Page 8 of Charity

Instead of answering immediately, he crossed the room to sit and regarded her. So far he could see no change to her body that hinted she might be carrying his child. But he had to be sure. Despite the surge of desire sweeping him at the sight of her in his bedchamber again, dressed for bed in familiar white linen, he steeled himself to remain at a distance. But with her hair unbound and lying thick about her shoulders, she was everything he’d ever wanted and more.

“How are you, precious?”

His question appeared to take her off guard. She stared at him a long time. Her gaze flowed over his face. A frown line appeared between her eyes. “Better than you, it would seem. You look dreadful.”

Oscar nodded. He couldn’t explain his weary appearance without telling her what he’d done—what circumstance had forced him to do in the name of friendship.

“Are you unwell?”

“I am very well, but I’ve not been sleeping the best. No doubt there are peas hidden under my mattress.”

Agatha scoffed and rose to her feet. Fearing she was about to bolt, Oscar started to stand, but she closed the distance between them to press her hand to his head, keeping him in place.

“You are no warmer than usual. Does something trouble you?”

Oscar closed his eyes, drinking in the concern in her voice. Her fingers slid into his hair in an intimate caress he’d missed. Oscar shuddered. “Aside from missing you like the devil, what could be wrong?”

Her fingers cupped his jaw and then slipped away. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Agatha resumed her seat, but she sat forward, apparently eager to hear his confession. Was she as starved for the sound of his voice as he was for hers?

No matter the reason, he couldn’t tell her the truth. “I asked you here to speak about you.” Now that the moment had come to ask his question, he was afraid of the answer. “I am most particularly concerned that there might have been consequences from our nights together. A somewhat awkward expectation. You never wrote to me as I asked you to do.”

“Awkward?” Agatha’s face filled with hot color as she understood the significance of his question. “Oh, there are no consequences. I knew that almost immediately.”

Oscar hung his head, filled with deep sadness. In the back of his mind, he’d begun to formulate a plan to set Agatha and the child up somewhere. Somewhere he might visit often. Somewhere with green fields to take picnics upon. As he looked up, Agatha swiped her fingers across her cheeks, brushing away tears.

He dropped to his knees and crawled across the room to pull her into his embrace. Sweeping her hair aside, he pressed his face against the smooth skin of her neck and waited for her to compose herself again.

When she eventually raised her head, Oscar sat beside her, clasping her fingers in his grip. “It’s for the best, then.”

Agatha nodded, but he could tell she didn’t agree. He didn’t believe himself, either.

With her neck exposed to the candlelight, an angry red mark upon her skin was revealed. “You were hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?”

His fingers grazed her skin, then he dropped kisses beside the mark to make her better. For a moment or two, Agatha allowed it, but too soon twisted away from him.

Her eyes, when he met them, were twin pools of pain. “I must return home before Nell frets.”

Oscar let the sight of her fill his vision, let the precious memories of her friendship fill his mind, until his heart settled into a deep, steady rhythm. “I know. How is she?”

Agatha twisted her fingers together nervously. “Quite shocked, I fear.”

“Give her time to come around.” He stood and held out his hand. After a moment, Agatha came to him, let him wrap her in an embrace, and finally let him kiss her as he’d dreamed.

Distance and longing heated the exchange, until they were both grasping for breath and each other. The thin nature of her nightgown proved little barrier to his questing fingers, and he felt every contour, ever delicious dip and sway of her body.

But she had refused him. He wouldn’t seduce her into breaking her word. “Agatha.”

She whimpered, threading her fingers into the waistband of his trousers in a manner that drove him insane. “Yes, Oscar.”

Ignoring the husky quality of her voice, he pressed his lips to her hair. He would not make a mistake tonight and take her to his bed. He couldn’t lie with her again. The risk was simply too great. He would not want to stop. “I’ve not slept with another woman since our first kiss. I want you to know that.”

“If you had, it is no longer my concern.” Agatha sniffed. “Let me go.”

He deserved that, he supposed. But Agatha needed to know the truth from his lips. He should have been honest with her from the start. With an ocean of regret on his shoulders, Oscar led her to the back of his house, lifted her over the railing, and watched her take his heart away.

CHAPTER FOUR