He would safeguard all her secrets.
“You were a child,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
Nin sighed, shrugging. “It kept Alain full. Can’t worry about what I can’t change—crying about it didn’t put food in our bellies.”
Cedric straightened, shifting his body to face her. His expression hardened, but she sensed it wasn’t directed at her, nor the tick in his jaw. An intensity swirled behind his spectacles in his deep, dark eyes.
“They have no idea how strong you are,” he said.
Nin blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. It took her a moment to realize whom he referred to.
She chuckled under her breath. “The court thinks I’m a fool.”
“They are fools.”
A quiet laugh slipped out before she could stop it. She hadn’t expected him to sound so sincere or protective.
The coiled knots in her stomach loosened, and warmth stole through the cracks of her pain.
“They will pay for humiliating you,” he said.
Her smile stretched to her cheeks. The man was entirely too serious. “And how do you suppose you will go about doing that? Challenge them to a duel? You’ll lose your position by the end of the day.”
His voice had gone quieter, rougher somehow. “If it’s necessary.”
Instead of knots, her stomach performed a strange flip at his candid answer. She bit her lip, averting her gaze. “Don’t lose your job on my account,” she said, then after a pause she added, “I still need you…”
Cedric shifted beside her. The heat of his fingers brushed against her hand, and her pulse quickened at his touch. When she peered up at him, the emotion—the sincerity of his expression—sent a strange flutter behind her ribs. She became suddenly aware of how close he was—how alone they were.
“Then I will ensure I stay by your side.”
The moisture fled her mouth when she swallowed, unprepared by the gentleness of his voice. Shepretended not to notice how his proximity pressed against her senses, how hery gaze lingered on his mouth a moment too long.
She averted her eyes and fondled the ruffles on her dress, a slight smile on her lips. She believed him, and she hadn’t been able to believe anyone for many years.
For once, the laughter of the court disappeared.
Chapter fifteen
The ball was in three days' time.
Cedric’s mind should have been on patrols, escape plans, and ballroom security, yet it wandered to the woman he was meant to protect. It had unsettled him how often she slipped into his thoughts—how he desired her company rather than on performing his duties.
He had not forgotten their quiet conversation on the garden bench—how simply she spoke of hardships no child must ever endure. She had survived a world unforgiving to orphans and kept her brother alive through it all, yet never once indulged in self-pity. Days had passed, and he found it increasingly difficult to ignore how remarkable she was.
It wasn’t proper.
However, he scheduled private dance lessons.
Dancing required proximity, which bred familiarity and weakened vigilance.
Cedric had learned that lesson secondhand, from a father who had trusted the wrong man. One careless word had come close to destroying their family’s name.
Cedric would not repeat the past, even if the circumstances differed. His downfall might not come from betrayal, but he refused to be undone by attachment, particularly to a woman he could never have.
The Duval family would object, the nobles would condemn them, and society would ruin them.
Not that he had entertained the thought. Not at all.
