Page 38 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘Because I invited Lady Weber to my salon.’

A pause. Then he chuckled softly, brushing a knuckle over her gloved hand. ‘Then I suppose she’ll learn a thing or two. Perhaps about seashells. And perhaps about you.’

Nora adjusted the brass screws delicately, her fingers steady as she brought the mollusk into sharp focus beneath the microscope’s polished lens. Her mind grasped what she observed. The slide revealed a world invisible to the naked eye. She marveled at an intricate lattice of shell and membrane, spiraling in perfect, fragile symmetry. The microscope magnified the specimen four hundred times its size. Her breath caught slightly as she studied it. For such a tiny specimen, it was fascinatingly complex.

A voice, low and unexpectedly near, broke through her concentration.

‘What do you see?’

Startled, she straightened, one hand still resting on the table. She hadn’t heard the door open. Turning, she found Ralston leaning against the door-frame. Her pulse quickened. For such a large man, he moved silently. How long had he been watching her?

‘You startled me,’ she said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly as she stepped away from the microscope. ‘It’s a mollusk. Would you like to see?’

‘Yes. I admit I’m curious.’ He stepped forward to stand beside her. His scent, a pleasant sandalwood and linen, was warm and clean and entirely male. His sleeve brushed hers, and she found herself stealing glimpses of his profile.

She moved aside and gestured to the scope, her fingers briefly grazing his as she showed him the adjustment screw. The contact, however brief, made her breath catch. She shouldn’t like it as much as she did.

She cleared her throat. ‘This one came from a shell I found on the Cornwall coast,’ she explained. ‘Look closely. You can see the internal structure.’

He bent to the eyepiece. She watched him as he concentrated. His brows narrowed slightly and his mouth curled in subtle surprise.

‘Interesting! It looks nothing like it does with the naked eye,’ he murmured.

‘That’s what I love about it. Microscopes have benefited from the manufacture of high-quality lenses. I’ve always wanted one.’ She was grateful for his generosity. She’d never had the benefit of using one and had never been able to afford one on her own. It was thrilling and she’d marveled over the device ever since she’d opened the wooden box and removed it. She wondered if she’d ever get over her fascination. She’d been fortunate to get one so swiftly and he hadn’t protested the cost.

He looked away from the microscope to glance at the tidy row of slides she’d prepared with interest. ‘What else can you put under here?’

‘Many things,’ she said. ‘But preparing the specimens for viewing is the true art. It makes the difference between seeing something of interest or nothing at all. Just blur and shadow.’

She slipped a new slide beneath the lens and stepped back. ‘Here. Look at this.’

He bent to the microscope again.

‘What is it?’

‘An eyelash.’

Looking into the eyepiece, his voice was muffled. ‘Yours?’

‘Yes.’

He was focused on the slide. ‘It’s oddly elegant.’

‘Even the smallest parts of us are more than they seem,’ she said.

He looked up slowly, his gaze resting on her face with a intensity. ‘And to think,’ he said, voice quiet, ‘I came here to show you something.’

His look and nearness made her senses spin. ‘Now I’m curious.’ Her voice sounded shaky to her ears.

He smiled broadly and her heart thumped an irregular beat. He suddenly appeared like a cat with a bowl of cream, and she was curious. What was on his mind?

‘Come along and I’ll show you.’ He extended his arm. Was he taking her outside? She felt like a breathless girl of eighteen, and she hesitated only a moment before resting her hand lightly on the fabric of his coat. Beneath his sleeve, she could feel his warmth and solid strength. He did not move immediately, only looked down at where her fingers touched his sleeve. Then, as if recalling himself, he guided her from the room.

They walked in silence down the corridor. When they reached the end of the hall, he paused before a door she did not recognize. He opened it and stepped aside to let her enter first.

It was a modest chamber, plain, yet clean and well-appointed. A bed stood against one wall, a chest of drawers beside it. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and oiled wood. Clearly, it was not occupied.

She turned to him, brows drawing together. ‘What is this place?’