I knew what he was doing with his teasing—distracting me from my wayward thoughts—but I was eager to be distracted. “Deal.”
Atlas cut a wedge of cheese and slathered jam across one slice and set up our faire. “I would bring this all to the table, but I worry we will wake the servants.” He eyed the counter. “I have another idea.” He cleared the counter of any crumbs and came and stood directly in front of me. “May I?”
“May you what?”
His answer came in the form of putting his hands on my waist and lifting me up in the air. I gasped, only to be set down a half a second later on the counter. Then Atlas proceeded to sit down beside me, with only two squares of bread between us and a bit of cheese.
He grinned. “What do you think?”
I shook my head. “I think you should give me the bread and jam and eat your own cheese.”
He wagged his finger. Then he picked up the bread with the jam on it and took a large bite. “Mmmm.”
Two could play at that game. I lifted the cheese wedge and sunk my teeth into it, making my own sounds of pleasure.
He playfully gasped, making me laugh and choke on the cheese. He reached over and patted my back. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I plopped a piece of bread in my mouth to prove my words true.
For a moment, we ate in companionable silence. That is until a subject burned on my tongue.
“I think your cottage hospital investment is brilliant.”
Atlas lowered the last bite of bread from his mouth. “You do?”
“Of course. The hospitals in this country are overflowing . . . especially since the potato blight and the flood of immigrants.” I had meant to show him how impressed I was, and I regretted bringing the Irish into it.
“Indeed, no one can keep up with the incoming patients. Every person deserves medical care.”
Every person. He had included the Irish. My heart bloomed like an eager bud under his words.
“Here in the country,” he continued, “we must wait hours for a single man to ride long routes to reach us.”
I thought of Mr. Long and his intended place at the deadhouse. “It could be the difference between life and death,” I breathed. “The fact of the matter is, we need far more hospitals than we have.”
His whole gaze softened. “You are right. You are absolutely right. Even if it means a great deal of money and sacrifice from my family to continue.”
I set my hand on his arm. “You will save lives. You cannot put a price on what that is worth. Though, the most admirable part is not the money given but the courage to act.”
He stared at the bread crust in his hand. “No one has ever had reason to call me courageous. Not to disappoint you, but Lord Camden is not a very impressive man.” His gaze met mine, full of self-loathing and pain.
I had no knowledge of what had caused him to feel such sorrow and remorse. I could only judge the part of the man I knew. And that part was quite noteworthy. He cared for his family—and since I had only known neglect these past years, I valued that quality highly. And had he not turned away from temptation when he removed himself from his friends and their wasteful living? Not only this, but he was actively seeking to aid his community. Through all of this, he had been kind to a woman passing by, in need of employment.
And he calledmeperfect.
If he only knew. I was unimpressive. A disappointment to my family. A coward. I had been for a long time—trying to please everyone, running away when I was scared, and keeping secrets from the people I cared about. Seeing Atlas hurting pushed away any thoughts of myself and made me brave. Reaching up, I set my hand on his cheek.
He startled. But bless him, he did not pull back in revulsion. My bravery wavered in the moment, but the warmth of his skin slowly eased the millions of fears telling me to pull away. With the pad of my thumb, I stroked the soft skin of his upper cheek, down to the barely perceptible scruff from his dinner shave. “I think . . . I think, Lord Camden, that you are the very best man I know.”
I did pull back then, but Atlas stopped me. He covered my hand with his own and leaned toward me. There was no food or barrier to cross, and he effortlessly closed the remaining space.
My eyes fell to his mouth. He was going to kiss me. And I wanted nothing more.
Chapter 29
Atlas
Estelle’s soft smile was like a pink ribbon curling perfectly across her porcelain skin. My free hand went to her shoulder, and I tilted my head, eager to capture her alluring mouth with my own. Her words had eased the pain I carried like a healing balm. There was nothing I wanted more than to tell her what it meant to me.
