Page 49 of A Modest Independence

Tom looked at her, his face half-shadowed in the darkness. “How little I know of you.”

“Don’t you? And here I thought you knew everything about everyone.”

“As a general rule.”

“How do you usually find things out? By planting spies in people’s houses as you did with Helena’s uncle?”

“Sometimes.”

“I daresay, if you were interested enough, you could have found out plenty about me.”

“Who says I wasn’t interested?”

She gave him a weighted glance. “And yet you claim to know nothing.”

“It didn’t seem fair to delve into your past.”

“You considered it?”

“More than once.” He laughed at her expression. “I’m a curious man.”

“Not curious enough, it seems.”

His smile faded. “No.” He looked out at the roiling sea, his arms folded over the railing. “I was content to keep you a mystery.”

“There’s nothing mysterious about me.”

“Isn’t there? You’ve managed to surprise me a time or two since we left London.”

Jenny felt the beginning of a blush creeping up her neck. She was glad of the darkness. “Were you terribly shocked by what I said at the pier?”

They’d been to several piers since that first one in Dover, but Tom asked for no clarification. She didn’t suppose he needed one. The memory of her impulsive declaration was no doubt burnt into his brain. “A little.”

“Only a little?”

“Very well, it was more than a little.” He set his hand beside hers on the rail. “But you see…I already had an inkling that you cared for me.”

“As a friend.”

“As more than a friend.” His fingers brushed hers. “When I was falling asleep on the sofa at Half Moon Street, I felt you touch me.”

Jenny went still. Her bosom rose and fell on an unsteady breath. “Did you? How mortifying.”

“Please, don’t be embarrassed. The truth is…it meant a great deal to me. I haven’t had much tenderness in my life. There’s been no softness. No sweetness. Not even when I was a lad. Lately, I’ve begun to feel the lack of it.”

“You make it sound as though any female would fill the void.”

“Hardly. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have spent the past years living alone. I would have married or…”

“Or.”

“Quite. But I haven’t. It’s never been the right time. There was too much work to do. Too many commitments. It’s only these past months that something in me has changed.”

“Hence, the pangs of longing.” She sighed. “Oh, Tom, we’re both lonely, that’s all. And we’ve only come to realize it since Helena and Mr. Thornhill were married.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It must be, mustn’t it? Theirs is one of those great love affairs. It casts the rest of us in the shade. Makes us feel as though we’re missing something important in our lives. Or someone.”