Page 18 of Atone, Adonis

“Yes, of course,” she shouted back, her voice coming out as sharp as the needle that now pricked her every time she moved. She swallowed and tried again. “All is well.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“I don’t know, Tom. Would you ask me questions you don’t want to know the answer to?”

He laughed and a genuine if tired smile crossed her lips as she bent over the mirror again, adding another pin. And then another.

Her fingers were clumsy with exhaustion; she’d hardly slept at all these last days. The cold spell just wouldn’t break, and she’d only managed to doze upright in a chair pulled outside of Thomas’s room, one ear trained toward the door so she could listen to his breathing.

She’d never tell him that, of course. For all he knew she slept in her little bed in the corner of the cottage every night. But she needed to be closer to him than that. It soothed her to press her ear to the door and listen to him breathe.

She added another pin and thought the dratted bodice might be considering submission when a knock sounded at the front door. Julianna’s head snapped up. She was wary of unannounced visitors now, thanks to Fred and the doctor. Perhaps if she remained motionless long enough, the person outside would leave.

But alas, no. The knocking was followed by the unmistakable scrape of boot on stone, and a coughing “ahem” that told her exactly who it was that stood outside her door. She nearly rolled her eyes back in her head. Her betrothed was here. Again.

She glanced down at herself, stuffed half in and half out of her ill-fitting gown and shrugged. If he was going to continue to show up unannounced she would be wearing what she was wearing when he did. She threw a shawl over the gaping bodice, pricked herself with half a dozen pins in the process, and went for the door.

But when she reached it, she placed her palm against the cold wood and said, “Go away.”

As if that might work.

“Open the door, Miss Farrow,” Fred said from the other side.

“I said go away.”

“I heard you.”

She opened the door a fraction. It was cold out, too cold and she shivered, causing yet another avalanche of pin pricks against her back and sides.

Fred let his gaze slide leisurely down her ridiculous attire. “You are not dressed to receive visitors.”

“You could spare yourself the sight of me by leaving.”

That’s when a throat cleared and Julianna saw an older woman tucked behind Fred’s shoulder, her white skin ruddy with the cold and her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun. She carried a carpet bag in her hand.

“If you don’t mind, Miss. It’s awfully cold out.”

Julianna narrowed her eyes at Fred but stepped aside to allow them in. She wouldn’t let an elderly woman freeze on her doorstep, no matter how much she disliked her fiancé.

“This is Mrs. Sykes,” he said, as though he were announcing a dinner guest. “She is a nurse.”

The woman dipped her head. “Good morning, Miss. I’ve been engaged to assist your brother.”

“Engaged by whom?” Julianna asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“My Lord Chester,” the nurse said.

“I see. Thank you, but we’ve no need for your services.”

Fred removed his hat and held it—there was no butler nor footmen here to collect the thing from him.

“Miss Farrow,” he said politely, “please allow Mrs. Sykes to do the job I have hired her on to do.”

“No.”

Mrs. Sykes shifted uncomfortably, but she remained where she was, eyes downcast.

Fred’s expression did not change. “Miss Farrow—”