He froze at the door, one foot on the other side of the threshold. Heat flared in his eyes. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Maybe not.” She leaned over the edge of the tub, trailed her fingertips through the deliciously hot water, and sighed in anticipation. “But I trust you.”

“I know,” he said soberly. “And I want to keep it that way.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and uttered a curse before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

An hour later, Sophie wore a fresh dress, and all her damp clothes had been collected and packed neatly into her portmanteau. She and Reese stood on the front step of Warshire Manor as the hackney cab rumbled up the long drive.

“Have you noticed that saying goodbye grows more difficult each week?” she asked.

“Aye.” He raked a hand through his sandy-brown hair, looking frustrated and impossibly handsome. “But I can bear it, as long as I know you’ll return next week.”

“Of course I will,” she assured him. “Barring something unexpected.”

His eyes turned wary. “Unexpected?”

She swallowed. “I don’t anticipate that anything will prevent me from meeting you as usual, but you must understand how terribly risky it is for me. I just don’t want to make promises that I might not be able to keep.”

“I know.” He scrubbed the back of his neck. “And I understand. I would hate for any harm to come to you because of me. We’ll be careful.”

As the hackney cab rolled to a stop in the drive, her fingers tingled with mild panic. She worried that they hadn’t made the most of their time. That the hourglass of their relationship was running out of sand much too quickly.

She longed to talk about what was happening between them, but it was far easier to discuss other things, like the garden. “I left a list of suggested garden improvements on your desk,” she said.

He nodded, as though pleased. “Consider them done.”

Summoning courage, she said, “I left something else on your desk too—the letters that were in your drawer. I don’t mean to pry, but is there a reason you haven’t opened them?”

Reese stiffened, and it was as though all the ease and affection that had flowed between them suddenly iced over. “Yes. There is a reason.”

If the hackney hadn’t been waiting, perhaps Sophie would have pressed him on it. But his fisted hands, distant stare, and clenched jaw said he wasn’t eager to explain the unread letters.