He took a step forward and reached for her. She whirled away and laughed. “You must behave, my lord, or you’ll have it where neither of us are welcomed in Society again.”
His gaze swept seductively up and down her face.“There will be no promises about that from me on this afternoon.”
Deciding it was best to leave that subject alone, Brina cleared her throat, pointed, and said, “The sisters set up tables and give out the food there in front of the main entrance.”
“The building is bigger than I thought it was. How many women live there?”
“I don’t know for sure. I never asked. Probably thirty.”
“Are all of them nuns?”
“No. Maybe half. In this abbey, you don’t have to take the vows of the church and join the order to unite with them. But everyone is to follow all their rules. Remaining chaste, participating in prayers, and performing whatever duties you’re assigned without grumblings or rancor. Otherwise, they would be dismissed from the sisterhood.”
“Sounds reasonable,” he commented.
When she showed Zane where the tea and bandages she’d prepared were handed out, Brina noticed the now-familiar cabriolet had stopped in front of a building not far behind them. The driver looked the same, standard black top hat and hunkered down in a black cloak. Though he’d never been close enough she could see his face. It angered her the man continued to follow Zane. He had no right to watch the earl’s every move. She supposed it was a testament to Zane’s willpower that he hadn’t flattened the man.
For a few moments she thought about grabbing Zane’s hand and racing down the street, ducking between buildings with him, much in the way she had imagined racing through underground tunnels when they were in the chateau in Paris. But she then remembered how upset everyone was about the curricle ride, and she pushed the exciting thought of escaping with the earl aside.
There were only a few other people on the street, so Brina started walking and Zane fell in beside her. Three men walked ahead of them and a couple strolled leisurely on the opposite side of the street. The road was free of traffic, except when the cabriolet rolled slowly behind them.
“This building behind the abbey that we’re going to look at, have you checked to see if it is for sale?”
“Yes,” she said confidently as they continued to walk. “It’s not currently available.”
“Perhaps I could put in a good word—”
“No, thank you, my lord,” she said, looking over at him pointedly. “This is my project for the sisters, and I will handle it myself in due time. I’m in no hurry. Besides, Sister Francineisthe type of person who will need to be gently coaxed into seeing that the sisters could make use of a separate chapel for the abbey. Their wants and needs are few and simple, but their service and hearts are pure. I only want to—”
From the corner of her eye, a splash of color caught Brina’s attention. She glanced at the window she was passing. There, displayed in the seamstress shop, was a gown almost the exact shade of the pink costume she wore to the masquerade ball.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 21
The gown was gorgeous.
Brina stopped to stare at it. The round neckline was low but wouldn’t be considered shockingly racy. The high waist and short capped sleeves were banded with beaded velvet ribbon of the same bright shade. The skirt flowed in wispy waves of short, curled flounces trimmed with the same exquisite ribbon. The late afternoon sun was at the right angle to shine on the beading. It sparkled, twinkled, and called to her hidden desire to permanently shed her widow’s weeds and wear something soft and beautifully feminine again.
And then, of all things, she imagined herself dressed in it, walking into a glittering ballroom in London, the skirt swishing from side to side and around her legs with every step.
Toward Zane.
An intense swelling of something she didn’t quite understand filled her chest. Right then, all she wanted himto do was sweep her up into his arms and never let her go.
He smiled reflectively. “That looks like—”
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted him and answered simply. Beautiful as it was, the gown wasn’t something a widow should wear. And it didn’t matter how many fantasies she had about Zane and love and all the rest of it. She would remain a widow.
Brina turned and started walking again. Faster this time, feeling as if she needed to get away from that gown, that color, and Zane. He was making her want things she shouldn’t want, feel things she shouldn’t feel. The all too sudden and real fear that she had already lost her heart to him hit her with such force, she was finding it difficult to manage.
There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t marry again.
Zane easily kept up with her hurried stride. They walked in silence for a few moments before he asked, “Why don’t you want to look at the gown?”
“It’s not for me,” she answered in a clipped tone.
“Why? You looked glorious when you rushed into the room wearing that color in Paris. I remember thinking that fate had an evil sense of humor. Sending in the most beautiful lady I had ever seen, and I was bound to a chair.”
