Page 32 of The Austen Affair

Dr. Goddard runs the swollen fingers of his hand through his thinning hair. “I have never been more insulted! Really, never in all my years—”

Hugh’s gaze flies to mine. I see triumph momentarily blazing there, only to shrivel and die as I watch it replaced with anxiety in real time.

And I think I know why. Because… well, we’ve done it.

We’ve stopped a toxin from knocking George very possibly into a coma, but we have no plan moving forward to explain ourselves.

And Hugh doesn’t exactly thrive without a plan.

But I can help, doing what I do very best: improvisation.

I raise my voice with all the dignity of a great lady.

“Dr. Goddard, I beg you to settle yourself. What womanly histrionics.” A petty delight invigorates me as Dr. Goddard splutters in response to me throwing his misogyny back at him.

His speechlessness gives me the opportunity to plow on.

“Lest you forget, Mr. Balfour has recently returned from the front, and he told me of the many, many soldiers who, once administered chloroform, went to sleep and never woke up again. It is increasingly not recommended as a course of treatment by the most avant-garde, cutting-edge doctors in our empire. It comes with too many risks.”

Douchey as ever, Dr. Goddard turns to Hugh for confirmation. Picking up where I left off, he nods gravely, adding only, “We lost almost as many men to chloroform as to Napoleon.”

Aunt Fanny cries out, “Good heavens!” and collapses. Hugh and Dr. Goddard rush to her side, Dr. Goddard producing his trusty vinaigrette in order to rouse her.

When Aunt Fanny comes to her senses again, there is a quick shouting match between her and Dr. Goddard.

Luckily, Aunt Fanny commands too much respect for him to try talking to her the way he spoke to me.

Our mention of the possibility of fatal side effects has done the trick.

She is thoroughly converted to our side, and she insists that Dr. Goddard only take the mildest of restorative measures moving forward.

In the face of our certainty, he prepares George an herbal infusion that looks harmless, and quite possibly helpful, then doffs his hat to the ladies and departs, fuming.

Aunt Fanny puts a hand to her stomach and exhales in an exhausted puff.

She kisses each of us on the cheek and then shoos us from George’s room.

“You two let me take a shift with him now. You’ve been here for hours, the last thing we need is to have to move the wedding back because one of you caught something while tending to him. He’s a young boy—they are resilient.”

Hugh’s hand, sure and steady, moves to the small of my back. Sparks ignite at his touch as he nods toward the door. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I say.

And as the door paddles shut behind us, I seize his hand, taking him wordlessly down the hall to my room.

Sealed into the privacy of my quarters, I start babbling with nervous energy. “I think we did all right, didn’t we? The herbal tea seemed fine. It’s not like it could contain something crazy, like arsenic or mercury or—”

Then Hugh leans down, cupping my face in his hands, and swiftly presses his lips to mine.

Every nerve ending in my body lights up with a warm glow, starting from the delicate skin of my lips and radiating outward. My heart expands, lifting like a helium balloon. Hugh Balfour is kissing me… and this time, it was his idea.

My hand strays to the ascot tied around his neck, instinctively knowing that it needs to be unknotted and gone.

I rip it away, even as I open my mouth, welcoming him to plunge deeper.

The scrap of navy silk in my hand drifts to the floor, and now my greedy fingers are free to caress the exposed stubble of his throat.

Correspondingly, his hand wanders down to the curve of my ass, applying a firm pressure that makes me moan.

He moves his lips from mine, migrating down to the ex posed territory of my breasts.

The back of his neck smells like leather and bay rum.

“You were a very sexy nurse,” Hugh growls against my bare skin.

“It felt like torture to watch you but not be able to touch you.” My nipples harden against the muslin of my dress, and I’m already wet between the legs.

I’m not the only one getting heated up. I can feel him stiff against me, and the promise of his excitement makes a colony of butterflies dance in my stomach.

I laugh, giddy, then tease him in a husky voice that matches his own.

“If I had known that was your fantasy, I would have administered leeches hours ago.”

I feel a warm huff of air from Hugh’s laugh as he expels it, right behind my ear. “You blend nightmare and desire so seamlessly, Tess.”

I try to counter with another dazzling bit of witty repartee, but when I open my mouth, all that comes out is a breathy moan.

Words have melted away amid this pleasure like sugar on my tongue, and I’m afraid I won’t find them again.

Hugh is now placing tender kisses along the nape of my neck, which has always been my go-to kink, and he’s doing it so well —

“Stop,” I say, hating my traitorous self, because he’s just started blowing on my neck and my knees are starting to collapse in an ecstatic daze.

Hugh stops as suddenly as a soldier bid to halt by their commanding officer.

We are frozen in an embrace for a brief moment, and then he pulls away.

Even though I called it off, I am sorely disappointed to no longer feel him hard against me.

The removal is almost enough for me to demand an immediate return, but in a triumph of levelheadedness, I stay strong.

I take shallow breaths to ready myself for what I have to say, and Hugh’s face blanches with trepidation as he waits for me to speak.

Words of apology trip over themselves coming out of his mouth.

“I’m terribly—terribly—I shouldn’t have done that.

It was—was by no means my intention to make you uncomfortable—it’s just that you seemed overwhelmed with anxiety and I thought that might, might help—”

I put my hand on his chest and can feel his heartbeat racing beneath my palm. “Don’t apologize,” I tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I greatly enjoyed it. It was a very effective remedy.”

Hugh’s cheeks pink with surprised pleasure. “Oh? Then—”

I rush to explain. “I think I enjoy it too much. It’s a recipe for disaster, really. You see, I tend to get my heart broken easily. I get really attached really fast, and it hurts a lot when things fall apart.”

I think about the roller coaster of emotions I’ve gone through since arriving here.

Up from our first kiss, then crashing down after our fight, exploding back to great heights on Beacon Hill and then plummeting to a crater when I suspected Hugh of sleeping with Cecelia.

It is becoming clear that I cannot handle this Taylor Swift–like range of emotions in a healthy way, at least not right now.

And based on my dating history—full to the brim with self-sabotage and rushing things straight off a cliff—maybe I’ve never had that skill.

I take a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to start something with you if we’re not on the same page, because my heart isn’t exactly in its best state of health recently.

I can’t take one more letdown, so if I’m going to get let down, I’d rather not begin.

Besides, you’re the only person in this crazy time-warp situation who really knows me.

I can’t risk this spiraling out of control and losing the one person on my team. ”

I stare down at my shoes, waiting for him to quietly retreat from the room, muttering something sheepish and polite and British.

Instead, Hugh Balfour shocks me by moving closer, closing the gap between us.

He brings his fingers to my chin and lifts my head until I’m gazing straight into his eyes.

They are fathomless and dark, framed by those long, silken lashes, and something seems to be moving in their depths.

Like lava shifting far beneath the earth’s surface.

The effect is as magnetic as the day we first met and screen-tested for our potential chemistry. The casting director saw flickers of something great between us then—and now I know what she saw.

Hugh’s brows furrow as he tries to spit out his next words.

He seems almost in physical pain as he battles a lifetime of opposing instincts.

“I find it difficult, much of the time, to arouse any overwhelming feelings much beyond anxiety. I must be naturally repressed, because my strongest emotions always seem out of reach. Worry preoccupies my days. I draw back, limiting the number of catastrophes that could potentially occur. You… are not like that.”

I give an amused grimace. “Of course. I’m a battering ram. I throw myself headfirst into chaos.”

“No,” Hugh says, his voice louder than I anticipated.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I try my damnedest to avoid entanglements.

You don’t. You… you love things. You love people, conversation, activity.

You take a lively interest in others, not only an interest, but you genuinely care for their welfare.

It doesn’t seem to matter that you’ve only known them a short while.

You defend Isabella Dixon. You nurse George.

You love. And I—love—” He coughs. “—love—that quality about you. I admire you most sincerely. I wish I had half the capability, but so often I feel… paralyzed.”

My breath catches in my chest. “What are you saying?”

Hugh gives a soft laugh. “I hardly ever know what I’m saying. That’s why I work best on script. But… I have no intention of causing you pain.”

A bittersweet swell of emotions prevents any further words from passing my lips.

I stand on my tiptoes and press a kiss against the flat, stubble-dotted terrain of his cheek.

I let myself linger against his skin, breathing in the spicy musk of his cologne once more.

I feel my heart break and re-form and break again in the span of this brief moment.

Suns rising and falling and rising again.

I hide it well sometimes, but it is so easy for people to hurt me. Even if they don’t mean to. Hugh Balfour doesn’t know it, but I’m already deep in the throes of exquisite pain that comes from raised hopes. And I know better than most how hard the fall can be when those hopes are dashed.