were sharp and measuring. She knew he was calculating how best to win her. A wager he’d already lost. Bella would not harm an innocent woman.
At that thought, her mind was suddenly clearer. So clear it hurt. The churning in her stomach was humiliation, she knew. But she would survive.
Unfortunately, shame was a bitter taste on her tongue, one she feared would never go away. It helped to remind herself that she was not the victim here. Lord Crawley’s wife bore that burden alone.
“Bella,” he pleaded.
Their stares locked, held. He was so handsome. And she loved him so much. Even now. Still. Self-directed anger and misery bubbled up, but Bella forced it back with a hard swallow. She had to come up with a plan to get him to leave before she agreed to do something she already knew she’d regret. It was her only hope of salvation. “I need time.”
A flicker of hope pulled his lips into a soft smile. “I understand.” He drew her hand to his lips. “But make your decision quickly. I have been patient long enough.”
It was a caddish remark, but Bella saw genuine emotion in the flash of anxiety that wavered in his eyes. In that moment, Bella realized he loved her. Truly loved her.
Yet, he would never understand her. His upbringing had taught him duty and possession and broken vows. Hers had taught her the sacredness of marriage and loyalty and obedience to Christ, her Lord and Savior.
With that last thought, her humiliation burned deeper.
She knew what she had to do now.
It was only years of training that enabled her to look him in the eyes without breaking into tears, knowing this was the end. “Allow me one day to consider.”
He dropped her hand. A smile hinting at his confidence slithered across his lips. “I will return before noon tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”
A knot twisted in her stomach as she watched him walk out the door. There would be no additional meeting. Her only chance was escape. And she knew just the place to run, a place where William would never dare to follow.
A small victory, to be sure, but hardly an honorable one.
She could only hope with distance and time, absolution would come.
Chapter One
One month later, Denver, Colorado
He couldn’t let her leave. Not without a fight. The spasm of panic shocked him, even as it pounded angry and insistent through his blood. For a moment—just one—Dr. Shane Bartlett had to fight the horrible urge to give in and beg, but he knew any display of emotion would be his doom.
For the sake of his patients, he had to ignore the choking sense of dread rising inside him and continue.
Jaw tight, Shane dragged a hand through his hair. If he was to win her over, persuasion had to be doled out in degrees of charm and skill.
Putting aside his frustration, Shane forced his heartbeat to slow to the same rhythmic cadence as the tick-tick-tick coming from the clock on the mantel behind him.
“Please, Miss Marley,” he said, curving a pleasant smile along the edges of his mouth. “I only ask that you hold off making a final decision until you hear me out.”
Her gaze remained direct and unwavering. But instead of responding right away, she clamped her lips shut and scrunched her forehead into a web of hard, vertical lines.
Shane felt his chest heave. Trying to gauge how best to present his argument, he dropped a glance over the woman in one quick swoop. Dressed in a drab gray dress and equally uninspired shoes, her bland brown hair looked as if it might have corroded onto her head. Her starched collar matched her rigid spine. In fact, she sat so straight and so far back in her chair, Shane was amazed the pattern from the upholstery hadn’t tattooed itself to her dress.
When he raised his gaze to meet hers, the cold eyes and pursed lips reminded him of the women he’d encountered throughout his childhood on the streets of New York City.
His instinct was to dismiss her at once. But he owed it to everyone involved to put his own feelings aside and conduct this interview with polite professionalism.
Taking another moment to control his emotions, Shane lowered his chin and scanned the references he held in his hand. He couldn’t deny Miss Marley had the nursing experience he needed in an assistant. Her background was without blemish, her training impeccable. But did she have the temperament required for the unique position he offered?
There was one way to find out.
“The Charity House orphans are—”
“Orphans?” Her eyes went narrow and frosty, while her lips curled with pitch-perfect disgust. “You use that term loosely, Dr. Bartlett.”
A muscle shifted in his jaw and Shane felt his smile slip.
Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these…
At the reminder of Jesus’s words, Shane had to fight back a wave of resentment at the woman’s sanctimonious attitude.
“Perhaps they are not orphans in the literal sense,” he acknowledged with a grim twist of his lips. “However, they are children who—”
She snorted. She actually snorted at him. The sound was harsh enough to stop him in midsentence.
“These children.” He paused to emphasize his point, but then a dull drumming pounded in his ears and the pattern on the rug at his feet bled into a kaleidoscope of chaotic colors. Shane shook his head and began again. “These children…deserve decent medical care like everyone else.”
She pierced him with a sharp look and spoke as though she hadn’t heard his words. “This is a house for harlots’ mistakes.” She lifted her nose and looked pointedly around her. “Is it not, Dr. Bartlett?”
Before responding, Shane followed her gaze as it moved beyond the Persian rugs, past the expensive furniture, and straight to the crystal vases filled with fresh-cut flowers. The attention to detail was impossible to miss. Charity House was like no other orphanage in the territory, incomparable in its elegance and style.
And yet, Shane wondered if he’d made a mistake in choosing the mansion’s front parlor as the place to conduct his interviews today.
He’d hoped that by showing the candidates the interior of the orphanage they would realize Charity House and its occupants had class and substance. Apparently, instead of unleashing this nursing candidate’s compassion, he’d opened her judgment.
Whispered reminders of his own childhood crept forward in his mind. Shane clenched his jaw, refusing to allow this woman to see his growing anger until he had the poisonous emotion under control.
He forced his shoulders to relax.
“Whatever you might think of these children, remember they did not choose their parents,” he said, surprised to hear his calm tone when so many ugly emotions churned just under the surface. “As I said before,
