“No.” Miss Narayan pulled at his other arm, hanging back toward the side of the room. “I…I do not think it wise for our group to draw much attention.”
Francis frowned at that. He’d never had a woman afraid to be seen with him. In fact, debutantes and their mamas were forever going out of their way to be connected with him in public.
Still, Francis had a game to play, and his strategy involved supporting Miss Narayan’s whims.
“Whatever you say, my dear,” he said, smiling.
Miss Narayan snapped a wary look up to him, probably because of his use of the endearment. The worry in her eyes went beyond simple scolding for Francis saying something out of turn, though. Miss Narayan wasn’t simply angry, she was afraid.
A different sort of concern began to bubble up under Francis’s determination to win his game against Miss Narayan as they settled into seats at the very back and side of the lecture hall. Something had changed in Miss Narayan from their first encounter. She had been feisty and outspoken in Hyde Park. As the lecture began, she seemed withdrawn and anxious. She picked at her gloves the entire time the lecturer spoke, and if Francis wasn’t mistaken, she wasn’t paying attention.
Francis didn’t like it. Miss Narayan’s anxiety ignited a protectiveness in him that wasn’t a part of the game at all. He ignored the lecturer’s droning words, focusing instead on learning the intricacies of Miss Narayan’s mannerisms—the way she breathed shallowly until her need for air caused her to sigh, the slope of her shoulders as she hunched in on herself, the way her eyes never once lifted from watching her hands as she fiddled with her gloves. It was alarming in its subtlety.
At last, as the lecturer concluded what he promised was the first half of his ramblings, when Francis couldn’t contain his roiling concern for Miss Narayan any further, he reached over and settled his hand over her fidgeting ones. Miss Narayan let out a breath that was half gasp, half sob, then went completely still. She didn’t move her hands away from his, so he took a risk and grasped one of them, threading their fingers together.
Francis caught Miss Sloane’s approving grin out of the corner of his eye as she sat on Miss Narayan’s other side. It suggested to him that, whatever was wrong with Miss Narayan, her friend wasn’t aware of it. That intrigued Francis. It twisted his insides with compassion for Miss Narayan as well. Whatever she was forcing herself to endure, she was doing it alone.
A polite smattering of applause pulled Francis from his thoughts.
“And now, we will have a short intermission before continuing with the second half of our lecture, the reign of William and Mary,” the lecturer said. “Refreshments are available in the room across the hall.”
It was as though the man had sounded a battle cry. Half the audience rose from their chairs and bolted for the door. It was enough to make Francis chuckle and wonder what was being served for refreshments, or if the students in the audience were being fed in whatever boarding houses or dormitories they lived in.
“I’ll fetch us something to eat,” Miss Sloane said, leaping to her feet and stepping into the aisle. “Why don’t the two of you stay here and discuss what we’ve learned so far.”
Francis sent Miss Sloane a sly look. Miss Narayan glanced pleadingly at her friend. Miss Sloane merely giggled and headed off, leaving Francis and Miss Narayan alone.
Francis would have made a joke or figured out a way to take advantage of the situation, but the suddenly panicked look in Miss Narayan’s eyes changed his plans entirely.
“Won’t you please tell me what is upsetting you, Miss Narayan?” he asked, hoping his genuine concern shone through in the warmth of his tone. “You cannot deny that something has unsettled you this evening.”
Miss Narayan glanced mournfully at him. Her expression was made all the more painful by the fact that there was as much affection as dread in it. She liked him. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide that. Perhaps she liked him quite a bit, but it seemed to make her miserable.
Francis cleared his throat, glanced around to determine whether anyone was paying attention to them, then stood. “Come,” he said, lifting her hand that he still held and prompting her to stand as well. “Let us find someplace a bit more private to converse.”
“It isn’t proper for us to be unchaperoned, Lord Cathraiche,” she reminded him, even though she let him lead her the short distance from where they sat into the hallway.
The museum was crowded for a Monday evening, but most of the people who had fled the lecture hall to snatch up the refreshments being offered weren’t paying a lick of attention to them. All the same, Francis led Miss Narayan down the hall and into the first unoccupied room he could find—another, empty lecture hall.
“Now,” he said, turning to face her once they were alone, “would you please share with me what has you so tied in knots this evening, Miss Narayan?” Again, he tried to speak as kindly as possible.
It was difficult to tell if his tone and offer of friendship had an impact. Miss Narayan turned her face away from him, and for a moment, Francis thought she might cry. It was so incongruous to what he knew about her that his insides screamed, demanding answers.
“Please, Miss Narayan,” he said in a softer tone still. “Please consider me your friend above all else. I can see that something is not right with you, and I only wish to do whatever is in my power to make it better. Forget everything else for the moment. My one concern is your wellbeing.”
He shocked himself with his words, because they weren’t part of the game. He didn’t feel as though he were playing a game at all anymore. He meant what he said with genuine feeling. He cared about Miss Narayan. If her anxious expression had been caused by a dragon, he would have galloped off to slay that dragon. It wasn’t at all what he was supposed to be feeling in that moment. Nothing was going to plan.
But perhaps this plan was a better one.
At last, with a light, shuddering breath, Miss Narayan glanced up at him. “You are too kind, Lord Cathraiche,” she said, her voice far smaller than it should have been. Francis opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him with, “No, truly, you are too kind. You cannot behave this way toward me.”
“Kindness is never a fault, Miss Narayan,” he said, confused by her words and the sudden intensity in her demeanor. “I will admit to being a bit heavy-handed in my efforts to woo you, but they seem unimportant to me now. Something is clearly distressing you, and I wish you would tell me what it is so that I might fix it for you.”
She drew in a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to fight off tears. “Your kindness touches me, my lord,” she said breathlessly. She opened her eyes and stared hard at him. “You infuriate me as well.”
Francis grinned, grasping onto that small return to normalcy. “I do my best.”
She surprised him, and not in a good way, by letting out a hopeless sound of misery. “Please stop, my lord. I…I cannot be lured into affection that should not be acted upon, cannot be acted upon.”
Francis drew in a breath. Was that it? Was she afraid that if she accepted his suit it would somehow be inappropriate? Because of her nationality, perhaps? Her family?
“I can assure you, Miss Narayan, whatever obstacle stands between us, we can find a way through it.” He took another, bold risk and brushed his hand across her cheek. “I find you exquisite and lively and wonderful in every way. If your concerns are the difference in our situations in life or the expectations of your family—”
“No!” she shouted, nearly pleading. She gasped and sent a furtive look toward the door, then lowered her voice to a whisper and went on with, “I mean, yes. My family and the differences between us are everything in this situation. There are…things that I have not revealed. To anyone. Things that make it impossible for me to respond to your suit, even though…even though….”
Francis held his breath, his heart running riot in his chest. This was not the way he was supposed to feel. He was not supposed to fall in love with Miss Narayan with such an intense, frightening passion.
“Even though I desperately want to,” she finished at last, her voice a mere whisp.