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Morning light was starting to show outside the long windows, but Fiennes’s eyes were shuttered by long lashes, and she couldn’t read his expression.

“I have so much to do,” she explained numbly. “It would be marvelous if I didn’t have to worry about Fulvia.”

“You cannot move this household to the country by yourself,” Fiennes stated.

Ella blinked at him. “My aunt is in a delicate condition. Fulvia is marrying you. My uncle will consider his part in the arrangements concluded when his valet moves his clothing to his club. Or to a hotel, if one will—”

She whirled around. Her mother’s pearl circlet was no longer on the table. Her uncle would presumably use it to finance his stay in a hotel.

Pain felt as if it might tear her open, but it wouldn’t. It never had before, after all.

“I will help you,” Fiennes said. “Now you need to sleep.”

“No, you will not help,” she said crossly.

“As a member of your family, it is obligatory for me to assist you.” He took her arm.

It would be rude to pull away, so she let him escort her to the entry. Without a word, he started up the stairs. Her limbs leaden with exhaustion, Ella leaned on his arm up those steps, and up the narrow stairway to the attic. Fiennes pushed open the door.

“May I greet Josephina?” he asked.

He stood in the doorframe, his broad shoulders scarcely fitting the narrow entrance. In the dawn light, his face was chiseled without a hint of softness: no dimple, no rounded chin, no pouting bottom lip.

Ella turned around and despite her exhaustion, Fiennes’s betrothal, the horrible aftermath of the ball—her body woke up. Suddenly, the only thing on her mind was the way he kissed her under the stars. Like a fever, heat swept over her.

A rueful gleam lit his eyes. “You are the only woman I know whose face I can read,” he said.

Thankfully, Josephina interrupted him, running from her nest and calling an excited greeting.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, darling,” Ella said, catching up the little squirrel and putting her on her shoulder.

“She looks fatter than she was a week ago,” Fiennes observed, not moving from the doorway.

“That’s why I’m keeping a hand on her. All right, you may enter,” Ella said with a wave of her other hand. “You will be a member of the family, after all.” If her voice was sardonic, it was to be expected.

He had proposed to her.

Fiennes walked in, taking a candied violet from his pocket and putting it on the floor. Josephina squeaked with excitement, so Ella put her down. The squirrel trundled over, grabbed the sweet, and took it away to nibble.

“Where’s Starlight?” Fiennes asked, taking out a sausage that looked as if it came from one of the rolls served at the ball.

“I can’t believe you put a sausage in your pocket!”

Next to the chimney, Starlight’s head popped over the edge of her basket. With one leap, she snatched the sausage from his fingers, flicking his leg with her tail by way of a thank you.

Josephina reappeared and squeaked a command. Fiennes bent over and she trundled onto his palm, more cautiously than she would have a week ago.

“Starlight used to play with her,” Ella told him, “but she seems to realize that Josephina is in a delicate condition.”

Fiennes cuddled the little squirrel against his massive chest, petting her head with one finger. Ella took a deep breath. It was absurd to be so affected by a large man caressing her pet.

Spain, she reminded herself. She was moving to Spain.

“Please don’t bite your lower lip unless you want me to kiss it better, Ella.”

Ella blinked and focused not on Fiennes’s chest but his eyes, which were shining with desire. She hastily backed up a step. “I will never be any man’s mistress!”

He stopped petting Josephina and stared at her with outraged disbelief. “You think that of me?”