And in that silence, she tried so hard not to care. Not to wonder what she had done wrong. Not to replay yesterday’s memories, not to flinch at the idea that he had only come to her bed out ofduty, or guilt, or loneliness. That maybe he hadn’t wanted her at all. That maybe she had misunderstood everything—again.
She dropped her gaze, and for the first time, her voice sounded small. “Are you sorry you saved me that night?”
He didn’t answer right away. The pause felt unbearable.
Then, softly, “Are you still trying to break the engagement?”
Kitty’s eyes snapped up to his.
And there it was. The question neither of them wanted to ask because the answer had shifted in the quiet hours, when no one was watching.
“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered.
He looked at her like he was afraid to breathe.
Neither of them moved. The church seemed to hold its breath too.
Then—footsteps.
Kitty heard them first—the crunch of gravel outside, then the faint chatter of voices approaching.
One of them was unmistakable—Jane’s lyrical, unfiltered enthusiasm filling the otherwise solemn air.
Panic rose in Kitty’s chest. She saw Norman stiffen, then quickly smooth the front of his coat. His face snapped back into that carefully unreadable expression, but his eyes—hiseyes—were wide with alarm.
“Oh no,” Kitty breathed. She took a quick step back from him, and then another.
He didn’t stop her this time.
Jane’s voice grew clearer. “—absolutelygorgeous, Richard! Look at those windows—do you suppose the inside is just as grand?”
“Why, Jane,”Richard chuckled,”there’s only one way to settle this—we ought to enter.” The ancient oak doors groaned in protest as they swung inward, their iron hinges screaming as a flood of golden sunlight erupted through the opening.
There, framed in the arched threshold, stood Jane and Richard—one radiant with barely-contained energy, the other as inscrutable as the church’s shadowed corners.
Jane entered first, her boots clicking against the worn stone floor. Her gloved hand still rested against the door as if she might fling it wider.
Richard followed at a more measured pace, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe. The sunlight caught the silver threads at his temples as he turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the shadowed pews with deliberate calm.
Kitty’s breath snagged in her throat. The sudden light burned her eyes—or perhaps that was the traitorous heat pricking at their corners. Her fingers, which had been clutching Norman’s coat only moments ago, now fluttered uselessly at her sides.
Every practiced phrase, every polite deflection dissolved on her tongue, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of her still-thundering pulse.
Across the nave, Jane blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Then—with a furious intake of breath that echoed off the rafters—her lips curved into a grin sharp enough to draw blood.
“Well!” Her voice rang out, bouncing off the stone walls with merciless clarity. She made no attempt to conceal her disapproval.
“This is cozy.” Richard’s gaze flicked between them, questioning. “Care to explain what you two are doing here? Unchaperoned?”
Sixteen
“Kitty? Norman?”
The sound of the heavy church doors swinging open had sent a lingering ripple of alarm through his frame. Jane’s voice followed, high and strained.
He turned first. He always turned first, instinctively protective, trained to absorb the impact of discovery.
Kitty, to her credit, only stepped a pace away from him, her hands still calmly folded before her, though her eyes darted to Jane with a spark of guilt.
