They both have their moments, but Beatrice is undoubtedly the worst. When we were children, I used to think she was simply jealous of the attention I was receiving.” A wry smile flitted across her lips. “Until I realized I wasn’t receiving any attention to be jealous of. I really shouldn’t complain. I was never beaten, or went to bed hungry. They could have put me in an orphanage and no one would have been the wiser. Instead they raised me, and clothed me, and always made sure I had enough to eat. But…”

“A soul needs more than food to survive,” Leo said quietly.

“Yes,” she said, glancing up at him in surprise. “Exactly. You understand, then.”

“More than I wish I did.” He knew exactly what it felt like to starve from the inside out. To crave affection more than air. To want to hold someone he loved so much his arms ached from the emptiness.

“Helena told me you were a widower. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

How many others had said the exact same thing? I’m very sorry for your loss. Six little words he’d come to despise with every fiber of his being. And yet, when Calliope used them, they hadn’t sounded artificial or contrived. She’d meant what she said. She really was sorry. And her somber authenticity struck a chord deep inside of him.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “I lost them seven years ago.”

“Them?” she questioned, her brow creasing.

Once the very mention of Heather and Henry would have dropped him to his knees. Now he felt their loss as a dull ache. Something never to be forgotten, but something he could – he would – learn to live with. “My wife and son.”

“You lost your son as well?” Genuine horror flashed in Calliope’s eyes. “I didn’t…that is to say…I had no idea. I’m so terribly sorry. A wife is awful enough, but a child…I’m sorry,” she repeated, and she started to withdraw, but with a ragged breath he pulled her back against his chest