Bringing his mind back to his purpose in even being here, he noted the open doorway to his right, strode over to it, and came to an abrupt halt. She was indeed sitting in a large overstuffed chair but wasn’t curled up. Her posture was erect, graceful, perfect. A dozen or so children in an assortment of poses—sitting cross-legged, on their knees, stretched out on their bellies—were gathered at her feet, all as enthralled as he was. She was reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, her voice animated as she took on the role of various characters. He was familiar with the tale as he’d given a copy to his niece at Christmas and she’d pleaded with him to read it to her, which of course he had. He had very little resistance when it came to the pleadings of the females ensconced in his life.

Which was no doubt the reason he was here—even if Miss Trewlove wasn’t exactly entrenched in his life, she was certainly some part of it. Otherwise, he’d be able to stop thinking about her, from wondering what precisely she was doing every minute she wasn’t visible to him. Entertaining children, it seemed.

She lifted her gaze from the words, and it landed on him as solid as a punch. Her mouth curled up at the corners, spreading her lips into a radiant smile as though she’d spied her salvation, the deliverer of whatever she desired. He should turn on his heel and leave at once. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, held in place by some invisible force—by her and the joy wreathing her face at his arrival.

“Mrs. Byng, will you be so kind as to take over the reading for me, please?” she asked, not taking her gaze from him, as though fearing he might disappear if she should. He wondered if she sensed his reluctance to remain.

A young woman with red hair seemed startled by the request. “Ah, Miss Trewlove, I don’t read nearly as good as you.”

“You read perfectly well, Mrs. Byng, and I’m certain the children would welcome a respite from my voice for a while. I would be forever in your debt.”

“Nonsense,” the young woman said, getting up out of her chair. “’Tis me wot owes you.”

He wondered exactly what her debt was. Probably a book she’d purchased on credit.

Miss Trewlove rose with such exquisite grace that she’d be putting a good number of Society’s ladies to shame the following week. Few matched her poise. After handing the book off to Mrs. Byng, she skirted around the children, patting a head here and there, before strolling elegantly toward him. It had been a long time indeed since he’d felt the pull of a woman. As much as he wanted to be nearer to her, he stayed as he was.