“She… she sounds quite fond of me,” she managed to say.
Warmth glittered in Algernon’s eyes.
“We all are,” he answered. His tone felt like velvet over her skin. Warm. Soft.Intimate.
Their gazes remained locked for quite some time, and it was only when her lungs began to burn that Beatrice remembered that she was supposed to breathe. She drew in a deep, shaky breath, recalling how lovely it had been to snuggle into Algernon’s lap and fall asleep there.
Then a thought came, filling her with a sadness that she did not expect.
If things went successfully with Henry, she would never experience such a thing again. Not with Algernon at least. Would she feel the same comfort in Henry’s arms? Would he hold her as tightly as Algernon had?
“The cuts are many, but they are shallow,” Algernon said, breaking her from her thoughts. “After a day of leisure, I see no reason why you could not go back to your lessons. You must be prepared for when you attend this ball with Henry. Even if you are going to perform this play as a mystery, people will speak of you if you make a mistake.”
Beatrice swallowed, watching the memories of that night blur and fade into nothingness as Algernon resumed cleaning her left hand.
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I need to be ready.”
“Mhm,” Algernon murmured, drawing his focus back to her hand.
“These costumes Henry spoke of,” Beatrice said, trying to push back the odd feelings threatening to take over her. “The way he way he spoke about them with such excitement. Do you think they will be… extravagant?”
Algernon let out a dry laugh as he began dressing her left hand with another clean, white bandage.
“With Henry everything is extravagant,” he told her. “Do not worry. It will most likely not be your mistakes thetonwill whisper about the extravagance of your gown.”
Beatrice smiled, but it felt hollow.
Both her hands cleaned and wrapped now. Algernon rose from his chair and began gathering the bowl of hot water and dirty makeshift bandages onto a tray. Immediately she missed the warmth of his closeness and could not help but look at him.
“Thank you for tending to me,” she told him. “You could have told Mrs. Sheer or even Mira to do it.”
“They will have the responsibility tomorrow,” he stated, his words aloof and matter of fact as he picked up the tray. “I need to leave for Morcaster in the earl morn.”
Beatrice’s heart immediately sank upon hearing this, but she tried not to show it.
“Oh?” she asked, hoping she sounded nonchalant.
“I have business to take care of there. I do not know how long it will take,” he explained in the same tone as before. “Do not worry though. My staff is very aware of our unwanted visitors from before, and they will ensure that they will not come again. I have also spoken to Henry, and he has reassured me that he will bring all of his seamstresses and such here to design your gown, so you will not have to go out.”
He paused halfway to her door and turned around with a smirk.
“My staff are also very aware of my insistence that you eat your regular meals,” he added. “They will alert me if you are not able to complete such a task.”
Beatrice was sure that he said such things to make a playful jab at her, but after the story Henry had told on their walk, she did not much feel like joking about it. Not now, not after knowing why it meant so much to Algernon that she eat.
“I will finish every meal,” she promised, meeting his gaze.
His smirk slowly slipped from his handsome face, and with his usual stoic expression, he gave her a nod.
“Sleep well, Beatrice,” he murmured then turned back to the door.
“You as well,” she softly replied.
Yet as she heard the door open and close, and she felt the sudden, pulsing loneliness in her room, she silently wished that once more, she could curl up on his lap to find sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nine Days Later