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But he did not want her. She evoked no emotion in him at all.
Which made her the perfect candidate for his wife.
A little yelp nearby brought his head around, and he found its source just in time to watch Freddie fall flat on the ice. Half-laughing, half-concerned, his wife helped him to his feet. Freddie tried to get up, but the result was that he brought her down along with them. They stayed seated on the ice, their heads thrown back in shared laughter.
Archie looked away, annoyed at the pang of envy the interaction shot through his chest. “Shall we try something a bit daring, Miss Orston?”
“Daring?”
“Perhaps something like this.” He turned suddenly so that he was skating backwards in front of her.
She laughed, watching his skates, mesmerized. “Donning ice skates is as daring as I shall be today.”
Archie chuckled but could not help thinking that Nell would have made the attempt if he had asked. She might have fallen, and he would have been obliged to catch her and hold her close until she regained her balance. She would have smelled of violets.
It would have been terrible.
A dull, ordinary skate on the ice with Miss Orston was precisely what he needed.
Just then, Nell wobbled, stretched out her arms in an attempt to regain equilibrium, and fell to the ice.
Once Tinston noticed, he tried to turn, which sent him into a chaotic sequence of slipping and twisting until he too fell.
Nell reached for her ankle and winced.
“Excuse me for one moment,” Archie said, ensuring Miss Orston was safely upright before he left. He skated over as fast as he could without becoming the next victim of gravity, cutting into the ice to stop when he was but a few feet from Nell.
One of her skates lay on the ice, detached from her boot, and she held her right hand.
“Are you hurt?” Archie lowered himself beside her.
There was a gash through her glove, and a glint of red beneath it.
Nell glanced up at him, her hazel eyes fixing on his. She blinked and looked down at her hand. “A minor scrape is all.”
“It cut through your glove, Ne—” Archie stopped himself. “Miss Prescott. Unless you mean to tell me that it is holly berry juice. Come. I shall help you inside so the wound can be seen to.”
Nell met his gaze again, teetering between assent and refusal.
“Are you hurt, Miss Prescott?” Miss Orston arrived on less-than-sure skates, and Archie was obliged to grasp her by the arm to keep her from falling on top of Nell. “Good heavens! Forgive me—I nearly collided with you. Thank you, my lord. But are you hurt, Miss Prescott?”
Nell’s eyes flitted to Archie’s hold on Miss Orston and the way Miss Orston’s hand rested on his shoulder for stability. “Only a bit. My skate strap is broken and I stupidly cut myself trying to fix it. It is quite all right, though. I shall just—” She pushed herself up, but Archie could not assist her without letting go of Miss Orston.
Nell managed it, and by the time she was on her feet—one with an ice skate, the other with only a boot—Mr. Tinston had returned, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping her off the ice and back to Bellthorne.
Archie gritted his teeth and smiled determinedly, thanking the man for his services.
As he watched the two of them make their unsteady way to the edge of the pond, jealousy and regret mingled in his chest. The last time Nell had injured herself, she had allowed him to carry her in his arms.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
A lifetime he wished to return to.
He rose to his feet and smiled at Miss Orston. “Shall we continue?”
Nineteen
NELL
