“I am perfectly well,” she lied.
Another quick, treacherous glance. She caught it this time, because she had breathed in the wrong moment and turned her chin a fraction.
Edward looked away quickly. “Are you unwell?”
“No.” She composed herself. “I, uh, I’m only thinking of the baby.”
“Ah.” His posture relaxed. “Mrs. Hart could manage ten infants before breakfast. She travelled just to put your mind at rest with Pip.”
“That is not reassuring,” Beatrice said dryly, finally risking the smallest sideways look.
Another mistake.
Edward looked entirely too handsome. Entirely too composed. Entirely too aware of her noticing.
His mouth twitched. “You doubt her skills?”
“I don’t,” she said, staring at the window as if the fog held the answers to life’s most difficult questions. “I simply feel strange leaving Pip behind.”
“You left her for an hour yesterday,” he pointed out mildly.
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I could still hear her cry if she needed me.”
Edward’s eyes softened in the glass pane. “She will be fine, Beatrice.”
Something in his tone—gentle without presumption, reassuring without arrogance—made her swallow.
“I know,” she said quietly.
Silence settled again. Not uncomfortable, just… charged.
The carriage hit a rut, and her shoulder brushed his.
She froze. So did he.
He looked away first, which was intolerable, because it made her want to look at him, which she absolutely would not do.
“Are you certain you’re not unwell?” he asked after a moment, sounding almost amused.
“Quite certain.”
“Hm.” A thoughtful nod. “Because you keep avoiding looking at me.”
Her head snapped toward him before she could stop herself. “I am not avoiding?—”
Their eyes met and held for far too long.
Beatrice inhaled sharply and faced forward so fast that her curls nearly tugged free. “You’re imagining things,” she huffed, mortified by the warmth crawling up her throat.
Beside her, Edward huffed a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
The carriage slowed, and lantern light brightened the windows as they approached Berkeley Square, where Winthrop House blazed with candlelight and elegant carriages lined the street.
Edward straightened. “We’ve arrived.”
