He turned the light out next to her bed — their bed, again — and settled back on the pillows. He was so relieved to be back in the room, in this bed, that he didn't dare touch her, didn't dare do anything to break the delicate equilibrium that had begun to reestablish itself between them. He heard a rustle in the dark, and then her hand slid across his chest. "Did you really only want to sleep here?" she whispered. He let out a long breath of release and relief and rolled her over. Not to sleep. * She wasn't against him. More than anything, she wanted him to understand that. Almost more than anything…But what good was her love, if he wouldn't accept the changes in form, if not in substance?
She watched him march out of the library, proud and defeated and unwilling to admit that his era was over. Oh, my love, she thought. She hated Matthew's blunt, abrupt challenges, not because she disagreed with them but because of how she knew they would hurt Robert. She had caused him enough pain recently, and that was her domain. No one could hurt him like she could. It was only fair, she mused, as she watched him leave, and later as he paced the grounds. She would be his strength in this new, uncharted era, his support and his love — if he would let her.