Page 102 of The Marriage Method

“No, sir,” Gladys replied. “She’s in the guest room, with the new cat.”

Miles felt an unmistakable surge of relief. For a moment—

Stupid.

Nell wouldn’t have left him. They were growing closer every day. Even after Miles had dealt with Silas, she had—by some miracle—understood. She had stroked his hair, and bandaged his bleeding knuckles. He’d carried her to her bed afterward, kissing her softly before retiring to his own. It had seemed to him that they’d parted on the best of terms.

He walked down the hall to the door of the guest room where Shadow had been safely ensconced since last week. He entered quietly.

It was a modestly sized chamber, furnished with a canopied bed, a chest of drawers, a small walnut secretary desk, and several comfortable chairs. Nell was seated in one of them, her arm still in its sling. She wore a loose-fitting brown dress.

Miles’s mouth hitched. “Making progress?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.

Nell didn’t smile in return. “Remarkably so.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “Shadow darted beneath the bed the instant she heard me open the door?”

“She did.”

“Sorry for that. I’m afraid I couldn’t wait. I have something for you.” He lifted the portfolio. “The architectural plans for Northwick Hall. As requested.”

Nell gave him an unfathomable look. “I have something for you as well.”

Rising from her seat, she went to the secretary. He belatedly registered that the writing surface had been opened on its hinges. Papers were laid out across it.

“Do you recognize these?” she asked.

Miles set aside the portfolio and joined her at the secretary. His heart stopped as he skimmed the pages. They were his notes about Miss Corvus’s Academy. “You went into my desk.”

It was the absolute wrong thing to say.

Nell’s gray eyes hardened to flint. “I wasn’t prying into your affairs, if that’s what you mean.”

“It isn’t—”

“I was searching for paper to write a note to Reverend Pettiman—”

“What?”

“To invite him to visit us.”

“Why the devil—?”

“Mrs. Royce called this morning. She told me that Pettiman’s been stoking the scandal over our marriage, because the banns weren’t called and because there was no formal announcement in the papers. Miss Corvus suggests we invite him here in hopes of finally putting his concerns to rest. Which we must do somehow or else I’ll never be permitted to return home.”

Miles froze. It seemed for a moment that the ground shifted beneath his feet. “What do you mean return home?”

“To my life at the Academy,” Nell said hotly. “To teach. To live. To be with the people who actually care about me.”

His stomach sank. She’d mentioned something of the sort when he’d proposed to her. Of resuming her duties as a teacher once the scandal died down. But she’d said nothing about returning to the Academy to live.

Is this what she’d been planning all along? To abandon him at the first opportunity?

The realization turned Miles’s blood to ice.

“That’s why I went into your desk,” she said. “Imagine my surprise when I chanced upon your treatise about Miss Corvus, our graduates, our curriculum, and everything else that you’ve been—”

“It’s not what you think,” he said.