Chapter 9
Two days had passed since the incident in the park. She stopped two paces inside the door.
It was not a conscious decision — her feet simply ceased their forward motion as if the air between them had thickened into something she had to push through.
The study was small, close-quartered, with bookshelves crowding the walls and a single window behind the desk that admitted a column of late-afternoon light.
The light caught the dust that their movements had stirred, turning it to gold, and Hampshire stood within it as if it had been arranged for him.
He had risen from his chair the moment she entered — instinct, not courtesy, she could see it in the abrupt way he pushed back from the desk, the way the chair scraped against the floor, the quill in his hand dropped and forgotten.
His eyes fixed on hers with that intensity she remembered: not a look but a hold, a gravity that drew her forward even as the propriety she had been raised to insisted she remain exactly where she was.
The door was still open behind her. The maid would be standing in the corridor, a nominal chaperone, close enough to hear but not to see. Nora was acutely aware of the distance between herself and David — six feet, perhaps seven — and of how little that distance was.
“Lady Nora.” He spoke formally because the door was open and the maid was near, but his voice was not formal. It had that roughened quality, that catch at the back of the throat, that she heard only when they were close enough for propriety to become a conscious effort.
“Hampshire.” She laced her fingers together, the pressure whitening the skin across her knuckles of her right hand — hard, deliberate, as if she could squeeze out the impulse to cross those remaining six feet and take his hands in hers. “I have come to speak with you about Frederica.”
He nodded. His gaze dropped for a moment to her hands — to the white-knuckled clasp of her fingers — and his expression changed. He understood. He could read the restraint in her body as clearly as she could read the wanting in his.
“Please,” he said, and gestured to the chair before his desk. “Sit.”
She sat. The desk between them was a mercy and a cruelty in equal measure.
“Nora.” He looked away, angry at his own foolishness. He should not return to the same intimacy they had shared – even recently. She had to be ‘Lady Nora’ to him now, despite the tenderness that still wrapped all around his heart.
“Forgive me.” Opening his eyes, he gestured for her to sit down. “Can I bring you some refreshment?”
Lady Nora shook her head. “No, I cannot linger for long. It is only because I have sworn my sister to secrecy that I was able to attend at all. She is in the waiting carriage, and I promised I would not be more than a few minutes.”
Forcing steadiness, David nodded. “Then what is it you came to speak to me about, might I ask?”
Her fingers twisted, her cheeks flushed.
“Yesterday, my sister and I took a walk through the park. My mother was also present, and as we walked, my sister was greeted by Miss Henderson. The three of us walked together until Miss Henderson saw Miss Longleat sitting alone on a bench, some distance from us.”
David felt the floor shift under his feet. Surely it could not be that Miss Longleat had said anything to Nora? It was not as if she knew anything about David’s interest in Nora, not unless her father had mentioned it before he had died.
“Miss Henderson introduced us all.” Lady Nora looked away, the colour in her cheeks fading. “I did not get the impression that she knew anything of our… connection, such as it was.”
“No,” he answered, his voice hoarse no matter how much he tried to strengthen it. “No, I do not think she has ever been told of it.”
Lady Nora sighed sorrowfully, looking up at him with pain sharp in her eyes. “I did not come to speak of that, however. I wanted to ask if you were aware of the fellow who seemed to upset Miss Longleat yesterday afternoon? I would not tell you any more if you already have an understanding of it.”
David blinked. “I do not know what you speak of.”
“There was a man who approached Miss Longleat once we had taken our leave,” she told him, speaking rather quickly now. “I had turned to glance back at her, that was all, only to see him leering over her. He was not overly tall, however, so his face was very close to hers.”
Exhaling slowly, David ran one hand over his face, worry biting into him. “Stocky, then?”
Her fingers curled against her reticule as she nodded. “You know who he is?”
“No, I do not.” Coming around from behind his desk, he made to step closer to her but chose, after a moment, to remain a little further away. The desire to sweep her up into his arms was too great to be denied, should he take even a tiny step nearer. “Might I ask what happened?”
Lady Nora held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away as if to say that simply looking at him was too great a pain to endure.
“He was intimidating, certainly. The way he approached her, she was forced to sit back down on the bench. Then, to my horror, he grasped her arm tightly.” Her brow furrowed.
“I walked back towards her at that juncture. I did not want her to struggle against that fellow alone. She did free her arm from his grip, but when I drew near, she was certainly distressed.”
Cold dread began to creep up David’s spine. “I did not know any of this. Thank you for coming to me, Nora.”
She lifted her gaze, and he was struck by the sadness in her eyes.
“I did not like to see her so distraught, although she did her best to hide it. When I intervened, the man stepped back, and she was clearly relieved at my presence. We walked together for a time before she excused herself and made her way back to the carriage.” A rueful smile touched her lips.
“I thought another gentleman had come to do the very same, but he did not, in the end. She was glad to see him, I think.”
David said nothing for some moments, looking back into her eyes.
“Nora.” Closing his eyes, David let out a slow breath and then inhaled, breathing in the faint scent of lavender that came from the lady before him — the same lavender, the same warm auburn turn of her hair where the afternoon light caught it, exactly as he remembered.
“I cannot help but admire you.” When he opened her eyes, she was shaking her head and looking away, her lips flattening. “You did not have to come to me with this. You chose to.”
“I am concerned for her.” She gave him a tiny smile, sadness creeping into the corners of her eyes. “I do not know her well enough for her to take me into her confidence. Therefore, I thought that you should be informed of what I had witnessed, for her sake.”
He wanted to reach for her and, despite knowing it would do him no good, he took her hand in his and, with a tension running through him, lifted it to his lips.
Her skin was warm, the heat searing him, but he gripped her fingers more tightly, wishing he could do a good deal more.
“Your concern speaks of your heart, Nora.” Looking into her eyes, he saw the dampness there and felt his own heart tear.
“You must know, there has not been a single day when I have not wished that my engagement had not been forced upon me. This was not the life I had intended. It was – it was to be you and I together, bound in love and happiness.”
A single tear fell to her cheek. “And yet, it cannot be.” She wiped away her tear with one finger, her gaze holding fast to his. “Not unless your engagement should end.”
David swallowed thickly, aware that above all else, this was what he desperately hoped for. It was a vain hope, something that he believed would never be fulfilled, and yet it lingered in him all the same.
“You did not ever explain to me the reasons for your engagement.” Lady Nora searched his face, a quiet desperation in her voice.
“What is it that forces your hand, Hampshire? Why is it that you must step away when it is clear to me… ” Dropping her head, she swallowed a sob, the edges eking out towards him.
“It is clear to me that you still have an affection for me, do you not?”
“No, it is not affection.”
Her eyes clung to his.
“It is still love,” he admitted, the confession tearing from him without restraint. “I still love you, Nora. Not a day has passed without the awareness of that love sitting within me. It torments me. It tears at me. But there it stays, and I cannot remove it.”
Another tear fell to her cheek, but she did not move, did not speak. David closed his eyes, his breathing ragged.
“My late uncle demanded this,” he said, hoarsely.
“If I did not marry her, then she would receive no fortune or dowry. There were other restrictions on what I would be able to do by way of assisting her. In short, he threatened her happiness, her contentment, and her future. I had no choice. My duty and my responsibility must be to her and to the family line.” With unwillingness, he smoothed away the tear from her cheek.
“We cannot ever have a future, Nora, not when this demand is set upon my shoulders. You must find another. You must – ”
“Is there no way to change this demand?”
The fervency of her words hit him sharply, one after another.
“Is there nothing that can be done to bring an end to your engagement? You are not married yet, Hampshire, and if what you told me was true and if you know what I feel for you, then is there nothing that can be done? Have you looked at every path? Turned over every stone? Spoken with every person you can think of as to find a way through?”
He swallowed hard, aware that he had not done such a thing as yet. “It is a codicil in my uncle’s will.” A will that has not yet been read. Frowning, he bit his lip, seeing the hope that began to shine in Lady Nora’s face. “I have not yet had the will read, however, at the behest of Frederica.”
“Then surely you must think to have it read at once,” Lady Nora suggested, taking a step closer to him and sending a fresh awareness of her nearness into his veins.
“You must know for certain that this is required of you. You must see the codicil, make sure that all is just as was said to you, must you not?”
It was not a thought that David had ever had. He had accepted his uncle’s word without pause.
But what if he had been wrong?
“I had never thought to question it,” he admitted, as the colour returned to her face.
“My uncle was so furious in his convictions, I believed it all to be just as he had said.” With a sense of hope beginning to press into his senses, David drew in a deep breath.
“I will go to speak with my solicitors. I will have them look at the will and at the codicils with the intention of having it read very soon indeed.” For a moment, he wondered what Frederica might say to this and, imagining the shock in her expression, felt a heavy weight sinking into his heart.
“I would still be responsible for Frederica, however.”
“But that does not mean you will have to wed her,” Lady Nora whispered, fresh tears in her eyes but a light smile on her face. “There may be a flickering hope here yet.”
“A small hope,” he said, as gently as he could. “But yes, I suppose that there is.”