“And you survived?”
“I did,” he said. “So did she, though for a moment…”
“You sound as though the danger was not the crowd.”
“It was not,” he said.
She tilted her head.
“Then what was it?”
“The temptation to forget where we were.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“And did you forget?”
“No,” he said. “I remembered. Constantly. It was dreadful.”
She watched him for a long moment.
“That is not the same as being untouched by it.”
He did not argue. She rose and crossed to the window, adjusting the curtain as he was certain she had done several times in that hour alone.
“I am glad you were seen with her,” she said. “She will need the protection of being known.”
“That was the intention,” he said.
“And is that all?” she asked.
Nathaniel looked at his nephew, breathing slow and even. The steady rise and fall of the boy’s chest anchored him in the room, in the present. Miss Fairleigh was not the only person in need of his protection, and he had to remember that.
“No,” he said. “It is not all.”
His sister nodded, as if that answer had been expected.
“Then be careful. Not with the world, but with her.”
“I am careful,” he said.
“And be careful with yourself as well.”
He stood. That was something that he could not agree to as readily.
“He will mend,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“Yes,” she said. “And so will you, if you let it.”
Nathaniel paused at the door and looked back once more at the bed. The boy stirred and settled again. The room smelled of clean linen and warm broth.
“Have you given any thought to my suggestion?”
“That I marry? No, and I shall not. You, on the other hand, ought to remember that you have another lady in your life now.”
“Believe me, I have not forgotten. I am to see her again tomorrow, in a tea shop.”
“Then you should return home, so that you can have adequate sleep beforehand.”
