Page 99 of The Marriage Method

Miles didn’t know. He couldn’t think presently. Not about that or about anything else. The feel of her fingers was turning his brain to melted treacle.

No one in his life had ever touched him so soothingly. Not even his mother. Rose Quincey had been a hard woman, full of fierce determination. She hadn’t allowed for any softness. To her, it was equivalent to weakness. Miles hadn’t felt the lack of it. He’d known no different. But this…

To be petted and caressed by the lady he was coming to care for…

It was a pleasure beyond anything.

“Miles,” Nell said. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly. “What did you say?”

Her fingers tightened in his locks in gentle reproof. “I asked if you were going into the office today.”

“Mmm.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Today is tomorrow,” she said with a hint of impatience.

Miles suppressed a grimace. She was right. He needed to get up. To take her to bed, and then to take himself to bed, if only for the few remaining hours until dawn. If he didn’t, he’d get no proper sleep.

“When you go in to work,” Nell said, “I wonder if you might do something for me?”

“Anything,” he said.

“Do you suppose the Courant has access to the architectural plans for Northwick Hall? They must be available somewhere, given Sir Robert’s reputation.”

The question was provoking enough that Miles finally raised his head. “Why would you require plans for Amstead’s house?”

“Common sense.” She removed her hand from his hair. “We’d be foolish to travel to Hertfordshire blindly. If we had a floor plan to consult, it would give us an idea of where the different rooms are located, and where the exits might be in case we need to make use of them.”

Miles slowly sat up. The delicious fog that had temporarily numbed his brain receded. A burgeoning suspicion came in its place. “Have you done this sort of thing before?”

Nell lifted her uninjured shoulder in a casual shrug. “Knowing one’s surroundings is the first step of any successful endeavor.”

His brows lowered. “Is this more wisdom from the Academy?”

She smiled. “Wisdom to live by.”

• • • • •

Nell was in the library the next day, snuggled in a chair in front of the fire reading her advance copy of Can You Forgive Her?, when Effie came to call.

“Reading rather than sewing?” Effie observed as she entered. “This is a change.”

Nell put away her book. She rose from her chair to greet her friend. “Mr. Quincey has forbidden me from sewing while my arm heals.”

Effie closed the distance between them, the velvet-trimmed skirts of her amethyst silk carriage gown rustling in an elegant swish of expensive fabric. “Forbidden? Has he?” Rather than embracing Nell, Effie gently clasped her left hand.

Nell pressed Effie’s fingers in return. “Out of an excess of concern.”

It was the only reason Nell had acquiesced. However trying his commands, she’d known Miles had her best interests at heart. His every action had attested to the fact, from the nightlong vigil he’d kept at her bedside to the beating he’d administered to Silas.

She shouldn’t be moved by any of it. Certainly not the violent aspects. But it was difficult not to be. Nell had never had anyone behave so protectively toward her before.

Effie’s gaze skimmed over Nell’s right arm. It was still cradled in Miles’s makeshift sling. “How are you faring?”