Page 95 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
She stepped off the graveled parking area onto the lawn. It was slightly damp and springy beneath her feet. Gazing around, she wandered down the nearest grass path, looking both ways when she reached an intersection.
She gasped. Down the path to the right, light reflected off the surface of a pond. She hurried along the path, which opened into a clearing on the side of the water. Willow treesfringed the clearing, and several ducks floated on the surface.
“Ah, you found the pond, then.”
She jumped, her hand flying to her chest. Andrew stood behind her, a basket in one hand and a blanket tucked under the other arm.
“You frightened me,” she said. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Ah, sorry.” He grimaced. “I did call your name, but you didn’t turn.”
Her cheeks heated. “I was admiring the view and must have been too distracted to notice.”
He gestured at a patch of grass in front of her. “Shall we set up our picnic here?”
She nodded. “Seems as good a place as any.”
He set the basket down, unfolded the picnic blanket, and laid it on the grass. Then he placed the basket in the center of the blanket and lowered himself onto one side of it.
“Join me?”
Carefully, Amelia lowered herself down, too, extending her legs and rearranging her skirts so as not to get them dirty. As he opened the basket and withdrew a flask and two teacups, she tried not to be charmed, but it was impossible.
“This is lovely. Thank you.”
He beamed. “I’m glad you like it.” He positioned the cups on the flattest bits of ground he could find and filled them with tea from the flask. “It’s already sweetened. I had Mrs. Baker add sugar.”
“Thank you.” Her heart squeezed. He really was very thoughtful. Was it any wonder she’d fallen halfway in love with him so easily?
He withdrew something wrapped in a cloth and opened it to reveal several buttered scones. “Would you like one?”
“Yes, please.” She accepted a scone and took a delicate bite from the corner. It was soft and slightly warm.
“Jam?”
She glanced over. Andrew held a small glass jar of berry jam and a spoon. She finished chewing and swallowed.
“What is this about?” she asked.
Something was going on here. She had the same subtle sense of unease she’d had when he was courting her under false pretenses. Her instincts were telling her that something was off-kilter.
Andrew frowned. “What do you mean?”
She waved her half-eaten scone at him. “You’re up to something.”
He looked affronted. “I am not. You deserve to be treated well, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“But it’s not…”Part of our agreement.She couldn’t bring herself to voice the thought.
“Not what?” He cocked his head. “I care about you deeply, Amelia, and I want you to be happy.”
Butterflies danced in her stomach, but at the same time, her heart sank.
She had such a sweet, kind husband. That was something to be grateful for. She was lucky to have him. But God, he made it difficult to resist him.
Perhaps sensing that she didn’t know how to respond, he opened the jam and spooned some of it onto another scone.
“I heard you reading to Kate the other evening,” he said, raising the scone to his mouth.
