“I made you cry not a week ago,” he reminded her with a sharp look. “In the room next to the study.”
“Because I was ashamed of my uncle, of myself, of…” She tossed her hands up. “You’re missing the point.”
“The point is that I should—”
“Allow me to make my point,” she finished for him with an annoyed glare. She waited until he’d held up his hand before continuing. “I’ve lived most of my life under the thumb of a man I was too afraid of to look in the eye. I can’t explain what it meant to me, to be able to say and do as I pleased without fear. To know that no matter how angry I made you, you’d never raise your hand to me, never hurt me. I very nearly reveled in that.”
“A man can wound with more than just his fists,” Whit informed her quietly.
“But no more or less than a woman,” she countered. “I took great pleasure in, and great advantage of, that equality. You didn’t fail me, Whit. You—” She took in his skeptical expression and changed tactics. “Perhaps…perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement.”
He sent her a look that was part exasperation and part amusement. “Another agreement?”
“We have had some success with them,” she reminded him with a small smile.
He considered her, and the idea. “I suppose we have,” he admitted after a time. “What did you have in mind?”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “How’s this? I will accept your apology for not protecting me in the manner you feel you should have. If you will accept mine for not informing you that I was in need of said protection.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve some reservations regarding the wording, but,” he was quick to add when her face turned mutinous, “I will agree to the general sentiment.”
“Then you’ll cease slouching about as if the burden of guilt was too much for you to bear?”
“I haven’t been slouching,” he retorted, and wondered if he could straighten his shoulders without being too obvious about it.
“And you’ll not treat me as if I were a cracked piece of porcelain or a sadly wilting flower?”
He gave her a pointed look. “I assure you, neither idea has ever occurred to me.”
“And you’ll—”
She broke off when he simply leaned down and pressed his finger to her lips. “I’ve agreed to your terms, Mirabelle. Now you’ll accept the fact it may take me a bit of time to become fully comfortable with them.”
She tried talking around his finger. “But—”
He used his thumb and index finger to press her lips together. “You’ll accept it.”
She pointed at the hand that kept her from responding, in acceptance or otherwise.
For the first time since entering her room, he smiled. “Blink once for yes.”
She narrowed her eyes first, but eventually complied.
“Good.” He freed her lips and bent to gently kiss her forehead. “Then we’ll consider the matter settled for now.”
“I should toss you from the room for that,” she groused.
“Probably, but then you’d be left with nothing to do.” He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “And the physician indicated that sleep was not the best course of treatment at this time.”
She shrugged and plucked at the counterpane. “I couldn’t sleep, at any rate. My mind won’t settle.”
“It’s been a difficult day for you,” he said softly.
“Difficult doesn’t quite cover it,” she replied with a rueful twitch of her lips. “But that’s not what’s troubling me now, not entirely. It’s the future.”
“The loss of your inheritance?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “I’d had so many plans, and now I’m uncertain of what to do. I was thinking…” Suddenly nervous, Mirabelle adjusted the covers on her lap. “I was thinking that a reference from you would go a long way in helping me secure a position—”
“You want to leave,” he interrupted stiffly.
“Yes. No.” She blew out a breath. She wasn’t at all sure what she was going to do yet. She simply wanted to know which options were available to her. “Not this very minute.”
“But when you’re well again,” he guessed.
Confused, and a little annoyed by the accusation in his voice, she sat up straighter against the pillows. “I’m not particularly unwell now.”
He jabbed a finger at her. “Attempt to get out of that bed and I’ll bloody well tie you to it.”
“I’m not getting up.” She’d tried it earlier, and had nearly fallen on her face for the effort. “And I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
“Don’t understand why I’m upset?” He dropped his finger to glare at her. “You tell me you want to leave, and you don’t understand why I’m upset? What’s wrong with your staying at Haldon?”
“Nothing!” She threw up her hands, frustrated. “And everything. Surely you didn’t expect me to always remain at Haldon, a hanger-on?”
There was a pause before he spoke. “I did once,” he finally admitted softly. “And rather liked the idea of it.”