Page 36 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)
Wendy started, her hand slipping from Stan’s as though retreating from something forbidden. Her eyes darted toward the doorway where Nick’s shadow lengthened, heralding the intrusion of duty.
She turned back to Stan, and her heart clenched at the sight of him. He had stepped back, his posture composed and his expression carefully neutral once more. Yet there was a flicker of something in his eyes—reluctance, perhaps, or the faintest echo of what had just passed between them.
Her breath hitched as she reluctantly relinquished his hand, fingers uncurling one by one. “Over here!” she called, forcing brightness into her voice, though she felt the wistfulness tugging at her chest.
Nick appeared in the doorway, his easy smile in full force. “Oh, there you are,” he said, glancing between them pleasantly. “Good evening, Stan.”
“Good evening,” Stan replied, his voice as steady as ever, though Wendy thought she caught the faintest edge of restraint in his tone.
“Would you like to join us?” Nick asked, stepping further into the room. “Violet mentioned that we ought to reconvene for dinner, and it seems Pippa has agreed at the mention of a hot roast.”
Stan gave a brief nod, his hands falling to his sides.
“Wait!” Wendy said.
*
Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line as Wendy spoke. “I ate when the patients did,” she said, her tone light and convincing enough to fool anyone who wasn’t paying close attention. But Stan wasn’t so easily deceived.
He’d seen the staff arranging the dinner table hours ago when he’d descended the stairs, taking care to remain unnoticed.
He knew the schedule well enough by now.
Wendy, for all her selflessness and dedication, rarely remembered to tend to herself, especially on busy days like this.
It had been that very thought that had spurred him to step outside in search of solace, only to stumble upon Wendy and Pippa in the garden.
Now, as he stood across from her in the soft glow of the drawing room, he narrowed his gaze, his thoughts swirling as he considered her.
She had a way of deflecting concern so deftly, turning attention elsewhere with a bright smile and a charming remark.
But the faint shadows under her eyes and the slight tension in her posture betrayed her.
She needed someone to look after her.
Wendy must have felt the magnitude of his scrutiny because she looked at him then—a searching look that made his chest tighten.
She was expecting something from him. What, exactly, he could not say, but the vulnerability in her gaze stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect her from every discomfort the world might throw her way.
“It’s truly some ices I’d much prefer,” Wendy continued, tilting her head with a small, wistful smile that nearly made him forget his thoughts altogether.
“From Gunter’s?” he asked, raising a brow.
Her face lit up, and her eyes opened just a touch too wide. “Oh, the one, you know! Mandarin and rosewater,” she said, her voice a bit too eager. “Unless it’s closed this late.”
Stan’s lips quirked in the faintest of smiles. She was playing at innocence, though it was clear she was fishing for something—and perhaps not only the ices she claimed to crave.
Before he could respond, Pippa’s voice drifted from the hall. “Nick, are you coming?”
Nick, who had been standing nearby, shifted awkwardly, his retreat more of a stumble than a step. “Should I come and pick you up later, then?” He asked, his glance darted between Wendy and Stan, as if he’d stumbled into a scene he shouldn’t have witnessed.
Stan saw his opportunity and seized it with the calm confidence that came naturally to him. “No,” he spoke measured but firmly. “Allow me to thank her with some ices and then bring her home to your townhouse in my carriage.”
Wendy turned her head toward him quickly, her brows cinching together in surprise.
“That’s hardly proper,” Nick protested, his expression tightening. “You two shouldn’t be seen alone together.”
“I’m still a patient at Cloverdale until I’ve been officially dismissed,” Stan replied smoothly, his voice steady with reason. “This isn’t socializing. This is ensuring I remain safely under my nurse’s care.”
Wendy arched a brow at her brother and added, “Precisely. I’m his nurse, Nick. My priority is his wellbeing, nothing more.”
Nick hesitated, his frown softening at their reasoning but not entirely vanishing. Wendy drew her eyes wide and gave him a look that almost dared him to argue further.
“If you’re certain, Stan,” Nick said reluctantly, his voice nearly mumbling.
“I am,” Stan replied simply, his tone leaving no room for debate. His gaze flicked back to Wendy, catching a hint of softness in her eyes before she quickly turned away.
Stan shifted his focus entirely back to Wendy now, watching as her expression softened, her lips curving into the faintest shadow of a smile. She dipped her head once, a quiet acceptance that made his pulse quicken.
He could not say whether his offer stemmed from pure chivalry, concern that she hadn’t eaten properly, or some deeper, unspoken desire to extend their time together.
Perhaps it was all these things; perhaps he did not care to question it too deeply.
What he knew was this—he wasn’t ready to see her go just yet.
Choices for which there were no words often felt the truest.
“I shall have the carriage prepared at once,” he said, the slight incline of his head wholly formal. But when Wendy lifted her gaze again to meet his, something far less composed stirred between them.
Nick excused himself kindly, heading toward Pippa and the others. As the hall quieted once more, Stan extended his arm toward Wendy—a simple gesture, yet one brimming with unspoken meaning.
“Shall we?” he asked, his tone steady yet touched with warmth.
Her fingertips drifted against his sleeve, feather-light.
A pulse leapt in his wrist before he could still it.
The space between them contracted, charged and breathless, as if the air itself dared not interrupt.
Her eyes sparkled with a playful light that caught him unguarded, sending an unexpected ripple of giddiness through him, as if the room itself had grown warmer.
She looked up, her gaze glinting with restrained mischief—or was it hope?
“I suppose it would be improper to deny His Highness’s gracious offer,” she teased softly, though her quiet laugh masked something more tentative lurking beneath her words.
He smiled at that—not widely, not openly, but enough to sense the corners of his guard shift. Cracks of something new and unfamiliar edged into the quiet between them as they turned toward the door together.