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He dipped his head until a mere two inches separated their mouths.

She hauled her gaze to his.

He wasn’t able to conceal his scorching desire swiftly enough, and she retreated a step.

Too much too soon.

“Pardon. I beg your pardon, my lord.” she said, her voice breathy even as she dared another peek at his mouth. “Acorn quite ruined your cravat, I fear.”

The squirrel scooted farther into her hair, scolding Chester all the while.

Impudent little vermin. Admonishing him when she’d mistaken him for a tree.

Touching his neck, he tried to determine just how many scratches he’d sustained. Something slid down his shirt, landing where the fine lawn was tucked into his trousers. The bread no doubt. Likely why Acorn continued to fuss and fret.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Eden raised one side of a sewing table and set Acorn within. “She’s made herself a nest inside,” she offered by way of explanation.

He cut a speculative glance toward her mother’s room. “I must return to Perygrim to meet with my father’s physician and the bailiff. Please allow me to have the doctor look in on your mother too. At my expense.”

“That’s very gracious of you, but Dr. Munson visited last week and prescribed new medication. I couldn’t possibly permit you to pay in any event. It wouldn’t be proper.”

She straightened a limp needlepoint pillow, the stitching missing in several places and the corners looking to have been nibbled.

The squirrel again? Or other vermin?

“I understand,” he said. “Perhaps later in the week if she hasn’t improved?”

Her mother’s rasping breaths carried into the small entry.

Just how ill was Dulcina Haverden?

“I don’t know where we’ll be in a week.” Despair drove the light from Eden’s eyes.

He had a thought about that. A solution, perhaps. If she were agreeable.

Not entirely respectable, but there were far worse propositions.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through a doorway to what must be the kitchen. A few moments later, she reappeared carrying a small jar of umber colored honey. She handed it to him. “I know I’m a day late, but birthday felicitations to you.”

Such a simple gesture, but something welled in his chest, making speech impossible for a moment. It had been a very long while since he’d received a gift. A very long while, indeed. This jar of glistening honey mightn’t be the most elaborate or costly he’d been given, but it was the most meaningful, because she’d given it out of the goodness and generosity of her heart.

She, who had so little, and was about to lose her home, had thought to remember his birthday. Because she was kind and good and thoughtful.

“Thank you, Eden.”

“You’re welcome.”

Neither did she apologize for the simplicity or humbleness of the gift, and he was glad. That would’ve diminished its specialness.

She’d crossed to stand before one of the windows. Her profile and drooping shoulders revealed the great weight she carried.

Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable, but filled with questions neither dared to ask.

“Eden?”

“You really shouldn’t address me by my given name, my lord. Miss Eden isn’t all that proper, but two Miss Haverdens proved much too confusing. I also wanted to try to lessen my mother’s humiliation.”

“I shouldn’t, I vow, but I like saying your name. I promise to only do so when no one can overhear us. Is that acceptable?” The smile he slashed her wasn’t the least repentant.