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“Would you like to return for more skating?” Mr. Tinston asked.

Nell’s hand had been seen to by the doctor, who had been called to tend to another injury.

There was nothing Nell desired less than to watch the earl and Miss Orston skate around the pond, arm in arm, smiling blissfully. Watching them was what had precipitated her fall in the first place.

She could not be angry that they were spending time together; she had refused the earl’s offer of marriage, after all.

But any hope she had harbored that the offer had been born of sentiment as much as duty—as Millie had suggested—had been laid to a wretched, funereal rest. Lord Dalmeer had offered, been refused, and skipped to Miss Orston’s side. Or skated, rather.

It smarted in a way that being abandoned at the inn had not.

History was repeating itself.

Mr. Tinston was polite enough to declare he would remain behind with her, but after Nell insisted several times that she wished to rest before dinner, he finally returned to the pond.

No sooner had he left the morning room than Wesley entered.

“I heard you were injured,” he said, voice full of concern as he hurried to her side.

“Hardly.” She raised her bandaged hand. “A silly moment of thoughtlessness.”

Wesley took a seat beside her, a frown on his brow.

He and Millie had been spending a great deal of time together at Bellthorne Hall. They had been trying to discover the identity of Millie’s secret admirer, but Nell had hoped perhaps something might come of it. If she had not, she would have been tempted to ask Wesley to return home early.

But she would not trade Wesley’s potential happiness to assuage a pain she had brought upon herself.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Wesley asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She smiled. “Yes, very much so.”

He regarded her. “I have done my best not to encroach too much.”

“You have done well,” she said warmly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” he said, though Nell was not certain how genuine the response was.

“I believe we are to play parlor games again tomorrow,” Wesley said. “I hope you will participate this time. I know how much you enjoy them.”

She squeezed his hand with her uninjured one. “You worry far too much over me, Wesley.”

Did he not have reason for it? She shuddered to think what he would feel if he knew what had happened in the conservatory—or that Nell and the earl had been seen.

He would blame himself.

Nell’s only consolation was that, aside from Mr. Fowell, no one seemed to be treating her any differently than before, which led her to think that perhaps no one else knew.

Yet, at least.

She rose. “I think I shall rest for a spell before dinner.”

Wesley nodded. “But you will play parlor games tomorrow?”

She smiled. “I shall play to please you, if nothing else.”

The edge of his mouth lifted, for they both knew that the moment she began playing, she would not wish to stop for any price.

When the women rose to leave the men to their port that evening, Nell was surprised to find Miss Orston waiting at the door that led from the dining room.