“Now that we are almost at Scarborough, might you tell me what all of this is about?” Tabitha asked, scowling from the velvet squab opposite.

Aaron had not been able to rest since the journey had begun, his nerves a fractious mess and his heart beating far harder than it had ever done before. His eyes itched with lack of sleep and his muscles were wound tight. Truly, he would have preferred a battlefield to the prospect of his daughter in danger. Although they did not always see eye-to-eye, he cared about her more than he knew how to put into words.

“It is best that you do not know,” he replied.

“If it involves Henrietta, then I surely have a right to know?”

“Please, Tabitha. I implore you to trust me on this matter.”

He was as much a victim of his own upbringing as Henrietta was of hers, though he had come to realize that he had not behaved in an entirely genteel manner. To have Henrietta married off in such haste now felt like a mistake, though there was nothing they could do about that. He just hoped that Ewan was taking care of her, as a good husband ought to. Indeed, more than anything, he prayed he was not too late to keep her from danger.

All he had ever known was the military. His father had been a General and had laid certain expectations upon Aaron. His childhood had been strict and severe, with rules and regulations surrounding every detail of his life. Ever the dutiful son, he had obeyed his father’s every wish and followed in his footsteps. There had never been any other option.

How you hated your father back then, for forcing you in one direction. He had briefly thought of practicing law, but his father had put an end to such outlandish dreams. You have done the same to her, haven’t you? You took the ability to choose away from her. Pray that she will forgive you one day, as you forgave your father. Otherwise, you will have lost her for good.

He could not bear the thought. Although he lacked the ability to convey and show deep emotion, he felt it keenly from time to time. Indeed, he never knew what to do with such feelings. The only thing he knew for sure was that he loved his wife and daughter with all his heart. He had simply built up walls around himself, so high that nobody could exit or enter. Now, he feared he had formed a prison for himself without even realizing it.

In the days that had passed since leaving their home, he had thought a great deal about his future. He did not wish to be alone on his deathbed, with no loved ones around him. He did not wish to hear of his daughter only via secondhand means.

If she would allow him, he would do all he could to make amends. He could not change the past now, but he could at least do something about the years to come.

Henrietta looked up in horror as she and Ewan walked through the main doors of the Old Bell. Standing in the foyer, talking to Mr. Chambers, was her mother and father. Seeing them, she gripped tighter to Ewan’s arm and wondered if they might still have the chance to sneak back out. However, before she could move a muscle, her father turned and spied her.

“Ah, there you are,” he said with forced brightness. “Mr. Chambers was just telling us that he did not know when you would return. We thought we might have to wait awhile in the dining room.”

Henrietta swallowed her immediate anger. “What are you doing here?” she asked simply. Her mother looked tired, a glitter of annoyance in her eyes. Ah, so this little trip was not your idea, Mama?

“We thought we ought to see how you were,” Aaron explained. “You disappeared from Nightingale so quickly that we barely had the chance to speak with you.”

“You had plenty of opportunities to speak with me before the wedding,” she shot back. “Instead, you chose to have me locked inside my own bedchamber and guarded by your minions.” It flowed out of her before she could stop it. So much for keeping restraints upon my anger.

“Has it not worked out most fortuitously?” Aaron replied. “You two seem to be the picture of happiness.”

“You could not have been certain of that, but it did not stop you from doing what you did. You forced me into this, and I find it rather disconcerting that you feel you can show up whenever you please, without so much as a written warning.”

Tabitha took a step forward. “Come, my darling, are you not pleased to see us?”

“You are as bad as he is, Mama,” she said sadly. “You would not stand up to him, though you knew those actions were wrong. I cannot blame you entirely, but there is some fault against you still.”

“Please, darling, let us be civil.”

“I am sorry, Mama, but I cannot discuss these matters with you now. I am weary after a tiresome, troubling day, and I wish to retreat to my bedchamber.”

“Surely, you must be hungry? Might we have dinner first?”

Henrietta shook her head. “I find that I have quite lost my appetite.”

“Henrietta, your mother and father have come a long way,” Ewan said, playing devil’s advocate. “A brief dinner might not be such a terrible thing.”

“Are you asking me or are you demanding this of me?”

He looked wounded. “Asking.”

“Then I must politely refuse,” she said. “My side is causing me some difficulty, and I should like to attend to the bruising to make sure it has not worsened.”

He frowned. “Bruising?”

“Yes, I have some bruising where I fell. It is nothing that a bath cannot solve.” She turned to Mr. Chambers, who was awkwardly attempting not to listen to the tense conversation. “Mr. Chambers, might you have one of the chambermaids draw me a bath?”

He dipped his head. “Certainly, My Lady.”

“Please, Henrietta, won’t you have dinner with us first?” Tabitha was earnest, her eyes glimmering with tears that were yet to be spilled. As furious as Henrietta was, she could not deny her mother. Even so, she had not been lying when she had mentioned her side aching. Her breaths had grown more ragged after chasing Isobel, and she feared she may have caused further damage to the initial injury. Every inhalation burned with a vehement sting.

“I will consider having dinner once I have bathed, Mama.”

“Did you mention bruising?” Aaron asked, his brow furrowed.

“I did.”

“Have you been hurt?”

She tried hard not to roll her eyes. “I tumbled from my horse, that is all. I should like to attend to my injuries, to make sure there is nothing too severe occurring.”

“Shall we send for a physician?”

Henrietta shook her head. “It is nothing I cannot deal with myself, Papa. You see, those books have come in handy at last.”

“But you will dine with us?” Tabitha urged, sensing that a more serious dispute was about to begin. Talk of those medical journals was always bound to add flames to a still-burning fire.”

“I will contemplate it whilst I bathe.” Without another word, she headed down the main hallway and up the stairs to her room. Ewan followed close behind her, though he did not say anything. She was grateful for that, for she did not need to be made to feel guilty when she was in such pain.

“You did not tell me it was so serious,” Ewan said, as the door closed firmly behind them. He stood in Henrietta’s side of the adjoining chambers, where a fire had been laid to warm them through the cold evening.

“It is nothing I cannot endure,” she assured him, though her face twisted up in a mask of agony as she attempted to sink down on the chaise. She clutched at her side, a thin sheen of perspiration gathering on her forehead.

He walked over to her and knelt at her feet, lifting his hand to her head to check her temperature. A worrying heat touched his skin. “You are feverish, My Lady.”

“I will be well enough. I just… I just need to catch my breath.” Every time she drew oxygen into her lungs, he could see how greatly she suffered.

“Do not think me impolite, but might it have something to do with your corset?” he asked, his throat constricting. He had sworn not to touch her, but if she needed his help, he would not pull away.

She grimaced. “It is restricting me somewhat.”

“Turn to the side,” he instructed her gently.

A surprised look crossed her face. However, she did as he had asked, turning her body to the side and bringing herself closer to the edge of the chaise. Still kneeling before her, he reached up to the buttons that lined the back of the marigold dress. His fingers worked deftly, showing no hint of nerves, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

Carefully, he pulled the two sides apart and slid them to the farthest tip of her shoulders, exposing her back. A half-corset sat across her ribcage, the ties bound tight. Slowly, he reached his hands up, tracing his fingertips across the smooth, pale skin between her shoulder-blades. I am merely helping her with her injury, nothing more.

“Your hands are cold,” she murmured, her gaze turned towards the fire.

“Sorry,” he whispered, blowing onto his hands to warm them up before returning them to the smooth expanse of her bare skin. She did not stiffen or balk at his touch.

Trying to ignore the intimacy of the moment, he took the ties of her half-corset and began to unlace them. He could feel every breath she took, hearing the ragged draw of each one as he loosened the corset. To him, it appeared like a torture device, restricting her ribs in such a savage way. He understood why ladies used them, but Henrietta had a lovely figure without it.

Stop… you must not think of her in that way.

The moment reminded him of one he had shared with Patricia, a few days after their wedding night. They had been more comfortable with one another then, more attuned to each other’s thoughts and desires. He had unlaced her corset in this manner and had placed the tenderest of kisses on the curve of her neck. He wanted to do the same to Henrietta, but he could not bring himself to lean in and touch his lips to her skin. He had vowed not to.

Soon, the half-corset was unlaced in its entirety. With steady hands, he slipped it out from beneath her dress, allowing her to maintain her dignity as he cast it to one side. He removed his hands quickly, folding them behind his back.

A knock at the door shattered the strange tension between them. Ewan rose and crossed the room, answering it with some annoyance. His mind was racing, his thoughts uncertain.

“My Lord, Mr. Chambers has sent me up to draw a bath for your lady wife,” the maid on the other side explained.

He nodded. “Have it set up in the other room.”

“Very good, My Lord.” With that, she scurried off to the other door.

Taking a shaky breath, Ewan turned back and looked at his wife, perched on the edge of the chaise with her back elegantly bent half towards him. He swallowed, unable to deny her beauty in the firelight. She looked otherworldly, her chin tilted up, the flames flickering in her blue eyes.

“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly.

“I thought you might prefer it,” he replied. “I will stay in here whilst you bathe, to give you some privacy.”

He walked over to the adjoining doors and closed them, muffling the distant rattles of the maid preparing Henrietta’s bath. He did not want anyone to disturb this unexpectedly tender moment between them.

As he made his way towards her once more, he picked her nightgown off the bed. She eyed it curiously.

“I do not plan to rest, my Lord Marquess,” she said. “I will bathe and then we will dine with my mother and father.”

“This is so I may check on your injuries,” he explained. “Wrap it around yourself, though leave your ribs exposed if you can. I must assess the damage myself, otherwise I will not be able to rest. You say you can manage this on your own, but your face would say different. You are in a great deal of pain, Henrietta. I can see that you are.”

“It is not appropriate, my Lord Marquess.”

“I do not care for propriety at this moment, My Lady. My sole concern is for your welfare.”

She dropped her gaze. “Turn your back.”

“As you wish.” He twisted around until he was facing the adjoining doors, listening out for the rustle of her dress as she removed it. He forced himself not to picture her in any untoward manner, no matter how difficult the task proved to be.

“I am ready,” she said quietly. He turned back towards her, to find her lying on her side, atop the chaise, with the nightgown wrapped around her chest. She had her petticoat on, but the flat line of her stomach was exposed, along with the delicate features of her collarbone and shoulders. She had draped one arm across her chest, to further conceal anything.

He knelt at her side and lifted his hands to the wounded portion of her ribcage. It was clear to see where the injury had taken place, for her skin was dappled with deep blues and grays, peppered with livid red and purples, the edges fading into yellow.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, pressing gently.

She winced. “Yes.”

“And this?” He moved down her ribs.

“Not as much.”

“And here?” He touched the curve where her left rib gave way to her diaphragm.

“No, it is only where you first pressed.”

The bruising was much darker there, the skin almost black. Before he knew what he was doing, he lifted her fingertips to his lips and kissed them, before pressing a secondary kiss lightly to the damaged ribs. She froze for a split second, before her body relaxed at his touch. He did the same for the second and third of the bruised ribs, being careful to include every injury.

“Am I a child, to have my hurt kissed away?” she asked, her tone slightly teasing. He glanced at her, his heart thudding hard as he noted the twinkly spark in her eyes.

“That depends—is it working?”

“It makes it easier to forget that I have been injured.”

He traced his fingertips there again, smoothing his thumb across the unsettling pattern that the bruise had caused. It looked so stark against the pale complexion of her side. Indeed, he truly wished he could kiss it all away.

“And if I were to tell you that my lips smarted?” she said, her expression shy.

“I would have to kiss them, too.” He smiled nervously. “Tell me, Henrietta, do they hurt?”

She nodded. “A small pain.”

He leaned over, bracing himself against the edge of the chaise. Tentatively, he cupped her face in his free hand, wondering if he ought to. She had invited him to kiss her, and yet, he wasn’t sure what to do. If he kissed her now, would that change everything? Would that desecrate the memory of the love he had lost?

All of a sudden, she reached up and looped her arms around his neck. The jolt pulled him forward, his mouth catching hers quite by accident. He did not move for what seemed like a lifetime, his thoughts all over the place. And then, despite everything, the world fell away from him. He pulled her closer to him, careful not to hurt her further, and closed his eyes. Thinking only of her, he sank into the graze of her lips against his.