Philippa regarded the two of them—the doctor standing close, his hand hovering at Nell’s elbow—and something knowing flickered across her face. She tucked it away with practised ease.
Dominic stood rigid through the exchange, watching Nell with an intensity that bordered on indecent. Philippa glanced at him, one eyebrow arching in silent prompt.
He cleared his throat. “Her sweets are exceptional.” The words came out rough, scraped raw. “The best in the county.”
The praise landed heavy in the silence. He wouldn’t meet Nell’s eyes. Philippa’s gaze darted between the two of them, her fan tapping once against her palm.
“High praise,” she murmured. “My nephew rarely compliments anything.”
“Mrs. Ashford.” Dominic took a half-step forward, his voice strained. “I wondered if I might —”
“Dr. Hartley.” Nell cut across him, turning to the doctor with a brightness sharp enough to draw blood. “I’ve heard there is a viewing platform by the lake. I should very much like to see it.”
Hartley read the desperation in her shoulders. “Of course.” He offered his arm. “The view is quite fine this time of year.”
“Miss Wells.” Hartley turned to Daphne. “Would you care to join us?”
Daphne looked at Dominic, then Philippa. “Actually, I think I shall stay. Lady Philippa, would you mind terribly if I walked with you?”
“I would be delighted, Miss Wells.” Philippa offered her arm.
Nell squeezed Daphne’s hand once—gratitude and warning compressed into a single press of fingers—then took Hartley’s arm and did not look back.
Dominic watched her hand resting on another man’s sleeve. He watched her straight, proud back disappear down the gravel path. His gloves creaked where his fists tightened.
He should let her go. She’d made herself clear.
His feet moved anyway, drawn toward the lake at a distance he couldn’t close and couldn’t widen. Fools never knew when to stay away.
The path to the lake wound through manicured hedges and beneath ancient oaks with leaves just beginning to turn gold. Hartley walked beside her in comfortable silence, his presence steady and undemanding. “Thank you.” Nell’s voice came out shakier than she’d intended, and she reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “For getting me away.”
“You seemed like you needed an exit.” His smile was gentle, and he adjusted his pace to match her smaller steps. “I have found that garden parties often require strategic retreats.”
The viewing platform jutted out over the lake, a wooden structure weathered by the elements. A few other guests stood at the far end, admiring the swans that drifted across the glassy surface. Nell stepped onto the platform, the boards creaking beneath her feet, though she moved to the railing, wrapping her fingers around the worn wood.
“It’s beautiful.” The tension in her shoulders began to unwind in the peaceful quiet.
Hartley joined her at the railing, standing close enough to offer warmth but not so close as to crowd her. “I come here sometimes when I need to think.”
“What do you think about?” She turned to look at him, her curiosity piqued by his somber tone.
His smile turned wistful, and he looked out at the water. “The past, mostly. Paths not taken.”
“I think about those things too.” She looked down at her reflection in the shallows, understanding him better than he knew.
“Do you ever wonder what your life might have been?” He asked it quietly, his brown eyes raking over her face. “If you had made different choices?”
Every day, she thought. But she merely smoothed the lace at her wrist. “Sometimes. But I have my children and my shop. I wouldn’t trade those.”
“No.” His features softened, and his hand drifted a fraction closer to hers on the rail. “I don’t suppose you would.”
For a moment, Nell let herself believe this quiet companionship could be enough. Then, a sharp crack splintered the air. The boards beneath Hartley’s feet gave way without warning. He went down with a shout of surprise, plunging intothe lake in a violent crash of churning water. Nell stumbled backward as the platform began to crumble, the boards beneath her own feet groaning as they tilted toward the dark gap.
Suddenly, strong arms caught her from behind. She was yanked back from the collapsing edge and pulled hard against a solid chest. She landed on safe ground, the gravel path solid beneath her shoes. His arms wrapped around her, holding her so tight she could feel his heart hammering against her spine. His rapid breath stirred the hair at her temple as he gasped for air.
Dominic had been approaching from the path when he saw the platform give way. He had sprinted the final yards, his boots thudding against the turf, to catch her just before she vanished. His arms tightened around her in an instinctive, protective clench, holding her like she might dissolve into the autumn mist.
For one breath—one single, treacherous breath—Nell let herself feel it. She leaned into the solid warmth of his coat and the staggering strength in his arms. Then she felt it.
