The walk home passed in silence, their boots crunching along the dark, rutted lane. Nell stared straight ahead, her arms wrapped tight around herself while her hand still tingled from the impact of the slap.
“Nell.” Daphne fell into step beside her, her breath clouding in the cold air. “What happened in that study?”
“Nothing.” She lied and kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“You are shaking.” Daphne reached out and caught her elbow.
“I am fine.” She was not. She felt like her heart had been flayed open.
“He loves you.” Daphne said it quietly, as if stating a fact that could no longer be disputed. “You know that, do you not?”
“He doesn’t know what he wants.” Nell closed her eyes, her throat aching with the effort not to sob.
“He defended you tonight.” Daphne’s voice took on a strange, wondering quality. “To Mrs. Pemberton and her coven. I heard every word.”
Nell’s eyes flew open, and she turned her head sharply toward her friend. “What?”
“They were saying horrible things.” Daphne continued. “About you. About your children. About where they came from and why you didn’t belong at that ball.”
Nell’s stomach turned to ice.
“And he stopped them. He told them you were worth more than all of them combined. He threatened to ruin them, to make them unwelcome in every home in the county, if they ever spoke your name again.” Daphne shook her head, still processing the scene. “I have never seen anything like it, Nell. He meant every word.”
Nell stared at her, her blood rushing against her ribs. “He defended me?”
“Like God help anyone stupid enough to try it again.” Daphne nodded slowly. “Like anyone who hurt you would have to answer to him personally.”
Nell’s throat closed.
“It doesn’t matter.” She forced the words out, turning back to face the dark road. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Daphne said nothing. She just kept walking.
But the silence gave Nell nowhere to hide. He had told her about Lady Catherine. Plainly, repeatedly, with nothing hidden. And she had chosen not to hear it because believing him meantadmitting she’d been wrong, and being wrong meant she’d thrown away something real.
That night, she lay awake in her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as his voice echoed in the darkness.
Send me away. Marry your doctor. But don’t ever doubt that I love you.
Nell closed her eyes tightly. She’d made the sensible choice; but sensible had never felt so much like breaking.
Twenty
One week.
Seven days had passed since the ball. There’d been seven nights of lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling and hearing his tone echo through the hollow chambers of her chest.don’t say my name like that. Not here. Not when I cannot touch you the way I want to.There’d been seven mornings of dragging herself out of bed before dawn, of kneading dough until her arms ached, and of smiling at customers while something inside her slowly died.
He hadn’t come. He hadn’t sent a word. He hadn’t done any of the things the old Dominic would have done. There were no dramatic appearances at her shop door, no passionate declarations, and no reckless pursuit of a woman who had slapped him and run. She’d told him to stay away. He was staying away.
She should be relieved.
Nell stood at the kitchen table in the grey pre-dawn light, working the dough with mechanical precision. Flour dusted her forearms and clung to the creases of her knuckles. She pressed the heel of her hand into the soft mass, folded it over, turned it, and pressed again. Her shoulders ached. Her back ached.Everything ached, and none of it had anything to do with the labor of baking.
Her hand had stopped tingling days ago. The phantom sensation of his cheek beneath her palm had finally faded, but she still felt the sharp crack of it in her dreams. She still saw the shock in his glacial eyes and the way he’d stood perfectly still while she fled.
The children came down as the sun crept over the horizon. Lily appeared first, her spectacles already crooked and her nightgown trailing behind her; Oliver followed, quieter than usual, watching Nell with eyes that saw far too much.
“Mama.” Lily tugged at her dress, her small face pinched with worry as she looked up. “You’ve been sad all week.”
