She nearly bolted. “It is…your mother’s dress.”
“I know.”
Of course he knew. Wasn’t he the one who had arranged for it? Yet she could think of nothing else to say to him. Not with the memory of his kiss and the intensity of his stare all swirling together and making her mindless. Why didn’t he say anything? Why couldn’t she?
“Come.” Another command. Of course.
She looped her arm around his and together they hurried for the carriage. Once inside, as the vehicle started moving, she pulled her paisley shawl tighter around her against the chill.
Felton removed his wet hat. “Minney told you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Should I?”
“Yes.” A smile worked at his jaw. “I was a fool to ever think otherwise.”
Perhaps Eliza had been a fool too. She’d trusted words without a memory.
A dull throb started in her temples, and she turned to the window so she might not have to see his face. She had a memory now. One he probably wouldn’t believe even if she did tell him.
Which she wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
Or should she?
“Eliza.”
Tiny bumps pebbled her skin, as his gloved fingers landed upon her chin.
“Look at me.” A whisper. “Come now. Look at me.”
Slowly, painfully, she turned from the window. How easy it was to look at him. To lookintohim. To plunge, like the mermaid, into the green sea of his eyes and never want to surface.
“Tell me.”
Was she so obvious?
“Tell me everything.”
“I do not know everything,” she said. “That is what frightens me.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Felton—”
“Answer. Do you trust me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then tell me what makes you so strange these last few days.” His thumb eased back and forth along her jawline. “Tell me why you can scarcely look at me.”
As if some harsh fisherman had dragged the mermaid from her sea, Eliza cast down her eyes. She turned back to the carriage window and lost the touch of his fingers stroking her face.
His sigh filled the silence.
