Hang it. Harrison should have kept his desires to himself.

  She’d just left a toxic and abusive relationship. Lydia needed time to heal not only physically but mentally and emotionally.

  God, he was a selfish bastard.

  What possessed him to speak so? Reveal his true feelings?

  Hell, he was well-versed in hiding his emotions in most situations. Lydia broke apart all the barriers—the ones he’d spent years building.

  “Forget I said that—any of it. I cannot believe I even suggested an affair. Chalk it up to the inane utterings of an arrogant, entitled peer. Again, I offer my deepest apologies.” Harrison stood. “I must take my leave. I’ve had numerous appointments this afternoon. I’ll return for dinner at seven. Will you join me?”

  “Yes.”

  Lydia answered in a firm voice, no trembling or fluttering that he could see or hear.

  Embarrassed, he gave her a stiff bow and exited the room before he made a further fool of himself. As he rushed outside, he laid a hand against his cheek. The skin burned red-hot. Anger for showing his vulnerable side, and damn it all, he did have one. Harrison caught a hansom cab and instructed the driver to take him to The Red Lion pub.

  Waiting for him in the corner booth were Sam and William Robins. Harrison slid across the seat, a pint of bitter already sitting on the table for him. He needed the libation after that awkward conversation with Lydia.

  During the short journey, he arranged his features into detached indifference. In other words, the bored look of a peer.

  “I ordered the pies,” Sam said. “William has brought me up to date. Quite the tale.”

  “Yes, quite.”

  Harrison was still annoyed by his conversation with Lydia and answered Sam a little too sharply. His friend, who knew him well, wisely let it pass.

  “Well? The remainder of your report, Mr. Robins?”

  The man’s battered notebook sat on the table before him. “Regarding Lydia Chesterton: her reputation at St. Thomas is stellar. I discovered that she was being discussed for promotion to an operating theater nurse. Before they could formally offer the position, she disappeared. As far as I could glean, she was a private person. No one knew of her personal life. I investigated her previous address, and she lived there with her widower schoolmaster father until his death. Everything that she relayed to you is the truth.”

  Harrison was silently relieved. He wouldn’t have proposed an affair with a woman he didn’t trust, but it was gratifying to learn his judgment of her character was not misplaced.

  “Thank you, Mr. Robins, for your due diligence. Keep your surveillance on Huntsford.” Harrison took a long draw on his pint.

  “Don’t thank me yet, my lord. I regret to inform you that the surveillance may have been compromised. I admonish myself for using a new employee. The young man believes an unknown person followed him but cannot be sure. You may want to remain cautious. I can place a man on you to see that you are not being followed. No extra charge, of course.”

  Harrison’s blood boiled at a dangerous heat. Damn it all. This man was supposed to be one of the best.

  Sliding his gaze to Sam, his annoyance grew. He’d hired this man at his friend’s recommendation. Sam gave him a sheepish, apologetic look.

  “You’re annoyed, my lord, and I don’t blame you. I assure you that my work is usually not this slipshod.” Mr. Robins looked contrite.

  “Followed where, exactly?”

  “Again, my man is not certain.”

  Harrison pushed the pint away from him. He didn’t like the sounds of this. Not at all. He glanced about the boisterous pub. There were clusters of men sitting at tables and standing at the bar. Any one of them could be Huntsford or someone he hired.

  “You’ve seen Huntsford, have you not?” he asked Robins.

  “From a distance. The man is not here. I checked. Nor was I followed. I’m quite skilled at throwing off the scent. The man is six feet in height, lean, brown hair, longish, here to the collar.” Robins pointed to the collar of his coat. “A rumpled appearance, often unshaven. Sometimes wears spectacles, sometimes not. He is good-looking enough to attract women but has a hard way about him. A cruel slant to his mouth. Altogether unsavory.”

  Harrison knew the type. Malicious to the core, cold-hearted. Caring only for their comforts.

  How Lydia could give her heart to such a man—usually, these men were charm incarnate until they got what they wanted.

  A barmaid delivered the pies to the table, and Harrison turned his attention to his meal. Could this Huntsford be dangerous? Or, like most of these men, making threats without following them through?

  Best to remain cautious.

  Across the pub, a man with a beard sat nursing a pint while closely watching them. Harrison glared at him in return. Hard to ascertain his hair color as he wore a cap, though the beard was black. The man looked away. Was he being paranoid? Yes, vigilance would be prudent.

  Harrison cut into his pie. “Have a man watch my residence and follow my movements.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will undertake some of the surveillance personally.”

  A roll of unease blazed through Harrison. Along with the undeniable urge to protect Lydia at all costs.

  And by God, he would.

  * * *

  Four days later, feeling much recovered, Lydia sat in Harrison’s study at his large oak desk, pen and paper before her. The staff was consistently polite but cast a wary eye her way on occasion as if protecting their employer. She couldn’t fault them.

  Youngston had brought her afternoon tea on a tray, so she nibbled on a biscuit while collecting her thoughts.

  How to describe the relief she felt that the police didn’t seek her? A weight had lifted from her tortured soul. But it only gave a modicum of comfort, for there was still much they had to work out.

  As for this note, she would do as Mr. Robins suggested, write the hospital, apologizing for her sudden disappearance, and ensure they would provide a reference when needed—once settled in another district. Dipping the pen into the ink, she scratched out sincere reparations.

  What excuse? Illness?

  It wasn’t exactly a lie, for she was sick to her soul. She’d caught a fever that had prevented her from making common sense judgments. But that fever passed, and her mind was clear for the first time in many months. She wrote a brief, but heartfelt note, using illness as an impetus, and stated that she was recovering.

  Not actually a lie considering the bout of mild pneumonia.

  Lydia also wrote that she was so ill that she could not contact the hospital. She resigned, for she would seek employment elsewhere once recovered. Lydia sincerely thanked the hospital for their faith in her; then signed her name.

  Folding the paper in half, she slipped it into the envelope. How to mail it? Lord, she couldn’t even afford the postage, for she had no penny to her name.

  Harrison would know what to do.

  An affair.

  Harrison had caught her completely off guard. It is all she had thought about the past few days.

  Yes, she assumed he was attracted to her, and Lydia reciprocated the feeling—but an affair? She was not insulted by the suggestion. There was no denying the temptation.

  No. Not at this time—if at all.

  And judging by Harrison’s reaction, it was apparent he regretted the suggestion as soon as he made it. His apology was sincere, and his embarrassment was palatable.

  Too much had happened.

  Lydia could not expose her defenseless heart to another man, no matter how he appealed. And Harrison did, in so many ways.

  “Excuse me, Miss Best?”

  Lydia turned in her chair. Youngston stood in the doorway.

  “Yes?”

  “His lordship has sent word he will not be able to make it for dinner. He said you may have yours in the dining room or a tray in your room, whatever you choose.”

  Harrison was no doubt admonishing himself for suggesting an affair and would continue to keep his distance. He attended dinner that first night, though there wasn’t much conversation, but since?

  He obviously regretted his proposal.

  How could she come to such a conclusion about him in only a couple of weeks’ acquaintance? The flush of his cheeks was ample proof. And the fact she hadn’t seen him since.

  Perhaps she was not the only one with vulnerabilities. She should take Harrison’s withdrawal as a blessing, for the last thing Lydia wished to do was to frustrate or anger him by declining his proposition.

  “I will take a tray in my room. Thank you.”

  The sooner they arranged for her to take employment elsewhere, the better.

  Protect my heart.

  Lydia had no other choice.

  Chapter 17

  Harrison must return home sooner rather than later. For all his proclamations that he was not a coward, he was the epitome of one at the moment.

  He acted like a hurt, spoiled child.

  During the past four days, he kept his distance from Lydia. He’d stayed all night at the Terminus and done so the night before last.

  Swaying on his feet, it was past noon, and he was ready to collapse.

  “Right you are.” Sister Monica clasped his elbow and pulled him toward the office.

  She was blasted strong for a woman, or perhaps he was in such a weakened condition that the older nun could take charge and practically drag him across the floor. Regardless, he didn’t fight her.

  “That is more than enough, your lordship,” she whispered fiercely in his ear. “You’re dead on your feet.”

  She steered him into the chair, then closed the makeshift door.

  “Harrison, you have me worried. What’s going on, my dear? You have the look of a man tortured by demons.”

  Tortured by demons—of his making. Yes, it was clear that he was his own worst enemy in several areas of his life.

  “I’m avoiding a woman.”

  Sister Monica’s eyebrow arched. “Care to discuss it?”

  “With a nun? No, I think not.”

  “Oh, come now,” she scoffed. “You think I was born in this habit? I had a life before taking my vows. A man even courted me.”

  “My apologies,” Harrison murmured wearily. “I made an utterly asinine suggestion to a young woman who deserves better from me.”

  “Then you must make amends and apologize at once.”

  “Sound advice.”

  Sister Monica crossed her arms and frowned. “You haven’t taken my last bit of sage advice to heart. Here you are, working yourself into a sickbed—or worse.”

  Her expression softened. “You cannot treat the world entire. Cure all of its ills. All you can do is make your mark in your small corner of the world. And you have, Harrison. You cannot do more, not without doing serious harm to yourself. Rest here; lay your head on the desk. I’ll wake you in two hours, and you must return home. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He did as Monica suggested, and the last thing he remembered, she gently laid a blanket across his shoulders.

  When the kindly nun roused him close to three hours later, he could depart under his own steam, though his legs still trembled from exhaustion.

  Once he arrived home and stepped out of the cab, Youngston and Gillis assisted him upstairs, undressed him, and bundled him into bed.

  His dreams were fractured, strange, and borne from bone-numbing fatigue. In his nightmare, he attended a fancy ball in his Doctor Damian outfit; his apron spattered with blood. He tried to gain the attention of the lords and ladies, but they looked away in disgust.

  Wake up, you fool.

  Apparently, he cared what society thought of him. What a distasteful discovery. Among the disdainful crowd? His own family. They turned their backs on him. Was he fearful that his family would reject his secret life? It made no sense. His family always championed good causes.

  No, it wasn’t only his secretive doctor duties but all the lies he’d told. Harrison should have been forthright about it. What a hash he’d made of things.

  Damn all the obstacles. Damn all rationalizations. And damn my craven ways.

  Harrison cracked open his eyes and found himself in complete darkness. Someone was in the room with him. He inhaled, and the scent of wildflowers filled his senses.

  Lydia lit the gas lamp next to his bed, and golden light surrounded him, causing him to squint.

  “It’s ten o’clock. At night, obviously,” she murmured. “You didn’t come home last night. I won’t ask where. It’s not my business.”

  “I was at the terminus.”

  “Oh.”

  “You thought I was with a woman?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes again, trying to clear the fog from his vision.

  Lydia sighed. “I assumed that’s where most men go when they storm out. At least, that has been my experience. Especially since you did not come home the night before that.”

  Harrison sat upright, the blanket slipping to his waist, exposing his bare chest.

  Lydia didn’t hide her heated look as she inspected him closely. He reveled in the attention. Though he’d lost weight, he still managed to keep himself in reasonable shape.

  “Allow me to apologize once again for suggesting an affair. It was borne out of selfishness; I had no business making such a proposal. I offended you. I was embarrassed by my behavior. Overwhelmed with emotion. And, as is typical of me, I kept my distance.”

  There. I gave a sincerely meant apology once again.

  Lydia’s gaze traveled upward until it locked with his. “We are a pair, aren’t we? When feelings become too much to handle, we withdraw. I wasn’t offended. In fact, I was—am—tempted.”

  His heart thudded double-time at her forthright statement.

  “Temptation aside,” Lydia continued, “I am not ready for those types of relations. However brief, however passionate. Huntsford has not completely ruined me; I refuse to allow him to achieve such a triumph. I could declare that I will never become involved with another man again. But I won’t. No, he will not have that victory over me.” Her voice was unwavering, determined.

  In truth, Harrison could not fault her reasoning, but his heart throbbed with regret nonetheless. “So not is all lost between us? Or is it wishful thinking on my part?”

  “I honestly don’t know what the future will bring. I can only stay focused here in the present. I’m not saying no. I am saying—not at this exact time.”

  Her gaze slid downward; the sheet did not conceal his arousal. “I want to crawl into bed with you, curl up next to your warmth. I want you to hold me and tell me all will be well.”

  Harrison tossed aside the sheet. “Then come and let me hold you. Regardless of my aroused state, I will not take advantage. You have my word. Do you trust me?”

  He was naked. He was exposed—in more ways than one.

  Boldly, her gaze slid to that aching and hard part of him. Her admiring look filled him with masculine pride.

  “I do trust you, Harrison. If I show moments of doubt or seemingly withdraw, know it’s not because of you.”

  Lydia stood, kicked off her slippers, then lay beside him, facing away from him, on her side. Harrison curled about her, pulling her close. His erection no doubt prodded her back. Lying in his embrace, she didn’t flinch or pull away.

  The trust was there, taking root, and his heart soared.

  Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “I want you. I want to taste you, every part of your soft skin. I want to be inside you with my cock surrounded and embraced by your warmth. I want to move in out of you, make love to you for hours on end.”

  Harrison couldn’t stay quiet. With Lydia wrapped in his arms like this, the confession spilled out of him. Will she recoil and pull away? Harrison wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  A soft moan escaped her as she writhed against his stiff shaft. God, he was in blissful agony.

  “But it will be on your terms—if you decide you even want me at all,” Harrison whispered. “All will be well. I will see to it.”

  Exhaling shakily, Lydia rubbed her cheek against his arm. There was no reply to his passionate declaration, but her being in his bed like this was enough. They lay together for a long time; he drifted off to sleep again.

  Harrison awakened when she pulled from his arms and sat upright.

  “Heavens, I fell asleep as well. It’s past one in the morning. I’ll be heading to my bed. Thank you, Harrison, for understanding. Will we share breakfast?”

  “If you wish. Eight o’clock?”

  “Yes. May I accompany you to the Terminus in the afternoon? To assist? Please. I am stronger. My voice has all but returned, and the cough has diminished greatly. I need to be useful.”

  Harrison laid his hand gently against her back. “It is damp below ground. The air is humid and not altogether fresh. It could exacerbate your lung condition. However, you’re a nurse, and if you believe you’ve recovered enough, then accompany me for a few hours by all means.”

  Turning, Lydia kissed his forehead, picked up her slippers, then hurried from his room, softly closing the door. An innocent kiss and his insides were aflame.

  There was no doubt that he’d give her the time she needed. In the interim, he was in absolute anguish.

  For he was falling for her, no use denying it. Harrison will have to keep his emotions in check and not overwhelm her.

  As for protecting his heart—too blasted late.

  * * *

  For three days, Lydia accompanied Harrison to the Terminus. They spent part of the late afternoon and early evening, and she hadn’t done much more than serve bowls of soup and assist the nuns with various duties.

  On the third day, Harrison tasked her with sorting the newcomers according to medical priority. How pleased she was for Harrison to give her this significant duty.

  Sister Monica watched her interaction with Harrison. Obviously, the nun suspected something, for their arrivals and departures were similar. But she was polite and still knew her as Miss Best.

 

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