Sarah elbowed her husband in the ribs. “I might be mistaken, darling, for it has been so long since I have experienced it myself, but I do believe they were flirting with one another.”
“What?” Ezra squinted as if solving a problem.
“They were flirting, you dolt.” Sarah burst into rich laughter that suddenly made Leah want to cry. She wanted to give her mother a reason to laugh and smile, she wanted to be able to reassure her mother that this would not end in tears, and she wanted to be able to say, proudly, that she was in love and was loved in return by a gentleman who would protect her heart as he had protected her. But she could not do any of that, and it stung.
“Mama. Father. I think I will retire,” Leah said quietly. “I really do feel unwell, and I am sorry I did not inform you that I was meeting with him. I thought I had. Mrs. Sharples was with us, anyway, so there is no reason to worry.”
Sarah frowned. “I did not see her go up to her apartments.”
“She has gone up the street to have tea with her friend. Truly, I think she might be the most popular woman in London—she encountered at least five friends while we were at the botanical gardens,” Leah explained. “Now, if you please, I must rest. There is a ball on Friday, and I should hate to miss it due to illness.”
Panic set Ezra’s head into a vigorous nodding motion. “Of course, you must. Go, at once. There will be colds and fevers in abundance once winter has properly set in, and if we are to have you engaged before then, you must attend this ball.” He clapped his hands together. “It is not far away; I can feel it. My daughter: a Duchess.”
He could not have known how much those words pinched, nor did Leah feel inclined to correct him. All she wanted was her bed where she might have some hope of escaping Nathaniel in her dreams. Either that or she might meet a different version of him there in her dreamland: a version of him that felt the same way she did and was not afraid to confess his love or to adore someone whose heart bore a few scars that still needed healing.
I would be the salve for you too, if you would but let me,she mused wearily, padding away to the safety of her bedchamber.
* * *
“Out of your nightclothes, at once!” Nathaniel heard Sarah hiss as he waited patiently in the parlor the following morning. He smiled, imagining Leah and her mother scrambling for day clothes and ribbons and a hairbrush to drag through Leah’s silky locks, tousled by sleep.
Ezra coughed loudly to try and cover the sound of his wife and daughter. “They will be along shortly. You should have informed us of your intention to visit.” He paused, looking aghast. “Not that you are not welcome to call upon Leah whenever you please! Of course, you must call upon her whenever you please. I merely meant because she has had this terrible headache, she was not prepared for visitors.”
“I only intended to leave a letter,” Nathaniel remarked, sipping from the cup of tea that had hastily arrived.
“Well, yes, but as I have already said, it would be better for you to see her. She is greatly recovered, and as Sarah and I are not afflicted with headaches, I am certain it is not catching,” Ezra fumbled to reply, clearly rattled by Nathaniel’s morning appearance.
Five awkward minutes later, Leah was all but shoved into the parlor, panting as if she had just come in from a brisk winter walk. She looked beautiful, but nothing would be more astonishing to him than the image of her the previous afternoon, draped in his greatcoat. It had made his arms ache to hold her in his greatcoat’s stead, his heart sighing at the thought. Indeed, for the first time in his life, he had been envious of a piece of clothing.
“Apologies if I kept you waiting, Nathaniel,” Leah said raggedly, still catching her breath. “I will not lie to you, I was asleep.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “I wanted to deliver a letter, but your father insisted on us seeing one another over tea.” He gestured to the two teapots on the tray before him. “I believe the smaller one is filled with your mother’s medicinal concoction.”
“Oh goodness, lash it out of the window at once!” Leah teased, seeming entirely recovered.
Sarah harrumphed from the hallway. “You would still have a roaring headache if not for that tea, darling. Be kind.”
“Yes, well, I have several matters to attend to, and my wife has some rose bushes to prune, so we shall leave you to talk alone,” Ezra announced, getting up. “I know it is more appropriate for a chaperone to be present, but as you are here in this residence, and I shall only be in the study across the hall, I see no harm in a few minutes of peaceful tea-drinking together.”
Sarah poked her head in, looking like she was about to protest, but Ezra swiftly scooped her in the crook of his arm and steered her out of the room and down the hallway, out of sight.
“Pruning rose bushes when it is almost December?” Nathaniel tilted his head to one side. “Your mother has some strange pastimes.”
Leah laughed softly, sitting down on the settee opposite. “My father is terrified that you have lost interest in me or that I have somehow chased you away. I believe this is his attempt to bring us closer together.”
“Yet, you are all the way over there,” Nathaniel said, feeling the absence of her at his side.
Leah nodded. “And here I shall stay. Which teapot was mine?”
“The one with the ducks on it,” Nathaniel replied, wondering why she seemed colder. Was it because he had bruised Jonathan’s face? Did she think him a brute, now? Or was it the “duchess” debacle? Was she still wounded by it? He hoped not, for it was the one thing he did not know how to fix. “How are you faring today?” he asked. “I have been worried sick.”
Leah paused mid-pour. “You were?”
“Certainly. I barely slept thinking about your… sudden ailment,” he replied, stumbling over his words. “Colin sends his wishes, too. The bee survived.”
Leah gasped. “Oh, I am glad! I also did not sleep well, worrying for the poor thing.” Her cheeks reddened, her gaze dropping to the teapot. “My parents, of course, did not believe the story. Well, my mama did, but my father thought you were just making an excuse not to stay for tea.”
“It would sound outlandish to anyone else,” he conceded. “But you are sure you are well?”
