A lump lodged in her throat. She’d always longed for a relationship that would work that way. She’d always wished for a partner who’d do thoughtful little things like put cream in her tea and rub her hands when it was cold.

Never in a million years would she have dreamed that an ornery, if devastatingly handsome, earl would prepare a hot bath for her.

“I insist,” he said, and when she shivered, he crossed his arms as though he didn’t trust himself not to haul her against his chest.

“Thank you,” she said simply as she twirled the stem of the wilted peony between her fingers. “I suppose I should go upstairs and dry off.”

His face brightened. “While you’re waiting, you could survey the garden. There’s an excellent view of it from my bedchamber window, just down the corridor from yours.”

“You don’t mind me going into your bedchamber?” she asked.

His mouth curled into a wicked, knee-melting grin. “Do you really have to ask?”

Sophie swallowed. “I just meant … that is, you are a rather private person.”

He slowly walked over to her and stood so close that she could see the sprinkling of hair covering his muscled forearms, which were crossed over his chest. “To be perfectly clear,” he drawled, “you are welcome in my bedchamber anytime you like. And you may do whatever you like there. Anything you like.”

Good heavens. Mere seconds ago, she’d been chilled. Now, she barely resisted the urge to fan herself. “That’s very generous,” she quipped. “But I think I’ll content myself with admiring the garden.”

“You could also make a list of further improvements you’d like me to undertake.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, curious at his choice of words. “You?”

He shrugged off her question. “Feel free to use my desk and avail yourself of anything you need.”

“Very well,” she said, thoughtful. “I shall see you upstairs, then.”

She quickly made her way to her room, stripped off her damp shift, and slipped on the soft, dry nightgown she’d packed in her bag. She carefully placed the peony and the ribbon in her portmanteau before heading down the hall to Reese’s room.

Despite all his assurances that she was welcome there, she hesitated at the door. Crossing the threshold of a gentleman’s bedchamber was a momentous occasion, but her trepidation was due to more than that. The more she knew about Reese, the more she cared about him. And the more she cared about him, the harder it would be to say goodbye when the time came.

Still, she couldn’t resist the chance to learn more about him.