left Thomas my favorite deck of cards. I am rather fond of them, so I thought to trade him for a fresh set. As well … I had business with Mrs. Fisher.”
Before she could ask him what business he was referring to, Diana cleared her throat.
“Callie, dear, Hastings and I will join the others and leave you to speak with Mr. Burke. We will not start without you.”
She widened her eyes, silently begging Diana not to leave her alone with him. Her sister pretended not to notice and took her husband’s arm, then they continued toward the drawing room.
Calliope stared down the yawning passage, too afraid of what she might find when she looked into Nick’s eyes.
“I had thought to leave this with Mrs. Fisher on my way out, but since you are here, I may as well give it to you in person.”
The parcel was extended to her, the brown paper visible on the periphery of her vision. She lifted shaking hands to accept it, concentrating on the twine binding it closed. His hand fell over hers and didn’t pull away, the touch searing down to her marrow.
She sucked in a breath and looked up, finding him watching her with a grim set to his mouth.
“I purchased it in Box Hill, intending to give it to you as … well, it doesn’t matter now. You might consider it a congratulatory gift.”
Her throat was too tight for words, so she simply moved to a small console table and set the package down, pulling at the twine to open it. Her heart thundered, her blood roaring in her ears as she uncovered a flat box and lifted its lid.
Inside was a chatelaine of pure silver, a filigree pattern etched along the brooch. Her lips parted as she ran her fingers over the metal, tracing the delicate chains hanging from the centerpiece, each one holding a different, useful tool. There was a small silver holder for a pencil, a tiny pair of scissors, a watch with a painted scene of a meadow on its face, and a flat silver case that she opened to find stuffed with a neat stack of foolscap.
When her gaze shot up, she found he’d come closer and was now hovering over her, one hand reaching out to fiddle with the pencil holder.
“Not the most romantic of gifts, but it seemed apropos. I noticed you struggling to keep up with your notes during the last meeting and thought this might help.”
“It’s lovely,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
It was the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone had ever given her, and she couldn’t even find the right words to tell him so.
In a moment of recklessness, she touched his hand, wanting him to know in some small way that she was grateful, that she hadn’t ceased caring about him. Most of all, she couldn’t help herself when he was standing so close, whole and real as if he’d stepped right out of her dreams.
His gaze fell to their hands, his jaw winding tight as he dragged in a harsh breath. “Touching me is a bad idea, goddess.”
The warning in his tone made her snatch her hand away, but he grasped her wrist, preventing escape.
“It makes me forget that you aren’t mine anymore,” he growled, jerking her closer and lowering his head until his mouth brushed her ear. “It makes me want things you no longer wish to give, for you cannot condescend to let yourself love a whore.”
She stiffened, trying to pull her arm out of his grip but failing when he tightened his fingers. “I never said—”
“But you’d fuck a whore, wouldn’t you? I’m good enough to bed you, but little else.”
“Dominick, please … that isn’t how I feel. Surely you must know that.”
“I don’t know how you feel, as you did not respond to my note, nor did you bother to show your face after you returned to London with your precious fiancé.”
He finally released her arm when she stepped away, glancing up and down the corridor to ensure they hadn’t been seen. They were fortunate this time, but she would take no chances. Gesturing toward the nearest door, she motioned for him to follow her.
She waited until they were ensconced inside a closet where Mrs. Fisher stored various supplies, with barely enough room for them to stand toe to toe.
“I’m sorry if you took my failure to tell you the news in person as some indication that I don’t care, or that I think of our time together