me.”
“Is that why you are so distracted today?” She glanced around him at his desk.
“Surprisingly, her lack of love for me has not wounded me at all.”
So he would still marry her? Even though he knew she didn’t love him? Was he so set on his plan that it didn’t matter, or did he love her enough to marry her regardless? “I believe true love—romantic love, anyway—takes two people.”
“That sounds like an absolute. I’m not certain I believe in absolutes about love.”
“It is an absolute,” she said. “Anything else is just infatuation.” His cravat was askew, and her finger itched to fix it. He just didn’t look like himself.
He brought his hand down from the mantel. “Are you implying I have been infatuated with a woman for over two years? I would think I was above that.”
“In my opinion, if you know she doesn’t love you, it must be infatuation or some kind of silly self-sacrifice. And you should be above that.” She stepped forward and reached for his cravat. They had crossed so many lines already; one more shouldn’t hurt. With a couple of tugs, she had it looking better, if not perfect.
When she glanced up, his eyes were on her mouth. His body swayed forward toward her. “Have you ever been in love like that?”
“With someone who loves me back?”
He covered one of her hands still at his neck with his own. “Didn’t you say that was the only kind of love?”
“Yes. I mean no. I said that, but no.” Her answer was barely a whisper, but he was so close she knew he could hear her. “I haven’t had that.”
He slid his thumb across her poor, chapped knuckles.
“Should I leave? Are you going to kiss me if I don’t?”
He dropped her hand and instead pulled at one of the curls along her neck. She found it hard to breathe. She didn’t know what had happened to Mr. Woodsworth today, but he was acting very strangely.
“I want to. Does that make me a terrible person?”
She wanted to tell him, no, it didn’t make him a terrible person at all. Wasn’t that something Mama would say? Live in the moment? If she were Mama, she would have jumped at the chance to share a kiss with Mr. Woodsworth. And she would have kissed him well enough to have left a smile on his face instead of the sullen look he had now. She placed her hands on his chest and balled up the material of his jacket into her fists. Some poor maid would have to iron that tomorrow. Not her. Mrs. Bates hadn’t trusted her with an iron since she had put a hole in one of the sheets. “I could ask you the same question. What answer would you give me?”
Stiff, reliable Mr. Woodsworth leaned in closer. His face was only inches away from her own. The lines that so often creased his face were smooth. He was calm in this moment, and his face at peace was as beautiful as his laughing face. “Have you ever . . .” A slight line of worry crossed his otherwise smooth brow. “I mean . . . whose employ were you in before you came here? Do you make a habit of consoling your employers in such a way?”
She laughed. Mr. Woodsworth knew nothing about her. She should step away, but her feet were rooted in place, and her body was much more inclined to fall forward into him than away. She was Mama today—all fun and no consequences. If she continued this, she would have to admit that Nicholas was right about her. Maybe Nicholas was right about her. Was it so very wrong to live in the moment? “I thought you came over here to comfort me about losing my position as maid.”
“Oh no.” He shook his head. “I am being very, very selfish, and even touching your infuriating curls as I am is more that any gentleman should do. Especially to one in his employ. I’m a cad.”
“There are plenty of men who wouldn’t think twice about dallying with the help.”
He stiffened, releasing the curl he had been softly pulling. “Do you speak from experience?”
Her mind went blank. Of course she didn’t speak from experience. This was the only household she had served in, and Nicholas would never do such a thing in their home.
“Don’t answer that.” He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “Nothing you could say should affect my actions. No matter