Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(87)

“No, indeed.” Aline was glad that she and her younger sister seemed to be back on good terms. “It will be interesting to see what becomes of your relationship, limiting it to letter writing for such a long period.”

“I’m looking forward to it, in a way,” Livia reflected. “It will be easier to discern my true feelings for Mr. Shaw when the communication is entirely between our minds and hearts, with all the physical aspects removed.” She grinned and blushed as she admitted self-consciously, “Although I will miss those physical aspects.”

Aline had gazed at a distant point outside a nearby window while daylight stole over the grounds. Her smile turned wistful as she thought of how much she too would miss the joys to be found in a man’s arms. “It will turn out all right,” she said. “I have high hopes for you and Mr. Shaw.”

“What about you and McKenna? Is there any reason to hope for the both of you?” As Livia saw Aline’s expression, she frowned. “Never mind—I shouldn’t have asked. I have promised myself to say nothing more on the subject, and from now on I will hold my silence even if it kills me…”

Aline’s thoughts were brought back to the present as she stepped outside and noticed that one of the footmen, Peter, was having difficulty hefting a massive trunk onto the back of a carriage. Despite his brawny build, the weight of the brass-bound trunk was getting the better of him. The object slid from its precarious position, threatening to topple Peter backward.

Two of the guests, Mr. Cuyler and Mr. Chamberlain, noticed the footman’s dilemma, but it did not seem to occur to either of them to offer assistance. They moved away from the vehicle in tandem, continuing their conversation while they observed Peter’s struggles. Aline glanced quickly around the scene, looking for another servant to help the footman. Before she could say a word to anyone, McKenna seemed to appear from nowhere, striding to the back of the carriage and wedging his shoulder against the trunk. The muscles of his arms and back bulged against the seams of his coat as he shoved the trunk into its proper place, holding it steady while Peter clambered up to fasten a leather strap around it.

Cuyler and Chamberlain turned away from the sight, as if it embarrassed them to see one of their group assisting a servant with a menial task. The very fact of McKenna’s superior physical strength seemed a mark against him, betraying that he had once labored at tasks that no gentleman should ever have done. Finally the trunk was secured, and McKenna stepped back, acknowledging the footman’s thanks with a brief nod. Watching him, Aline could not help but reflect that had McKenna never left Stony Cross, he almost certainly would have been in Peter’s place, serving as a footman. And that wouldn’t have mattered to her in the least. She would have loved him no matter where he went, or what he did, and it tormented her that he would never know that.

Sensing her gaze, McKenna glanced up, then immediately averted his gaze. His jaw hardened, and he stood there in silent contemplation before finally looking at her once more. His expression sent a chill through her…so wintry and withdrawn…and she realized that his feelings for her were transforming into a hostility that was proportionate to how much he loved her.

He was going to hate her soon, she thought bleakly, if he didn’t already.

McKenna squared his shoulders and came to her, stopping an arm’s reach away. They stood together in brittle silence, while small clusters of people chatted and shifted around them. One of the most difficult things Aline had ever done in her life was to lift her chin and stare into his eyes. The exotic blue-green irises were nearly obliterated by the dark black of his pupils. He looked pale beneath his healthy tan, and his usual vitality had been crushed beneath an air of absolute grimness.

Aline lowered her gaze. “I wish you well, McKenna,” she finally whispered.

He was very still. “I wish the same for you.”

More silence, pressing down on her until she nearly swayed beneath its weight. “I hope you will have a safe and pleasant crossing.”

“Thank you.”

Clumsily Aline offered her hand to him. McKenna didn’t move to take it. She felt her fingers tremble. Just as she began to withdraw her hand, he caught it and brought her fingers to his lips. The touch of his mouth was cool and dry against her skin. “Goodbye,” he murmured.

Aline’s throat closed, and she stood silent and shivering, her hand suspended in the air after he released it. Closing her fingers slowly, she brought her fist against her midriff and turned away blindly. She felt his gaze on her as she left. As she began to ascend the short flight of steps that led to the entrance hall, the thick scar tissue pulled at the back of her knee, a persistent, annoying burn that brought tears of rage to her eyes.

Nineteen

After the last guest had departed, Aline changed into a comfortable at-home gown and went to the family receiving room. Curling up in the corner of a deeply upholstered settee, she sat and stared at nothing for what seemed to be hours. Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered beneath a lap blanket, her fingers and toes icy. At her request, a maid came to light a fire in the hearth and brought a steaming pot of tea, but nothing could take the chill away.

She heard the sounds of rooms being cleaned; servants’ footsteps on the stairs, the manor being restored to order now that the house was finally cleared of visitors. There were things that she should be doing; taking household inventory, consulting with Mrs. Faircloth about which rooms should be closed and what items were needed from market. However, Aline could not seem to rouse herself from the stupor that had settled over her. She felt like a clock with a damaged mechanism, frozen and useless.