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“Ma’am.”

The sound of John’s quiet voice lifted the hairs at her nape, a sensation of mingled anxiety and pleasure.

He was at the threshold with a dinner tray. “May I?”

“Certainly.” Reina glanced up with a bland smile before hastily returning her attention to the list. She fidgeted with the pencil as he brought the tray to the table and set out her divided plate. There were thin slices of beefsteak, a little nest of shredded cabbage, a spoonful of rice pudding with a few red cherries—

She thought of the cherry she’d eaten off his plate at the tertulia, and the way he’d kissed her in the shadows later: deep and slow and hungering. The coiled power of him had surrounded her, all hard muscle and hot pressure, and it had made her feel weak and helpless, yet the pleasure had astonished her, quieting her restless brain into dark, sweet silence. To be held like that, possessed by him, while his mouth had opened hers and he’d tasted her with shameless intimacy . . .

It had left her shaken and famished for more. She hadn’t stopped wanting him since.

She never would.

The gold pencil oscillated in her fingers like a balance wheel. Five swings of the wheel per second for the average mantel clock. Inside a clock, all seconds were the same. Outside it, a few seconds could change everything.

“You’re uneasy.” His voice was low and gentle. “Is there something I can do?”

Reina shook her head without looking up at him. If she did, it might lead to a conversation she wasn’t ready for. “Just a bit preoccupied,” she said casually.

After John had left the room, she forced herself to eat a bite or two of steak and all the rice pudding, and washed it down with a few gulps of sweet, hot tea. She went to replenish her cup at the sideboard and stirred in a lump of sugar.

The sounds of a visitor drifted in from the entrance hall. Was someone paying a call? They couldn’t have missed the black crepe wreath on the front door, and the shuttered windows. Obviously this wasn’t an appropriate time to intrude on the family’s privacy. Well, John would take their calling card and send them on their way.

She took her tea to the table and was about to sit again when John came to the doorway.

“Ma’am,” he said, his face unreadable, “Mr. Farlow is here to offer his condolences. Shall I tell him you’re indisposed?”

Reina stared at him uncertainly. In light of the way things had been left on William’s last visit, seeing him would be awkward. The library still felt like the remains of a battlefield.

On the other hand, she couldn’t turn William away. They had known each other for too long, and he had meant too much to her.

“Show him in,” she said reluctantly.

“Aye, ma’am.”

She straightened her spine and stood by the table, waiting.

In a moment, William appeared at the threshold. In one hand was a small wrapped gift, and in the other, his hat—the sign of a visitor who didn’t intend to stay long. As always, he wore an elegant suit and was perfectly groomed. His expression was apologetic, his eyes warm with affection.

Reina was filled with relief, recognizing the beloved mentor she had always trusted. Here was the man who had always treated her with respect and kindness.

“I’m your old friend William,” he said. “The nice one. Insufferable William stayed home today.”

She smiled and rushed forward to embrace him. “You’re exactly the William I needed to see,” she said against his shoulder. His arms closed around her, and she felt the dry, pleasant brush of his lips on her temple.

“Forgive me for intruding,” he said.

“You could never intrude. Come sit by the fire with me.”

“I’ll only stay for a minute.”

They settled in the club chairs, and William handed her the gift. “For the baby.”

It had been wrapped in a square of silk, fastened by gold wax embossed with a rising falcon clutching a bezant, or gold coin, in each talon. As the nephew of a viscount, William was entitled to use the family crest on wax seals and correspondence.

Reina removed the silk covering from a mahogany box with a tiny latch. Inside, an engraved silver baby cup had been nestled in velvet.

“William, you’re too generous.”