She paused, realizing she stood alone with Thornton in the lingering fog of smoke. How fitting that they stand in diminishing embers.
His flat, stoic expression prolonged the moment. He eventually shifted his shaven jaw and provided, “You raised him well. Whatever this is, he isn’t to blame. You do know that, yes?”
A part of Magdalene’s soul melted and dripped into a pool at his feet. It was very much like Thornton to be a friend when she needed it most. It was the very thing she didn’t want to lose and why she had panicked that afternoon in the study. Because she didn’t want to lose the only man she had ever come to adore to the stupid passion that only ever ruined everything between a man and a woman. “Thank you, Thornton. I really needed to hear that.”
He half nodded. “I suggest you let me talk to him.”
She nodded, knowing Charles would, in fact, prefer it. She had an annoying tendency to coddle Charles and treat him like the child he no longer was. She couldn’t help it. Guilt over his wretched upbringing always brought out the worst in her. “If you could. A bit of man-to-man.”
“Of course. I’ll give him some time to himself first before I wander over. No man likes being cornered or chased.” He strode over to his evening coat and swiped it up. Draping it over his broad shoulders, he slid his arms into it and readjusted the coat back over his frame, covering his vest and linen shirt. He smoothed the lapels and eyed her.
It was as if he were reliving the way she had undressed him and then smacked him. She swallowed in awkwardness.
Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he departed with long, steady strides, momentarily stepping out through the open doors of the main entrance and into the night. He lingered, still making his presence known to her, that strong frame blurring within the shadows.
She sighed, sensing that he wanted to talk before wandering over to Charles but was too proud to be the first to do it. She slowly made her toward him. “’Tis good to see you.”
“And you.” His wry tone indicated otherwise.
“It’s been a hard month for me,” she confided.
“Has it?”
“Yes.” Not seeing Francine, Elizabeth and Sarah had been as equally unbearable as not seeing him. Whenever his girls gathered about her on her visits, one by one, all chipper and cheeky with radiant green eyes that matched his, she often forgot they weren’t even hers. They represented each and every child she had lost and the family she wished she’d always had.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she added, “I missed you.”
“I bet you have. I still have the mark to prove it.”
She cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“If you were sorry you wouldn’t have done it.”
He was making this so difficult. “Why did you come tonight, Thornton? To push this pitchfork into my side? I feel guilt-ridden enough as it is. As I have written in each and every letter I sent, you didn’t deserve it. Nor should I have perpetuated the situation. ’Tis my hope we can move past this. ’Tis my hope we can return to what we had.”
He said nothing.
“Thornton?”
He still said nothing.
“Thornton, say something.”
He still said nothing, merely lingered in the darkness.
She nodded. “This is but one of the many reasons as to why I panicked. I knew it would change everything between us. And it has.”
He huffed out a breath. “Do you know what I realized tonight? Shortly after I arrived and before the fire disbanded everyone?”
She hesitated, dreading what he was about to say. “What?”
“Men like you. Young, old, they are drawn to your presence and everything you are. The trouble is, you don’t like men. Every look and every glance they give you, you ignore like a nun on a Sunday. Perhaps you are not even aware of it, but I have a problem with it all the same, especially given that I myself am a man.”
Oh, now, that was white-knuckle-fisted male pride talking. Not common sense. “I don’t think I need to stand here and justify what my view on men is. ’Tis no different than your view of women. ’Tis why you and I have always got along so well. We never saw each other as a threat. And now you seek to change that? Why? I thought we were friends. Real friends capable of seeing past meaningless physicality.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“Magdalene?” he suddenly said in a strained, husky tone.