her the night she’d spoken to him without restraint, without pretense. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I told you I would prove myself trustworthy to you, and so I thought I’d help you with what means the most to you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “But how did you know? I never told you—”
“It was easy enough to see,” he hastened to say before her doubts could lead her down a path that might unearth his own secret. “That day we met outside the orphanage, I knew something was bothering you and so—very discreetly—I made some inquiries.”
Her jaw dropped. “You…why? What…?”
Holding her gaze, Pierce moved closer, his hand once more settling on hers, now limp as though his revelation had drained all strength from her, her skin chilled against his own. “I swear I will not breathe a word of this to anyone,” he whispered imploringly, shocked to realize how much he desired her trust. “What I did, I did to help, to protect you.” He straightened and then reached inside his jacket, retrieving an envelope. “Here, this is for the orphanage.”
Her gaze drifted down to his hand, then followed as he reached out and settled it into her own. “What is this?” she asked. The suspicion that came to her eyes made him want to shake her. Why did she have to be this distrustful?
His brows rose. “You know what it is.”
Her lips thinned as her gaze rose to meet his. “What are you trying to buy?”
Pierce tensed, willing himself to inhale a calming breath before responding. “I’m not trying to buy anything,” he said slowly. “I’m trying to donate money. I thought as the patron of a children’s home, you’d be familiar with the concept.” His gaze moved to hers and lingered. “How else do you usually procure funds? Through donations, or am I mistaken?”
“You’re not,” she admitted, glancing at the envelope in her hand as though she feared it might be poisoned. “However—”
“However?” Pierce pressed, sidling closer in a way that made her lift her chin in order to hold his gaze. “Is it that little embroidery circle of yours? Is that why you seek the company of these old harpies? To influence them?”
Her gaze widened, and he could see a small tremor run down her frame.
Gritting his teeth, Pierce took a step back. “All I want is to help you.”
“Why?”
He huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because I want to.”
“But why?” she insisted stubbornly.
“Because Albert told me you needed it. Why would you accept his help but not mine?”
“He’s a sweet man.”
“So you’ve said.” His brows rose. “And I’m not?”
Oddly enough, a smile teased up the corners of her mouth and he saw her shoulders relax. “No,” she whispered, her gaze lingering in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. “No, you’re not. You’re…”
Holding her gaze, Pierce lowered his head. “I’m what?”
A shuddering breath passed her lips. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “That’s what worries me.” Then, utterly unexpectedly, her gaze narrowed in a way that suggested she’d suddenly realized something that had previously eluded her. “You remind me of someone.”
Pierce tensed. Nevertheless, he could not deny that a part of him was hoping that she would put the pieces together. “Who?”
She frowned, a hint of exasperation coming to her gaze. “I don’t know. I…there’s something in your eyes that…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Pierce chuckled. “Perhaps we’ve met in a previous life.”
Smiling, she sighed. “Can you not ever be serious?” she chided. The tone in her voice betrayed her amusement.
Pierce loved the lightness that came to her eyes, the deep sigh that left her lips as though she’d finally found a moment to relax.
Here.
With him.
“You should laugh more often,” he whispered. “It becomes you.”
Her gaze lingered on his, and he felt himself tense when the lightness slowly vanished from her eyes, replaced by the familiar tension. “One cannot laugh without reason,” she mumbled, her gaze distant as though she were still trying to puzzle out of whom he reminded her.
Pierce leaned against the balustrade, then cleared his throat. “You spend your days worrying about others,” he said, seeking her gaze. “Why?”
Sighing, she leaned back against the balustrade as well, their arms almost touching. “Someone has to.” The weight of the world seemed to linger on her shoulders, and Pierce could see the effort it took her to continue on. Still, she clearly did not think she had a choice. This was simply who she was, and he loved her for it.
Pierce frowned at the thought. He