He let out a deep breath, and I felt the need to inhale, as if our breath was somehow connected. “The accident shattered the illusion of that control. My title may not have changed, but the power to decide my own future certainly did. My course, my destiny, was ripped from my hands. For several months I refused to accept it. But the doctors, my leg, even my mother—none of them seemed willing to listen to my demands. Every ounce of control I had possessed was gone. And so was my future.”
His words were laced with a worn-out bitterness. I fiddled with the glove the doctor had removed, unsure what to say. “You seem disappointed to have discovered what most people who have experienced a normal life already know—that life hands out twists and turns, unexpected surprises.”
He laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. “Perhaps you are right, Juliet. It seems a lesson I was doomed to learn in the cruelest way possible. And now I am stuck with a way of never forgetting.”
As he spoke, he seemed to have become lost within himself, and even though we sat only a few inches apart, he felt very far away.
Suddenly I wanted very badly to bring him back, to anchor him the way I’d grown accustomed to him doing for me. “And have you accepted it, Halstead?”
He looked up at me then and swallowed heavily. “I am not sure. At times it feels like I have; at others . . . I still fight against it.”
I looked down at my bandaged hand, remembering the desperation of the night before—my frantic desire for control that had led to an agonizing burn. “There is a part in each of us that longs for a sense of control, battles for it, foolish though it may be. It is what makes us human.” I reached out, setting my still-gloved left hand atop his own.
He inhaled sharply but didn’t pull back.
Even through my glove I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “Perhaps control is an illusion meant only to torment us.”
Halstead leaned a fraction of an inch closer. “Then I dearly miss that illusion. I’d give anything to have it back.”
“Is that why you refuse to marry?” Suddenly his answer mattered much more than it should.
He stiffened, and I withdrew my hand, shocked by my own forwardness.
“You should go rest, Juliet. The others will be back soon.” What he left unsaid hung in the air: that it would not be wise for us to be found alone together.
“Yes, of course.” I got to my feet, a viselike clamp squeezing around my heart. He had shared something of himself with me, a glimpse into his past. And I’d gone and ruined it with an impertinent question, the need to satisfy my own curiosity. My chest felt unexpectedly heavy.
“Juliet?”
I turned back, foolishly hoping . . .
“You forgot the laudanum.” He held it out to me, and I could have sworn he took care to ensure our fingers did not brush as I took it.
For the rest of the day I kept to myself. It seemed the wisest course of action, for although Aunt Agnes hadn’t given voice to her expectations, I knew instinctively that it would behoove me to stay out of the way. Of her. Of Halstead.
I barricaded myself in my room and made a feeble attempt at writing to Harry with my left hand. After half an hour, all I had to show for my effort was a half-page of unreadable scrawl. It looked as if someone still in leading strings had penned it. At least it would make Harry laugh.
As Betsy dressed me that evening, I reminded myself I was supposed to be making an effort with Robert and had been rude to him last night and curt with him this morning.
So after dinner I allowed myself one brief glance at the table where Lady Margaret sat next to Halstead and then turned my attention to Robert. He sat by himself, reading a book in an out-of-the-way corner.
“May I join you?”
He didn’t smile. “If you wish.”
I took a seat on the sofa next to him, but he had returned to his book and didn’t look up.
Not to be dissuaded, I leaned over his shoulder. “If you find a book on”—I leaned closer—“the flora and fauna of the southern region of Wales more interesting than me, I have more to apologize for than I thought.”
He let the book slide shut. “I’m listening.”
“I am sorry for being so short with you last evening. You know how it wears on me to be in company night after night. But even so, you did not deserve to be treated thus.”
He turned, a fond look on his face. “Knowing you as I do, I was quite surprised you didn’t feign another headache.”
Without thinking, I reached up and rubbed my temples. “Believe it or not, last night I wouldn’t have had to pretend.”
Robert narrowed his eyes and seemed to notice my missing glove for the first time. “Have you injured yourself, Juliet?” He grabbed my hand and unwittingly put pressure on one of my blisters.
I winced and drew back, sliding my hand into the folds of my dress. My palm began to throb again. “It is nothing of concern—just a small burn. But my glove bothers it.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
I had no desire for him to know the extent of my injury or the reason behind it. I quickly changed the subject. “How was this morning’s ride?”
Robert shrugged. “You know I have never particularly cared for riding. But Lady Margaret did save me from a morning of dull conversation with Lord Aberdeen, so I cannot complain.” He pursed his lips into a frown. “I did wish you had come though.”
“I know. It is only that with my burn I did not dare try riding today.”
He shook his head. “Of course. I should have made the connection.”
“It’s no matter. Have you received a reply from the headmaster yet?”
He thought
