Edmund gathered his medical bag and crossed to the doorway, pausing just inches from Dominic. “I shall call again soon.”
“I should like that.” Nell lifted her chin, her gaze unwavering.
He nodded politely to the viscount. “Lord Westmore.”
Dominic remained silent, watching the doctor depart with eyes like flint. The front door opened and closed, the bell ringing out a final, lonely note as Edmund’s footsteps faded down the street.
Nell turned back to the worktable and began clearing the tea things, needing the distraction of labor. The china clinked sharply as she stacked the cups on a tray.
“Edmund.” Dominic spat the name like a curse. “You call him Edmund now.”
“We are friends.” She kept her back to him, focusing on the dregs of tea. “Friends use Christian names.”
“Friends.” He paced a short line near the hearth, his boots clicking rhythmically on the stone. “How pleasant for you both.”
“Was there something you needed, my lord?” She kept her expression flat, though her hands wouldn’t stay steady.
“You know why I am here.” His eyes dropped to her hands, tracking the slight tremor in her fingers.
“I am afraid I don’t.” She picked up the tray and turned from him, desperate for distance. “Excuse me. I have work to attend to.”
She walked toward the back storeroom, that cramped space crammed with flour sacks and sugar barrels where the air alwayssat thick and warm. His footsteps followed, unhurried and certain, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight.
“Since the lake, I haven’t had a single night’s peace.” He spoke from directly behind her, close enough that his breath stirred the loose hairs at her nape. “Not one.”
“And why should that concern me?” She set the tray on a shelf with a jarring rattle and turned to face him—then lost whatever she’d meant to say next. He was too close. Near enough that she could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes. “I need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse me.”
“You felt it.” His tone dropped low, almost hoarse. “At the lake. When I held you.”
Heat flooded her face and throat. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She smoothed the front of her apron with fingers that would not stop shaking.
“Liar.” The word came out almost gentle, which made it worse. He stepped fully into the room, and the door swung half-closed behind him. Sandalwood and rain—that was what he smelled of, and the storeroom was too small to escape it. “You felt what you do to me. What you have always done to me. And it terrifies you because your body told the same story mine did.”
“That was —” She broke off, her mouth working around a word she couldn’t find, the memory of his hardness against her hip burning through every sensible thought she’d built in the three days since.
“My body saying what my pride won’t let me.” He closed the distance between them by another half-step, his boots scraping the worn stone floor. “And I am done pretending otherwise.”
“Stop.” The word cracked down the middle as it left her. She stepped backward until her spine met the sturdy wooden shelf, jars clinking softly behind her.
“I have tried.” His ashen eyes burned into hers with a raw, agonizing honesty. “Two weeks of staying away. Two weeks of telling myself I don’t care about you.”
“But youdon’tcare about me. Why should you?” She lifted her chin, fury finally eclipsing her fear. “Your words, my lord. Nothing of consequence. That’s what you called me to your friends.”
He flinched like she’d struck him across the scar. “I was trying to protect you,” he said, reaching out to grip the edge of a shelf near her head, effectively pinning her in place.
“From what?” Her eyes flicked briefly to his white-knuckled grip on the wood before snapping back to his face.
“From me.” He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. “From what the ton would say if they thought I was interested. Your reputation would be destroyed by their gossip.”
“So you destroyed it yourself instead.” She held on to the shelf to steady her shaking frame. “You made me feel like dirt beneath your boots. All to protect me. How very noble of you, my lord.”
“I apologize.” He stepped closer until he was looming over her, the individual stitches in his silk waistcoat coming into sharp focus as he crowded her space. “I know what I did. I have hated myself for it every day since.”
“Good.” She tried to slide along the shelf to escape his shadow, but he tracked her movement, caging her with his body without yet making contact.
“Does he make you feel like this?” He searched her eyes, his words dropping to a rough, gravelly rasp. “Your Edmund.”
“Like what?” She breathed, her pulse skidding wildly as she pressed her spine against the wood.
