His gaze lingered on my high collar. The black fabric covering nearly every inch of skin. Then he snorted.
“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t know it was Halloween already.”
I stared at him flatly.
“You think you could cover any more of your body?”
There it was. The thing men throughout centuries always eventually revealed. Mockery disguised as humor. Cruelty disguised as curiosity.
I considered several possible responses. Most of them involved significantly more homicide than the law allowed.
Suddenly, Conrad was behind me. “What did you just say?”
The delivery man blinked. Conrad stepped onto the porch, shutting the front door so the children wouldn’t overhear. I had never seen this expression on him before. It was cold, controlled, and filled with absolute fury.
The delivery man straightened awkwardly. “I was joking?—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
The man visibly recoiled. Conrad moved closer. “We donotcomment on people’s bodies in this house. Especially not hers.”
My entire brain stopped functioning.
“Sir, I didn’t mean?—”
“You owe her an apology,” Conrad said evenly. “Now. Asshole.”
Oh. Oh my.
Something low in my stomach tightened so suddenly it startled me. Nobody had defended servant girls in the 1800s. Nobody defended governesses. Nobody defended strange women dressed all in black who made people uncomfortable. Historically speaking, women like me were expected to endure humiliation politely and quietly.
And even now, centuries later, I was accustomed to being a curiosity. People stared, joked, and made assumptions. I handled it.
But Conrad?—
Conrad looked genuinely enraged on my behalf.
The delivery man swallowed hard and finally looked at me properly. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded once because speaking had suddenly become impossible. He handed over the packages awkwardly before retreating down the walkway with impressive speed.
Conrad turned toward me, all the anger draining from his expression so fast it gave me whiplash. “Are you all right?”
I realized belatedly I was slightly out of breath from shock and the rush of adrenaline. Also from the deeply alarming epiphany that protective competence was extremely attractive.
“I…” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”
His face tightened slightly. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”
“It’s not the first time.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
God. My undead heart thudded heavily against my ribs. Conrad stepped closer, gentler now.
His hand settled lightly on my arm. “You didn’t deserve that,” he murmured.
I looked up at him, seeing the frustration still lingering in his furrowed brows, the concern. The complete certainty that defending me had been automatic. There had been no hesitation or social calculation. Just immediate outrage on my behalf.
