“It’s silly.” She chuckled with self-deprecation.
He did not laugh. “It’s not if it makes you cry.”
“It’s just that I feel so useless. My daughter is being presented to the Queen today. I should be there by her side. Accompanying her to her presentation, advising her, guiding her in society through her first Season. Helping her secure a good husband who would love and cherish her. And yet, here I am. Useless in this chair. A burden everyone has to bear instead of being any kind of help.”
“You are not a burden, my lady. Your family loves you and enjoys having you be part of their lives.”
“How can they enjoy it when I ruin all the occasions? In Cremorne, I had to be carried around like an unwieldy sack of potatoes. Even here in the house, while everyone is working hardpreparing for the presentation tea, I’m nothing but a piece of furniture standing in the way.”
The faintest of smiles curved Wang’s lips, drawing her attention to his mouth. How could a face so severe that it seemed sculpted from stone turn almost sensual with such a small smile?
“Not a sack of potatoes. At most, a very pretty, very light, feather pillow. I’d gladly carry you whenever you require it.”
His outrageous flattery had the power to penetrate her dark misery like the rays of the sun sifting through dark clouds.
“Thank you, Mr. Wang. At least your teasing has made me smile.”
“I am teasing, yes. But I am very serious about the offer as well. Although…”
“What?”
“I would much rather attempt to rehabilitate you, so you can stand on your own two feet.”
A bitter scoff escaped her. “That is very kind of you, but I’ve already tried without success and put myself through a lot of pain and disappointment in the process.”
“But you haven’t tried with me.”
The simple statement hung in the air, daring her to hope. Taunting her with its double meaning. Or was she just imagining it? She would like to dismiss a certain energy that shimmered between them. She had felt it the first time Mr. Wang had lifted her in his arms, that day in Cremorne, when her wheelchair had gotten stuck. He had done it so effortlessly and with such reverence.
Esther had thought herself immune to desire. Dead. She certainly had felt that way since her accident. But somehow, while held securely in this man’s arms, the side of her breast pressed against his chest and her arm wound around his muscular shoulders, awareness of his strength and athleticismhad caused flutters in her belly, accompanied by an awakening of desires long dormant.
That same desire still simmered now. Unacknowledged, but real.
She had the strange urge to skim her fingers over his high cheekbones, cup her hand over the sharp edges of his jawline, and brush her thumb over his lush lips. And oh, that lock of hair. Straight and thick, defying any effort to confine it, falling over his brow in such a provocative manner. It gave him a playful appearance, so at odds with his usual reserved expression. She wanted to discover if it was as silky as it appeared.
It taunted her until, of its own volition, her hand lifted and brushed it aside. It was an innocent enough gesture. But then Mr. Wang lifted his slanted eyes to hers, and awareness sizzled in his dark gaze.
His gaze which had surely singed her, judging by the heat that blossomed on her cheeks. Esther licked her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze homed in on her mouth. She knew at that moment that he was aware of her inappropriate thoughts. But more surprisingly, he appeared to reciprocate.
Surely not. She was reading too much into the situation. What could a vital, strong, and athletic man such as him want with an invalid like her? She was being ridiculous. His offer to help her walk again was a simple kindness on his part. Maybe it had even been Hartfield’s idea. Her stepson was a doctor, and he had mentioned several times that he would like to help her. Regardless of the motive, maybe she should accept Mr. Wang’s offer. But…
“I’m afraid.”
She was not aware she had said it aloud until he replied in that same calm voice of his.
“If you do not enter the tiger’s den, how will you get the tiger’s cub?”
Esther frowned. “Why would I want a tiger’s cub?”
Wang smiled, this time fully, and the effect was dazzling. “It’s just an ancient Chinese saying. Tigers are valuable animals. They represent strength and power. To capture one means to face great odds and succeed. If you don’t take a chance, how will you achieve what you want?”
He didn’t boast, didn’t make outlandish promises. But there was something in his steady manner that inspired confidence. Esther frowned, biting her lips. She’d never hated her helplessness more than at this moment. Elizabeth needed her mother by her side to guide her through her Season, and she was a useless cripple. Her stepson and Abigail had been a godsend. They were taking on the responsibility of presenting her daughter and accompanying her to balls and other society events. Esther, however, knew that the duty was hers. That she was failing as a mother.
Colin and Abigail were a young couple. They needed to focus on themselves and their marriage. Abigail might conceive, and then they would have their own offspring to take care of. Esther couldn’t burden them anymore. She needed to become independent and fend for herself and her daughter. Colin had been very generous and offered to set her up in her own residence if she wished. It was more than what her own husband—Colin’s father—had provided.
But in order to become independent, she had to stand on her own two feet. Both in the literal and figurative sense. She looked at Wang, who had not moved. His gaze remained direct and patient. Supportive.
“Do you think it possible that I could walk again?”
