He stopped walking. She had taken two more steps before she realized it and turned around.
He was standing on the path, looking at her with an expression she had not seen before, raw at the edges.
I have gone too far.
She opened her mouth—she was not sure what to say—but then turned back to the path. Her foot found the hollow in the ground before she saw it. It was a shallow dip where the path curved, half-hidden by the longer grass at the lake’s edge. Her foot slipped into it at the wrong angle, and she pitched forward.
James’s arm came around from behind her, his hand settling firm and certain on her waist, the momentum interrupted so abruptly that for one disoriented moment, she was not sure what had happened except that the ground was still there and she was still upright and he was very close.
She found her footing.
She did not step away, though she noted he was standing extremely close.
His hand was still on her waist. She became aware of it slowly and then all at once, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric of her dress. Her heart thumped, then kicked into a faster beat.
She turned her head. Just slightly. Just enough.
His face was closer than she had expected, close enough that she saw the exact moment he registered that neither of them had moved. His eyes slid over her face slowly, deliberately.
The argument lingered in the air, unfinished, hanging somewhere above the lake path where they had left it. She could feel it, but she did not care about it.
Say something.Say something ordinary and let the moment end.
He exhaled, and his breath tickled her face, sending goosebumps all over her skin. That jolted her back to reality.
She took a step back, clearing her throat. His hand dropped from her waist as if burned. He stepped back, and the cold evening air immediately flooded into the space between them, as though it had been waiting to be let back in.
She faced forward and looked at the lake. “Thank you.” Her voice was level, which she was absurdly grateful for.
“Uneven ground,” he said.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Are you?—”
“Perfectly fine,” she assured him. “Completely.”
She began walking.
The warmth of his hand lingered on her waist the whole way back to the house, which she tried not to think about.
They came in through the back door to find Mrs. Holt waiting in the corridor. She took one look at Isadora’s flaming cheeks but said nothing, which Isadora was immensely grateful for.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she addressed James. “The Ashfields have sent confirmation of their attendance tomorrow evening, as have the Pembrokes. Colonel Hartley has also sent confirmation along with the note that he will arrive slightly before the hour, as he distrusts the northern road in the dark.”
“Six for dinner, then,” James said.
“Eight, Your Grace. Colonel Hartley is bringing his nephews, who are visiting from Bath. He asks whether this presents any difficulty.”
“None at all.”
Mrs. Holt nodded, satisfied, then turned to Isadora. “Will Your Grace wish to speak with Mrs. Farrow this evening about the menu, or shall I relay your preferences?”
Isadora felt James glance at her. She did not look at him.
“I’ll speak with her myself,” she replied. “After supper.”
