She sat there, silent for some moments beside him, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of her night rail. “I don’t suppose we should administer the tonic to Her Grace?” She released a shaky little laugh.

“No, you are quite right. Not without further testing. I had a spoonful. The next experiment should start with a droplet.”

She nodded, looking up at the ceiling of his bedchamber and the flickering shadows and wondering when he thought that experimentation should occur . . . especially as she would be leaving tomorrow. That had not changed. More than ever, she felt compelled to put distance between herself and him.

Although the idea of departing prompted a pang in the center of her chest. She resisted the urge to rub her fingers there, to ease the ache.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “Except I am departing tomorrow. Perhaps I can leave you with some of the tonic.” Of course it was unlike her to leave an experimental tonic in the hands of someone else, but she felt an overwhelming urge to flee. The exception could be made this once.

He stared at her with a hooded gaze, his dark eyes unreadable.

A long moment passed and then he replied. “I cannot believe you scaled balconies to reach my room.”

“What choice did I have? You would not open the door to me.”

“I don’t think you should leave on the morrow,” he said suddenly, returning to the matter of her declared intent to leave, proving that he had in fact heard her.

Her chest tightened and she grew a little breathless. “Why is that?” She searched his face, longing . . . longing for something.

She was not sure what she hoped to see, but she recognized the emotion squeezing her chest. The hope that encircled her like an invisible band.

He nodded slowly, resolutely. “I’ll not shirk my responsibility.”

Her smile turned unsure, wobbly on her lips. She was not certain what he meant. What responsibility did he speak of? Curing the duchess? From the first moment she met him he had claimed that as his duty. She moistened her lips. “What do you mean? You’ve proven yourself to be a very responsible gentleman. Unfailingly so.”

“I will do right by you.”

Her smile slipped altogether, uneasiness sinking through her, the invisible band around her loosening as the hope faded away. “Right by me?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand your meaning.”

He waved a hand, encompassing himself and her. “I do not make it a habit to ruin well-heeled ladies.”

Her stomach twisted and sank. Now she understood what he meant. He offered marriage. If one could call it an offer. It felt more like a stinging slap.