Page 68 of Holly & Folly

They had not spoken since their conversation about the conservatory. Perhaps he had been expecting an engagement announcement.

“I hope you do not find me too forward, Miss Prescott,” he said softly, “if I tell you that I see sadness in your eyes, and I think I can guess the reason.”

A lump rose in Nell’s throat, but she tried to smile. It took enough effort that she could not find a response.

“There is nothing worse than facing such sadness alone.”

Nell tried to blink away the burning in her eyes.

He took a handkerchief from his tailcoat and offered it to her.

A strangled feeling in her throat, she accepted it, then glanced around the room, hoping no one had noticed her discomposure. “If you will excuse me…” She turned toward the door, which was blurred by the tears she was fighting off.

She closed the door behind her and began walking, her breath coming shakily.

She had been naïve to come to Bellthorne, just as she had been naïve to think Henry would marry her or that she could have a future with the earl.

A squeak sounded, and Mr. Fowell closed the door gently behind him. “Forgive me, Miss Prescott, but I cannot in good conscience leave you alone in such a state. Would you care for company?”

Nell met his gaze and opened her mouth to decline, but no words came out.

She wanted to be alone, yet she dreaded it. She did not wish to be with her thoughts or feelings without distraction or reprieve.

Everywhere she looked at Bellthorne, people seemed to have their companion. Wesley and Millie had become nearly inseparable. Lord Weymouth and his wife were wrapped up in the bliss of being newly wed. Mr. and Mrs. Bowles had each other. The Potsworths. The Strouds. Lord Dalmeer and Miss Orston.

That one smarted most of all.

Nell had arrived at Bellthorne intending to rebuild her reputation, but at some point, she had come to long for companionship.

She could not have the one she truly wanted, but Mr. Fowell was offering to be with her in her sadness.

Was it so very wrong for her to wish, just for a moment, to forget she had ever fallen in love with Lord Dalmeer?

“I could walk with you,” Mr. Fowell offered.

Nell nodded and took the arm he supplied. There was precious little wisdom in it, but there would be company and distraction, at least. As for her reputation?

That was beyond repair.

She had seen to that.

“I am not normally so sentimental,” she said with a watery laugh, dabbing the corner of her eye with his handkerchief.

He put a reassuring hand over the one holding his arm. “You needn’t apologize, Miss Prescott. I am no stranger to disappointment of the sort you have experienced.”

She glanced at him. She had never considered Mr. Fowell’s background or experience. She had seen him as a threat to be avoided—much like some had seen her.

Perhaps he had his own sad history, though.

“Does it get better?” she asked, desperately hoping for reassurance.

He looked at her as they strolled the corridor, then directed his gaze forward again. “The pain is not always so sharp. But temporary comforts are the most I have found.”

“What sort of temporary comforts?” A reprieve, however short, would be welcome.

He slowed and faced her, his eyes searching hers as his hold on her hand shifted. “Would you like me to show you?”

Nell’s breath stuttered as his gaze intensified, then his eyes dropped to her lips.