Fanny reached for him and found herself enfolded in Jeremy’s arms once more. There was a gentle strength about him that she found entirely comforting. His heart beat steadily under her cheek, soothing her. She wished she could stay like this forever. But no one stayed forever.
She drew back from him.
“Time for bed for you, too,” he suggested in a whisper.
“Yes, bed.”
Her bed, alone, where she would imagine the day over and over again and probably not sleep a wink.
Jeremy’s fingers twined with hers and he pulled her toward the hall. Fanny followed his lead, through the silent house, up the grand staircase.
At the top, she paused. “You’re very sure-footed in the dark.”
“Candles cost money,” he whispered. “And when you don’t have it to buy them, you learn to navigate without.”
Fanny turned for her chambers and the privacy they would afford her. She was teary again, something she’d rather no one else see.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Jeremy asked as he followed after her a few steps.
Fanny wasn’t sure. She had liked Antony Hawthorne very much, but surely she had not admired him this much. How could she explain her feelings when she really didn’t understand them herself? “No. Not really.”
The man drew closer. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
Fanny bowed her head. “What can anyone do to make the pain of loss go away or lessen.”
He placed his hands on her arms. “Rest will do you the world of good.”
But she didn’t think she could sleep without seeing Hawthorne’s face and that of her own late husband in death. “I will try.”
Jeremy inched closer still, and then leaned past her to open her bedchamber door. “Good night, my lady. I wish you only good dreams.”
As he said the last, she inhaled deeply. The scent of Jeremy so close, the warmth of his hand on her arm, made her breath stall. She remembered him holding her that day, beside the bed of the late Mr. Hawthorne, and downstairs in Father’s library just now. It had felt good to be comforted by him. She thought it would feel good again now, too.
Fanny reached blindly for his hand and, once caught, she drew him into the bedchamber with her. The door shut with a soft click and then she was in his arms, though she hadn’t had to ask to be held by him yet again.
His long arms wrapped around her body tightly, his warm hand pressed against the back of her neck. He dipped his head low beside hers and the warmth of his breath against her ear made her feel infinitely better. Fanny pressed herself tight against Jeremy and let him soothe her in a way she’d never imagined she’d ever need.
Of all the men in the world, an actor, a man she paid to appear as her admirer, was exactly what she needed most tonight. She turned her head so her cheek rested nearer his heart. The steady thumping rhythm made her warm all over again and pushed back the ugly memories of death.
She held on to him as long as she dared and then drew back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what has come over me today.”
“Everyone needs somebody now and then,” he murmured in a voice gone deeper and husky. Intimate. He remained close. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“How, where, did your husband die?”
Fanny gulped and closed her eyes. The most painful memory of all assailed her and it took a moment to form an answer. “He died in bed next to me. I woke and turned to wake him with a kiss and… I never want to live through a moment like that again.”
He frowned. “Is that why you haven’t remarried?”
“No. Yes, perhaps it is one of the reasons.”
He winced. “I’m sorry there was no one to comfort you then.”
Fanny nodded. “There were servants about, but it’s not the same as having someone, family, who loves you unconditionally to cling to at such a time.”
“I’m sure it’s not.” Jeremy smiled quickly. “It’s clear your family love you very much.”