“Do not be humble, sir. Youwere!” she insisted, crossing the room. And for a moment, he almost thought she was going to throw herself in his arms. “Mr. Robinson was none the wiserabout your real identity. I have never seen the man smile, yet with you, he did nothing but! You could have convincedmeyou were the Duke of Avon. You must know His Grace very well indeed. All those details about Riverside Court, about his late father... An incredible performance!”
She spoke so quickly she grew short of breath, laughing as she settled in front of him.
It had been an unusually pleasant two hours in her company. Mr. Robinson was as miserable as Miss Tate had described, but the moment Nicholas introduced himself, channelingEdmund Keanto the best of his ability, the old miser looked like the cat who got the cream. He became bashful, polite, lavishing the duke with praise that would have made even Byron blush.
And when Nicholas returned to London, hewouldtell his friend Byron all about this strange escapade.
“You are forgetting the most important part, Miss Tate,” Nicholas redirected, arching a brow. Her light dimmed a little, and the abashed look on her face made him laugh. “Two months you have been granted to secure a new benefactor. You had your part to play, too. Your skills for negotiating are impressive. Do not doubt it.”
“You are kind. But shockingly, I have not forgotten, no,” she said, and something about her tone gave him pause. An inside joke, not meant for him.
She tapped him on the arm in thanks, forgetting her manners as she returned to the withdrawing room. Nicholas laughed at himself, looking down at the arm she had touched with a surprised smile, the limb warm where she had held him. He followed her within—her, this viscount’s daughter who acted nothing like one.
“I still have hope for therealHis Grace, the Duke of Avon,” Miss Tate continued, leaning over the coffee table to begin clearing away their cups.
Nicholas purposefully averted his eyes from her shapely form, watching her delicate hands instead. It felt almost ruinous to watch her innocence with any sort of lust.
“You need not trouble yourself with helping me further, Mr. Moore. I have asked too much of you already and am thankful beyond words. I will reach out to His Grace myself to inquire about a donation.”
Nicholas leaned on the doorframe, unsettled by the implication of a future reunion. “You can but try,” he murmured, then sucked in a breath. “And in the meantime, what will you do?”
“Why, remain here with the children and redouble my fundraising efforts. I will send a letter to the duke this evening and perhaps—Oh, but we could host a fundraiser in town! Or maybe... Hm... But then when would we...”
She spoke to herself, thoughts erratic as she collected the chipped sugar dish, then piled the now-empty china cups onto a silver tray and began bobbling toward the door.
He noticed, only because he was looking closely, that her hands began trembling around the tray.
Nicholas felt suddenly compelled to help her, worried she was overcome while she plotted under her breath. He swept the plate from her hands as soon as she passed him. Their fingers brushed and she fell silent, surrendering the tray to him as they locked eyes. A jolt of electricity ripped through his hand.
“Where to, Miss Tate?” he said, clearing his throat.
“Down the stairs... But really, you should not...” Her face colored, and she yielded. “I will show you, Mr. Moore. Thank you.”
Nicholas could not recall whether he had ever cleared away a tea service. In silence, he descended with Miss Tate into the bowels of the house, entering a humid, cool kitchen that was poorly outfitted.
Alone once more. Does she know how she torments me, bidding me to and fro? What is it in her, this woman I scarcely know, that compels me to act her slave?
As though embarrassed by the state of the room, utterly unaware of Nicholas’s wandering mind, Miss Tate quickly attempted tobring the kitchen into order, removing a recent delivery of flour sacks off the central island to make room for the tray of tea.
The plate settled on the wood with the tinkling sound of china on metal, standing guard between Miss Tate and Nicholas. He eyed her carefully over the island, unsure how to proceed, her long lashes batting back and forth as she avoided his gaze coquettishly. Their theatre piece had concluded, but he had no desire to leave.
He reached for the sugar dish at the same time she did, and their hands brushed once more. Glancing up, he met her eye. Was it possible she was doing this on purpose? Orchestrating these moments of contact to madden him?
No,she is not,he scolded himself internally, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. He was far from an ascetic—but Miss Tate had an effect on him as he had rarely experienced before.This chastity you have condemned yourself to after what happened in London is surely the cause of your present boyish fancies. She has asked nothing of you but to help her save this orphanage.
To ask more of her, to flirt, was not fair to the woman with a heart of gold. Even if every dark part of him longed to corrupt it—to press her against the island and ravish her. Sugar dish be damned.
“Would you—”
“Perhaps I should—”
They both spoke at once, and a ripple of laughter filled the quiet room, chasing away his salacious thoughts.
“Thank you, Mr. Moore,” Miss Tate said, pressing a hand to her heart. He noticed for the first time the silver locket around her neck. Her fingers seized around it, concealing the pendant from his view. “This is a kindness I will not soon forget. I feel most fortunate that you... took your luncheon in town yesterday and parked on our doorstep.”
He laughed under his breath. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Tate.”
“If you like...” Here, she hesitated, chewing infernally on her lower lip again, blood rushing to that plump swell of skin. “The children are preparing a play to be performed at Christmastide. It is a silly thing, really—a simplified version of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. The children will be snow fairies, and...” She laughed, embarrassed. “In thanks, I would very much like to invite you to watch their performance.”
