Oliver coughed into his hand. Nell narrowed her eyes at him.
“Can we get sweets?” Lily grabbed her brother’s arm, already tugging him toward the nearest vendor. “Please? I saw honey cakes. I love honey cakes.”
“Go on.” Nell sighed, recognizing a losing battle. “Stay together. Don’t wander off.”
“We won’t.” Lily was already pulling Oliver into the crowd. “Promise!”
They disappeared, their giggling trailing behind them. Nell stood alone in the middle of the carnival, surrounded by villagers and lantern light.
It was all so normal. So why did she feel as though the very air hummed before a storm?
“Nell.” Daphne appeared at her elbow, materializing out of the crowd. Her grin was even wider than Lily’s had been. “You look lovely.”
“You too.” Nell frowned at her friend, suspicious of everyone now. “You are smiling.”
“I smile sometimes.” Daphne smoothed her own bodice, her eyes darting toward the center of the square.
“Not like that.” Nell’s eyes narrowed further. “You know something.”
“I know many things.” Daphne linked their arms together, steering Nell through the crowd with determined cheerfulness. “Come. Let us walk.”
“Daphne...” Nell tried to slow her pace.
“Look, there’s Mrs. Potts. Wave to Mrs. Potts.” Daphne urged, lifting her own hand.
Nell waved automatically, still trying to figure out the mystery. Everyone she passed seemed to be smiling at her, like they were all participants in a secret she’d yet to be told.
There was Lady Philippa, standing near the cider vendor with her silver hair gleaming in the lantern light. She caught Nell’s eye and offered a warm, encouraging smile that appeared slightly tearful. Nearby stood Lady Catherine, and beside her a tall man Nell did not recognise — lean and fair-haired, with an easy grin fixed on the stage like a boy at a puppet show. Both of them watched Nell with expressions of pure anticipation. Even Edmund hovered at the edge of the crowd, his kind face neutral but his eyes gentle as they met hers.
“Daphne.” Nell stopped walking and gripped her friend’s sleeve. “What is going on?”
“Look.” Daphne simply nodded toward the small stage where the musicians had been playing.
The music had stopped. Dominic was climbing onto the platform.
Nell’s heart seized in her chest. It forgot how to beat. She forgot everything except the sight of him. He looked tall and broad in his dark coat, the fading bruise at his temple barely visible in the golden light. He stood at the center of the stage and scanned the crowd until he found her.
Their eyes met, and he smiled. It was the smile that transformed his face, making him look young and hopeful, nothing like the brooding viscount he often pretended to be.
“What is he doing?” Nell’s voice came out strangled as she pressed a hand to her throat.
“Just watch.” Daphne squeezed her arm firmly. “Trust me.”
“If you will indulge me.” Dominic’s voice carried across the square, cutting through the murmur of the crowd.
He waited as the village fell silent, faces turning toward their viscount with looks of curiosity and concern.
“I have an announcement.” He cast the words to the furthest reaches of the square, his posture commanding and tall.
Whispers rippled through the gathered neighbors. Mrs. Pemberton, stationed near the front, began to fan herself with theatrical vigor.
“Some of you know that I recently had an accident.” Dominic touched his temple where the mark was fading. “A stupid thing. A spooked horse. It was my own fault for riding in a storm.”
Murmurs of sympathy rose from the villagers. Nell’s hands were shaking, but she pressed them flat against her silk skirt, trying to anchor herself.
“What you may not know...” Dominic paused, his eyes locking onto hers across the sea of faces with a sudden, searing intensity. “…is that during my recovery, I had a visitor. Someone who sat by my bedside all night. Someone who held my hand and told me she loved me when she thought I couldn’t hear.”
Oh God.
