Page 46 of Surrender to the Earl
“If I’m taking Molly’s place,” he said, “am I supposed to tell you you’ll develop freckles doing that?”
She gave a little groan. “No, never that. I already have freckles, and they’re not from the sun. They’re?—”
She broke off, and he saw her face go all blotchy red before she turned away.
“You’re going to leave me like that? Where are the freckles?”
She lifted her chin. “None of your business. A gentleman wouldn’t ask.”
“I’m a soldier. We’re a crude lot.”
She ignored him, and he shook his head, smiling. She was far too easy to tease. Several peaceful minutes passed, where they listened to the birds, and he pointed out natural landmarks, a winding stream, a copse of trees sheltering a fox.
At last, she asked, “Robert … do you think my tenantswantto meet me? Am I making a mistake?”
He put his free hand on hers. “Not at all. This is a small estate, and you’ll all be living near one another. I believe it’s good for people to know they can come to you with questions. That’s one thing the army taught me, to take care of the men below me, to understand my responsibilities.”
“But I thought your father steeped you in your responsibilities whenever you weren’t in school?”
“But not the same way. I don’t think employees and tenants were realpeopleto Father. They were chess pieces to be manipulated, like he was a god. One can make bad decisions when one doesn’t consider how the people themselves will be affected.”
And he’d been heading down that path, too. Investing had been a game to him, a new way to liven up what he thought was a boring life. Before he was even twenty-one, he’d been bored by gambling and much of Society, since he hadn’t been planning to marry right away. There were women, of course, but not the kind of women who cared about him and wanted to be cared for in return.
“Ah, I think we’re approaching the first cottage,” he said, relieved to put the memories behind him.
“What does it look like?” she asked.
He could hear the trepidation in her voice. Cottagers often had terrible conditions in which to raise their children. But these were decent. “Thatched-roof, brick walls, and it looks as if they have at least three or four rooms inside.”
She let her breath out slowly. “Oh, that’s a relief.”
“I can see a little kitchen garden behind, flowers growing in front.”
“Even better.”
“There’s a goat tethered in the back.”
She laughed. “And I hear chickens in the yard.”
He jumped down, then reached up for her. She held on to the back of the bench, searching with her foot for the step down.
“Lean out to me. I’ll catch you.”
She frowned. “If you’ll just guide my foot?—”
“You don’t trust me? Your own fiancé?”
She tilted her head toward the cottage, and he knew she was wondering who was observing them.
“There’s a little boy standing in the open doorway, thumb in his mouth. He’s watching us quite solemnly.”
She scrunched up her nose, and he laughed aloud.
With no warning, she leaned out from the curricle. He caught her waist in both hands, holding her suspended for an extra moment, so he could stare up at her face against the bright, cloud-dotted sky.
What was he doing?
Easing her down onto her feet, he resisted the urge to hold her close. She wasn’t his fiancée, much as they were pretending it for the world. She was a woman who’d been badly hurt—who never wanted to marry again. And he was a man who didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know if he could ease back into his old life without easing back into old ways.
