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“I do, and I shall tell you, forhewill undoubtedly appreciate all this, in a fashion I cannot!” He flicked his fingers toward the doorway. “He left not ten minutes past, bound for the offices again.”
After she bid him a swift farewell, she all but ran to the door, only to pause before leaving. The Earl had moved to stand directly in front of the portrait, and while she couldn’t see his face, poignancy radiated from him in waves.
∞∞∞
Nicholas set a signed contract down on Mr. Tate’s desk and accepted some sealed correspondence from him. Hearing his clerk’s intake of breath, he spoke without turning as he walked away. “Not now.”
He stalked to his office. Absent was the satisfaction of having negotiated the favorable new contract for producing railway components this last month, signed today. Also lacking was his usual enthusiasm for pursuing the next commercial goal he’d set for the firm, a plan to add another coke-fueled blast furnace at the foundry.
After closing his door, he sank back against it and tore through the wax seal on the letter. Dawes confirmed that he’d met with Mrs. Gray about the new bank account. Nicholas crumpled the parchment and let it fall to the ground.
With burning eyes, he stared at his desk where his marble rock sat hidden in a drawer. It was no use to him at the moment; it had no comfort to offer. Nothing save a scarlet-haired beauty would lift his spirits.
Alone, finally with a moment to spare, anger exploded within him.
He’d sat at that desk earlier today and read Helen’s news, thinking of the plans he’d made these last few days and what he’d need to do next. Knowing time was of the essence, he had already arranged for the sale of his house and established the bank account beforehand. Today, between his personal business and the firm’s, he had scarcely stood still.
He wasn’t certain that Helen’s pride would even permit her to use the funds; he could only pray that she would. She was young and strong now, but God forbid any illness or mishap fell upon her as she embarked on her new life, she would be alone and in need.
Raw rage coursed through him. Breathing hard, he contemplated the turn his existence had taken this last month. From the first time he and Helen met, he had known two things. She captivated him as no other ever had, and she was determined to resist her own attraction to him.
Was it hubris?he wondered. Had Sideris arrogance led him into this shock and pain by letting him believe their love could prevail? That she wouldn’t be able to leave him, no matter how wounded from the past she was?
I am not with child.
Until reading those words, he had nurtured the hope that whether or not she was expecting, she would come to him and choose to stay. But she hadn’t come to him; she’d only found it within herself to honor the minimum of her promise and notify him.
She thinks you’re as addling as opium. Perhaps she hadn’t trusted herself to withstand their connection if she tried to say goodbye in person.
Most of his temper was focused on the Fates, the very powers that had carried Helen into his life, then changed the current and carried her away. But part of it was aimed at Helen. It hurt she hadn’t believed in his promises enough to stay.
Before he knew it, he was sitting in his desk chair again, though he didn’t remember walking over to it. Within a few minutes, sitting with his head in his hands, the anger was gone, leaving only despair.
When the knock sounded on his door, his brow furrowed. That wasn’t Tate’s distinctiverat-tat-tat.
It can’t be.
But the door opened, and for the second time in his life, the most remarkable person he’d ever met appeared unexpectedly in his establishment of business.
Disrupting everything. Delighting him.
That reaction told him something—everything. Behind his wariness, he was still happy to see her.
Helen paused in the doorway. “You’rehere,” she said, her shoulders softening. Then she rushed to him. His disbelieving legs didn’t work until the last minute, but he stood as she rounded the desk.
She sailed into his arms, and the sensation of her against him—and back in his life, even if fleetingly—stole the breath from his lungs. They melted into each other, their arms wrapped around the other, and they became one.
Perhaps she had come to express gratitude before leaving, to thank him for the funds that gave her liberty. For just a moment, he didn’t care why or for how long she was there. He let himself appreciate her softness against him—something he’d feared he would never again experience.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she said against his neck, then pulled away to look up into his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind about leaving, Nicholas. Is it too late to stay and—”
“God, no,” he said tightly. “It’s not too late.” He cupped her face, searching her gaze.
Tears filled her eyes. “I was so scared—scared to lose the love you’ve given me. To have you turn against me. But what a fool I was to cast aside the very love I was afraid to lose! Can you forgive me?”
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When they opened again, they shone with love—and tears. “Yes.”
“I love you. But I’m likely to be stubborn and foolish in the future at times,” she warned, her face serious.
