hadn’t held it since he was a lad of ten.
As if it couldn’t wait to be broken again.
He released her instantly. What had they been talking about? Oh yes…
Money.
“I’ve sunk a fortune into this place because I couldn’t stand to practice surgery in the hellholes they call hospitals here. I wanted a situation that was not only specialized, but clean, where patients had a greater chance of recovery, and it’s succeeded. The infection rate is down, and the survival rate is so much higher than I even projected.”
He watched the floors fall away with a glowing sort of pride in each one. “In my exuberance, I have endeavored to open many more like this. The surgery in Southwark, for example, where so many industrial accidents need seeing to. But I’ve overstretched, it seems. I’m often too busy performing actual procedures to raise funds. I’ve financed what I can… but it’s rather taken on a life of its own. And there is always more need than there are those trained to fill it. I’d like to sponsor the education of young talent…”
The lift halted at the top floor, so he opened the cage and swept his hand for her to lead the way.
She didn’t move. Merely looked at him with dark eyes shining in the lone dim lantern of the lift. “I’d give you my entire fortune if I had one,” she said with a youthful earnestness that conjured that lively girl he’d once known.
He had to clear his throat before replying. “You are kind.”
She shuffled past him, murmuring something that sounded like, “We both know I am not.”
The corridors of his private residence were unnervingly silent. Not just because the plush carpeting muffled their footsteps, and velvety arabesque wallpaper dampened their acoustics. A strange expectancy emanated from the shadows in between the delicate gold sconces aligning the walls.
Their glow was dimmer than usual, gilding the atmosphere with more shadows than illuminations. Next to him, Nora was like a beacon, her gown a shock of light in the dark opulence, her hair an inky sheen around features that were the perfect paradox of soft and sharp.
Titus’s heart gave an extra thump as his body responded to the proximity to her and to his bed.
Nothing could happen between them.
“Do you still like to ride?” she queried.
“Hmmm?” He wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. Also, the word “ride” from her mouth instinctively tightened his cock against the placket of his trousers.
It had become a meaningful word to them in their youth. One with more salacious connotations, as they often used the excuse of riding to spend amorous time together.
“Do you remember how we used to fly along Rotten Row? I miss that. If I could have anything back, it would be the horses and…those afternoons.”
“I hardly have the time for such things,” he answered in a tone flat enough to draw her curious attention.
“It seems we should both relearn how to enjoy ourselves.”
“I enjoy what I do.”
“I can tell,” she said, reaching out to run her finger along a small display table as they passed it. “But I imagine you should find some recreation, just as I should find something to give my life purpose.”
You could work here with me. The words leapt to his lips and he swallowed them immediately. Too much. Too soon.
Or was it too little, too late?
“Where do you think you’ll go after this is over?” he asked.
She lifted her hand and caught at a strand of her hair, worrying it with deft fingers. “Well, I’m too notorious to stay in London, I think. The papers have spilled every sensational detail of my life, along with my husband’s innumerable crimes. There is a dowager cottage in the country that I might prevail upon, but…I recently spent some time in Italy and grew fond of it. I think of returning often. I like the sunshine there.”
“Italy?” The very word offended him. “What the devil would you do in Italy?”
Approaching the door of his chamber, she stepped aside so he could rest his hand on the latch. “Men mistreat their wives everywhere. Perhaps I can be useful in that way. It could be a way for me to make reparations for whatever damage I’ve done.”
What would be worse? To know she lived close? Or across a continent?
He reached out and covered the hand working tangles into her hair with his own, wanting to soothe whatever anxiety caused her to fidget.
“I never would have hurt you, Nora.” It needed to be said.