Louise didn’t think she’d ever been more embarrassed. Not even that long ago incident at the musicale could trump the mortification of knowing she might as well have been standing naked before Mr. Berkly for all the chemise concealed. Hence her reason for turning into his arms – because she’d hoped to use him as a means by which to shield herself to some degree.
Idiot.
He probably thought her a wanton now. Either that or a woman devoid of her mental faculties. In any event, he’d clearly struggled to deal with her monumentalfaux pas. And had revealed a complete lack of interest in her. After all, they’d practically been sandwiched together, so if he felt even half the attraction she felt for him, surely he would have kissed her. At the very least.
Instead, he’d unceremoniously dumped her nightgown over her head, gotten her back into bed, and pulled her blankets all the way up to her chin.
“I received a letter,” he said, his voice serious. “It’s in German, so I was hoping you might be willing to help me translate.”
“Of course.” It would be a relief to focus on something besides the events that had just taken place in this room and from the disappointment she felt over his apparent disinterest in ravishing her. “Try reading it to me.”
He began, sounding out the words as best he could. On numerous occasions she had to ask him to stop and repeat the ones he mispronounced so she could attempt to decipher them. It took time. The letter began with a lengthy description of Mr. Von Gräfe’s medical achievements, followed by an outline of his current research, but they eventually managed to reach the core of the matter it addressed.
“From what I gather, he would like to exchange knowledge,” Louise said.
Mr. Berkly was silent a moment, then he said, “I can scarcely believe a man of his renown has even heard of me. That he would ask me to share the details of my surgeries, my findings, and my opinions with regard to operations on the eye is an honor.”
“You ought not be surprised.” Never in her life had she known someone like Mr. Berkly – a man who excelled in his field without seeking praise or expecting attention. His modesty was second to none, and she liked him all the better for it. “Would you like me to help you write a reply?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be most grateful.”
She almost laughed. After she’d dragged him away from his home and his work, forcing him to relocate for a month, he worriedhemight be givinghertoo much trouble? Preposterous. “Fetch some writing materials, Mr. Berkly. You can tell me what you wish to say, and I’ll dictate it back to you with each word spelled out in full.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The chair he’d been using scraped the floor as he stood.
Louise sighed. She wished he would be more familiar with her. Briefly, she thought of giving him leave to use her given name, then changed her mind. What was the point, after all? If he’d wanted more from her than friendship, he would have kissed her when he’d had the chance. But he hadn’t, and she would be foolish to try and push for something he didn’t want.
“Can you please give me the black veil you agreed to let Lady Louise borrow?” Marcus asked Mrs. Winterly five days later during breakfast. “I believe she’s ready to venture outside.”
“I’m sure she might start scratching at the walls if she stays in that bed any longer,” Mr. Winterly said. He sipped his coffee while Marcus finished his food. “I worry this experience has been psychologically taxing for her. This past week her spirits have seemed considerably dimmed.”
Marcus had noticed this too, but he wasn’t sure it had much to do with her confinement. Or at least, being immobile wasn’t the only cause. In fact, he was fairly certain he could pinpoint the precise moment when her mood had shifted. It had happened immediately after their brief quarrel, when he had refused to return to the close relationship they had begun developing since they’d first met. And it had gotten worse after their interlude in her bedchamber.
Refusing to take what she’d seemed too willing to give would be one of the greatest regrets of his life. He knew this with certainty, but he also knew walking away was for the best. He and Lady Louise were on two separate paths that had briefly intersected. It was imperative he not lose sight of that for both their sakes.
“Fresh air will help,” Marcus told Mr. Winterly.
He didn’t miss the look the older couple shared before Mrs. Winterly offered him a bright smile. It suggested she knew he denied the truth but preferred to pretend otherwise rather than call him on it. “I’ll fetch the veil for you as soon as we’re done eating.”
Less than one hour later, Marcus stood outside Lady Louise’s open bedchamber door, feeling much like a green lad unsure of how to approach a girl. His stomach had tied itself into an unpleasant knot while his heart thumped about like a caged wild animal seeking its freedom.
You can do this.
So what if he liked her more than he ought or if restoring her eyesight successfully mattered more to him than it had with any other patient before? It wouldn’t change anything.
He took a steadying breath and prepared to announce his arrival with a knock and a greeting, when she spoke instead.
“It’s really not fair.” Her voice was soft and slightly disgruntled.
Marcus frowned. Had she sensed his presence and started addressing him? He peered around the doorframe to where she lay, arms crossed and with a decidedly unhappy slant to her lips. A wash of heat unfurled inside him. How long had he wanted to kiss her?
For the past few days? A couple of weeks? Since the moment they’d met?
He’d no idea. The desire was so entrenched it felt like it had always been there.
“I’ve loved Mr. Fairbanks for years,” Lady Louise whispered. “He has always been the man I dreamed of one day marrying.”
Certain she must be talking to herself and had not meant for him to hear this, Marcus cleared his throat and knocked even as his heart drew back in pain. Nigel was a perfectly turned out gentleman and the heir to an earldom. He had been Marcus’s friend once and although Marcus knew Nigel did not harbor a tendre for Lady Louise and would only marry her if he believed the match would benefit him in some way, he’d treat her well. More than that, Grasmere would approve, he’d give the couple his blessing, and Lady Louise’s status within society would be secured.
