‘It wasn’t like that,’ he finally said, his voice quiet and strained.
Nellie pushed her chin forward and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, it hardly matters what it was like. I’m leaving. That’s the end of the matter.’
After all, I’ve done enough damage already.
‘Now, I’d appreciate it if you went back to your guests. I’ve a train to catch and a business to run.’
‘But, Nellie...’
‘Miss Regan,’ she forced herself to say to him. ‘I’m not your servant, you can call me Miss Regan. You may have wanted to do what countless other men in your position have done with servants, but that doesn’t mean we’re on equal terms.’
Nellie knew her harsh words and tone had hit home. Shock and pain seemed to wage a war on his face, until it finally set into that stern, arrogant expression he had worn when she first saw him. As cruel as her words were, they were right. They could never be on equal terms. They came from different classes and nothing could ever change that.
‘As you wish, Miss Regan. Then this is goodbye.’ He remained standing in front of her.
Nellie leaned forward and looked along the empty track as if more concerned about when the train would arrive than what had just happened between herself and the man she loved.
‘Yes, goodbye, Mr Lockhart.’
He turned and strode off down the station, his back rigid. Nellie watched him walk away. She took a few steps towards him. Should she chase after him? Should she tell him that she didn’t mean the harsh things she had just said? Should she go to him and tell him she was sorry, that she didn’t think he was like countless other men who had tried to take advantage of a servant?
But then what would she say? She halted. Would she tell him she loved him, that she didn’t care if she ruined his life as long as she could be with him?
She took another, hesitant step in his direction, just as the train puffed its way into the station. The train that would take her away from the man she loved. Despite her firm resolution she cried out to him to come back. The hissing engine stopped in front of her, releasing a billowing wall of steam that engulfed the station and drowned out her cries.
He disappeared around the corner of the station and, with tears coursing down her cheeks, Nellie entered the train that would take her away from Dominic Lockhart.
Chapter Seventeen
It was over. Nellie was determined to put the past where it belonged, firmly behind her, and get on with her life. But that would be so much easier if she wasn’t constantly thinking about Dominic Lockhart, if she wasn’t forever remembering the way he looked, the sound of his voice, the heady masculine scent of him and, worst of all, the touch of his lips, the caressing stroke of his hands.
Fight it as much as she could, those memories kept invading her thoughts. Not for the first time, she shook her head as if she could physically drive out those memories. She should not be thinking of him now, not when she was working. She had to concentrate on what she was doing.
Forcing herself to focus, she continued to curl and clip her client’s hair into place. The customer had been chatting while Nellie had styled her hair, but Nellie had heard hardly a word, too preoccupied with her own whirling thoughts. Fortunately, the client had been content with the occasional nod of encouragement from Nellie and seemed oblivious to the fact she had not been listened to, but this would not do.
She stood back to inspect her work, hoping her distraction was not too evident in the woman’s hairstyle. She could not afford to let her high standards drop, no matter how distracted her mind was becoming. It was vital that she think about her work and not that man.
Her client turned her head from side to side and smiled. ‘Oh, Miss Regan, you are a wonder. I can’t thank you enough.’
With relief, Nellie smiled her thanks and escorted the young woman out to the front room, where Harriet took her money and, like the good saleswoman Harriet was, pointed out some interesting hair adornments and cosmetics the lady might like to purchase as well. Nellie smiled at Harriet and pushed aside the silk curtains to return to the parlour. As soon as the curtains fell back into place her smile died, her shoulders slumped in dejection.
She had intended to tidy up before the next customer. Instead she collapsed into an armchair, exhausted from all this pretence. It was hard to maintain a façade of happiness when your heart was breaking, hard to act as if all was right with the world, when your world had been turned upside down and you no longer knew what to think or feel.
She put her head in her hands. Free of the strain of pretending to be happy in front of her client, the full extent of her misery overtook her. It had only been a week since she had left Dominic at the train station, so it wasn’t surprising that she still felt distraught. But how long was she going to have to suffer this torment before she got that man out of her system? How long before Dominic ceased to be permanently in her thoughts? How long before he stopped invading her dreams? How long until she could do what she was
