The gentleness in his eyes, though still present, moved aside to allow for deep earnest as the muscles in his jaw flexed. He asked again. “Do they not?”
Kitty nodded, pretending she didn’t notice every nuance of his expression. “Aye.”
He leaned forward, urgency coating his timbre. Gently holding tighter to her hand, he almost whispered. “I need to know what happened the night you were attacked.”
“What?” she breathed. He could not be serious.
“Kitty, I am done pretending I don’t know something is wrong. Who is doing this to you?”
Squirming, Kitty fought to keep her breath relaxed. “Who is... who is doing what?”
“Kitty.” He moved to the edge of the bed. “I only wish to help you, you must know that. I will protect you, I vow it—only you must trust me.”
Tears welled, blurring the wound along his eye. She had been the cause of that and despite her desires to trust, his safety trumped all.
“I cannot tell you.” Her voice was flat as the words hopped from her mouth before she could stop them.
He stilled, his posture pulling back. “And why not?”
She tugged her hand free from his, instantly aching from the vacancy that replaced the warmth of his touch. “Do not ask me.”
“Why, Kitty?” His brow pinched and his mouth stayed open as if more protests prepared to be spoken.
Her throat swelled until it nearly clogged off the air that reached down for her lungs. She swallowed a groan and turned away. “It is not for you to know.”
“It is for me to know.”
The compulsion to open her mouth and expel the awful truth she kept hidden was enough to make acid once again inch upward. She clenched her eyes shut, fear and hurt raging in her spirit like a tempest. “Please leave me.”
“As you wish.”
She shot her head in his direction. No, Nathaniel! I didn’t mean it!
He strode toward the door, and stopped, his mouth hard but hazel eyes soft as leather. “If you cannot place your trust in me, Kitty, I pray you will find strength to place it in someone.”
With that, he disappeared down the stairs and Kitty’s tears surfaced.
I trust you, dear Nathaniel. But I cannot trust myself.
Chapter Twenty-four
Despite Eliza’s continued prodding to stay abed and despite the protests of her sti
ll-fatigued limbs, Kitty dressed and made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The savory scents of yeast and nutmeg swirled in the air so heavy she could taste them, and somehow, her body’s strength began to rejuvenate amongst the sights and smells of the place she loved so well.
Eliza jumped when Kitty entered and her face immediately slackened. She propped a fist to her hip. “I truly cannot believe my eyes. You should not be out of bed.”
“I have more energy, do I not?” Kitty pulled her shoulders back and inhaled deeply, trying to forget the ugly reality that once again, the dreaded day had arrived. “You must admit I have more color and appetite. I should be up. ‘Tis healthy for me. You know even father would say as much.”
“I will admit no such thing.” Eliza twisted her mouth to the side. “I am not happy with you, but I cannot force you to stay abed.” She turned back to the dough on the table and plunged her floured hands into the white mass. “I believe were Nathaniel here instead of I, he would not so easily allow you to—”
“I am fine, truly.” Kitty laughed playfully to try and buoy both her own spirits as well as Eliza’s. She rolled up her sleeves and pulled a large section from Eliza’s dough before making it into smaller balls. “You can well empathize with my plight, I know. Staying in bed for so long makes one idle. A terrible feeling.” The pleasant stickiness on her hands provided yet more strength to her weary soul. Today’s dreaded task weighed upon her like a sack of milled wheat.
“Aye, but you were far more ill than you care to admit.” Eliza shook her head and placed a perfectly rounded bit of dough onto the pan.
“I don’t wish to speak of it. Nathaniel says I am well recovered, and I am.”
“Speaking of Nathaniel...” Eliza’s voice trailed away but the words she left unsaid were revealed in her eyes.