“Money means nothing to me—” Dominic protested.
“Because you’ve always had it.” She wrenched her hand free. “That is exactly my point.”
He stood there, breathing hard, his fingers empty.
“And I am six years older than you.” She pressed on before he could reach for her again. “Six years. The ton will count every one of them, and they will not be kind about it. When your friends sit around their clubs and laugh about the viscount who married an old widowed shopkeeper who...”
“Stop.” His voice cracked on the word.
“I cannot stop.” She wrapped her arms tight around her middle. “Because you won’t think about this, so someone has to. I have Oliver and Lily depending on me. Two children who have already survived so much — I cannot do this to them.”
The words landed like a blow. She saw him flinch, saw the colour leave his face, and she pressed on anyway because stopping now would mean losing her nerve entirely.
“There is more.” The admission tore out of her, the truth she had never spoken aloud. A tremor ran through her frame. “Lily nearly killed me. The birth was so difficult the doctor said another pregnancy could —”
She stopped. Drew a jagged, shaking breath. Her free hand pressed hard against her stomach. “I might not be able to give you an heir, Dominic. And the viscountcy needs one. The title, the estate, the legacy your family has held for generations — it all ends if you choose me.”
“I don’t need an heir.” He spoke fiercely, reaching out to cup her cheek.
Nell turned her face away, jaw clenching. “You are a viscount. Of course you need an heir.”
“I don’t care about the legacy.” He tried to turn her face back toward him, but she pulled away entirely, stepping sideways until her shoulder brushed a stack of cooling tins.
“You will.” She saw the future stretching out before her, clear and terrible. “When the wanting fades. When you look across the breakfast table and see a woman with grey in her hair and a body that has carried children and a name that brings you nothing but whispers. You will care then.”
“It won’t fade.” He followed her, his breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches, his fingers hovering just inches from her sleeve. “What I feel for you — it won’t fade. I have never felt anything like this.”
“It always fades.” She thought of Gabriel — of promises made and love that had curdled into contempt. She held up both hands, palms out, to keep him at bay. “You are reckless, Dominic. You followed me into that maze without caring who saw us. You are proposing right now because you saw Edmund leaving and you panicked — not because you have thought any of this through.”
“That is not true.” His jaw set like iron, his hands falling to his sides.
“Is it not?” She held his gaze, arms wrapped tight around her ribs. “You saw him leaving my shop and you panicked. Just as you panicked at the festival. You act on impulse, on feeling,without considering what comes after. And I cannot build a life on impulse. Dominic, I cannot afford to be reckless.”
“Nell.” He reached for her one more time, her name breaking in the back of his throat.
“My answer is no.” The words fell between them, heavy and final. She stepped back, well out of his reach. “I am sorry. But no.”
He stared at her as though she had spoken a language he did not know, his arms hanging at his sides.
“You are saying no.” The light in his pale eyes went dull, his tone flat.
“I am saying no.” Nell repeated.
“I am offering you everything.” A raw, wounded sound escaped him. He spread his hands wide, gesturing around the humble shop. “My name. My home. My heart.”
“I know.” She held her ground, refusing to let a single tremor show, though the effort cost her everything she had. “And I am saying no. Because you can walk away from this and lose nothing, Dominic. Your title stays. Your fortune stays. Your reputation stays. But if I say yes and it falls apart — I lose everything. My shop. My standing. My children’s future. I cannot gamble with their lives because your heart is racing.”
He went very still.
“So that is it.” He stood emptied of everything but a quiet, echoing pain. His hands fell to his sides. “You would rather have him. The safe choice.”
“I would rather have sense.” She held him there, her vision burning and her throat aching with the effort not to break. “I would rather have a future I can count on.”
“And I cannot give you that.” His mouth went hard.
“No.” The word came out soft. Air forced through a chest that felt as if it might split.
He stayed there for a long moment. He did not move. He took in her face as if he meant to learn it by heart. Then something shut behind his eyes. The warmth went out. The vulnerability vanished behind walls that rose in an instant.
