times, no. You are a historian who studies my world. I don’t even know how you’d pursue such a profession while living in that world. This isn’t meant to replace your career. It’s for you to pursue it here when the opportunity affords itself. You said you hope to spend your summers at Thorne Manor, pursing research. I simply thought if that is what you choose . . .” He waves around the room. “I would like to give you a place to do that here, when it is convenient for you to do so. Even when you are in Yorkshire, I do not expect you to spend every minute here. I just wanted to accommodate you when you do visit.”
I exhale. “Thank you.” Another deep breath, and the fear passes, and I can look around the room with fresh eyes. Then, I really do grin and throw my arms around his neck. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
He holds me at arm’s length. “I said I wouldn’t ask or expect you to give up your life to be with me. Let me amend that, lest it seem as if I’m hoping you will. I will not allow you to give it up. I have seen how resentments can fester, bitterness eating away love, and we will not make that mistake. I would quite happily live in your world if that was a choice. Right now, it is not. So we will work out a solution to our rather unique problem, but it will never be one that sees you surrendering your life to share mine. Agreed?”
I entwine my hands in his hair and answer with my kiss.
32
I can’t sleep, and there’s no reason for it. No ghost whispers in my ear. My kitten is here, purring at the foot of the bed, finally allowed in after enthusiastic lovemaking that left me satiated and exhausted enough that I should be sound asleep. William certainly is. He’s dead to the world, a still-life portrait of a beautiful man in repose.
As perfect as his body is, tonight I’m watching his face by the glow of the almost-guttered fire. He looks so happy that my heart lifts. He is as happy as I am, in love, and my head swims with possibilities, possibilities we discussed into the night.
We’ll make this work. If Enigma can cross freely, then I can truly make a home on his side when I’m in Yorkshire. And I’ll be in Yorkshire whenever possible. Summer term, from May through August. Thanksgiving week in October. Nearly a month over the holidays at Christmas. Reading week in February. I’ll stay in my version of Thorne Manor when William is busy, and I’ll become part of the community. When he’s here, I will be, too. That will be our life together, and I couldn’t be happier.
So why am I awake? Something gnaws at my gut, and I want to dismiss it as my worrywart ways, as Michael called them. I could never receive good news without a tiny part of me tensing for trouble.
Something’s not right.
Something doesn’t fit.
About the ghosts? When I ask the question, a ping in my brain says yes. The theory I’ve concocted doesn’t quite work.
I rise and pad across the room to Lady Thorne’s dressing table, again without knowing why. Then, as my fingers touch the cool wood, I remember the engagement notice inside for August and Cordelia.
I slide open the drawer. At the creak, Enigma wakes with a mew and dashes over. I freeze, but William keeps sleeping.
As I lift Cordelia and August’s announcement, I see the other picture frame beneath it, the one I’d noticed before August’s arrival pulled me away. The photo is upside down with the newspaper clipping stuck to the back. It’s another engagement announcement, this one for the impending nuptials of Elizabeth (Eliza) Stanbury . . . and William Thorne.
This is William’s engagement announcement.
I chide myself for a dart of jealousy. I did more than get engaged after I left William. I married—very happily. While I’m very glad he isn’t married now, I can hardly be jealous of an engagement that never even reached the wedding ceremony.
I read the full announcement. Then, I cautiously turn over the frame, bracing, and rebuking myself again. Can’t be jealous of his engagement, and certainly can’t be jealous of his fiancé, a girl he didn’t love.
Eliza Stanbury isn’t my competition. She never was. After that flicker of jealousy, I flinch on her behalf, thinking of what she might have