She was afraid to want anything from him. Afraid that accepting even one kindness might weaken the wall she had built between them.
He approached slowly, careful not to crowd her. "Whichever ones you want, place them on that table. I will have the librarian make copies and send them to Covent Garden."
Livia nodded but said nothing. Left to herself, she would have chosen half the room. He could see it in the way her eyes moved hungrily over the shelves, pausing on titles, bindings, languages she recognised and others she wished to learn. There was an ache in her restraint.
"I found the Petrarch volume here," Henry said.
Livia glanced at him. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was leading her carefully back through memory, offering small pieces of what they had once shared and praying she would touch one without flinching. "I lost that one at Beaumont's...I did not have time to pack."
"Speaking of Beaumont's…" he said, taking one careful step closer.
