And that petrified her more than anything.
More than Rafferty.
More than his uncle.
They could fight and defeat them.
She couldn’t fight and defeatthis.
She’d spent years overcoming the vacancy inside her. Filled it with friendship, independence, and acceptance. To feel this warmth, real, bone-deep warmth, again was dangerous. It tempted her to forget why she’d kept her heart guarded in the first place.
She couldn’t afford to melt. Not for charm. Not for comfort. Not even for a man who made her believe, for one impossible second, that she no longer had to count only on herself for her future anymore.
Her pulse slowed as she forced her gaze away from him. She’d overcome far more than this. She merely had to find a way to stand strong.
Had he gonetoo far calling herwife?
He must have, for her withdrawal was swift, tangible. He felt it to the marrow of his bones.
Bishop, you fool.
She’d cautioned him time and time again, but he’d continued to push her boundaries since she allowed it. This wasn’t like her usual retreat, those half-hearted scolds, the narrowing of her eyes that always promised she’d forgive him the moment he made her laugh again. No, this time she’d drawn back fully. And that stung in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.
Was it because they weren’t alone? Because she needed to play the part of indifference before their friends? Perhaps. But something told him it wasn’t just that. She wasn’t pretending. Not this time.
She wasn’t ready to trust him.
Trust. Such a devilish little word. Too delicate to demand, too precious to lose. Every step forward felt like testing the ice on a half-frozen lake. One wrong shift, and he’d plunge through.
Still, damn him, he couldn’t stop trying. Every look, every soft word, every teasing nudge was a battle to prove he meant more to her than she cared to admit. And yet, the more he reached for her, the more she seemed to slip through his fingers even though she didn’t always push him away.
That wasn’t enough for him to stop fighting.
“How was the ride though Hyde Park?” Knox asked, settling into a chair.
Bishop shot his friend a curse through his eyes.
“There were unsavory characters out today,” Alyssia said before Bishop could change the subject.
Knox arched a brow.
He should have gotten something stronger than ale to drink. “My uncle.”
“Didn’t you pay him a visit already?” Knox asked, brows furrowing.
Bishop nodded. “Seems he is still eager to keep up appearances.”
“Shameless!” Lady Annabelle exclaimed. “And not in the good way.”
“This might be troublesome,” Knox said. “He might be ready to claim you an imposter.”
Bishop’s fingers tightened around his tankard. “He’d be a fool to try.”
“Fools with perceived titles have done worse,” Knox replied dryly. “And he’s had twelve years to weave his story into society’s good graces.”
“Would they believe him?” Alyssia asked, concerned.
“I shall vouch for you,” Lady Annabelle said. “So shall my family.”
