Page 6 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
“You’re not wrong,” he said after a time, peering out through the trees beyond to the party. “I aspire to reside in Mayfair, but I’m not sure I love how you have painted us men. I like to think I might offer more than a terrible reputation or boring morality.”
“As if your sex doesn’t paint all women as troublesome, nagging, or sinful. We’re a burden. You need not tell us again, believe me.”
“Have I treated you like a burden?”
Tilly glanced down at her wrist wrapped with his cravat, then swallowed hard, seeking out the courage to meet his heated stare. “Not at all.”
It was the oddest thing, but she didn’t wish for this stranger to leave her, even after she had been rude and was the reason behind the gash at the base of his skull.
“I suppose you’ll head back then, yes?”
“I was leaving when…”
“You ran into me.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Now I’m also invisible? Well, thank you for your honesty.”
She threw her head back and laughed, reaching out her uninjured arm and placing her hand on his shoulder. It felt so forward and yet so natural. She didn’t know the man’s name, and yet she was ready to bare her soul to him. What was that madness?
Certainly not too much champagne.
It felt as if she had known him always, maybe in another lifetime, as her mother would say. And surely even if that was a bit of magical thinking, it would only begin to explain why she continued talking to him as if reconnecting with an old friend.
Well, not friend entirely.
She was much too preoccupied with thoughts of kissing him for that to be true.
She might not have initially seen him before crashing into the man’s chest, but truth be told, she hadn’t been able to look away from him since.
“Why were you hiding?” she asked, ignoring the urge to peek back over her shoulder.
“I wasn’t. I was leaving. Why were you running?”
She scrunched her nose and placed her hands in her lap. “I fear we don’t have enough time to discuss that.”
The stranger stretched, winced, then reclined back against the tree. “I don’t have to leave.”
“But you wanted to.”
“That was before I knew you were here.” He glanced down at his boots and chuckled. “That is, if you will allow it, I would like to talk with you further. You are very interesting.”
Interesting? My, she hadn’t heard that in years. Tilly instantly knew that self-deprecating laugh, and softened even more toward him, this strange grumpy man.
“How is your arm feeling?” he asked.
Tilly peeled back the blood-stained cravat and winced at the slice on her arm. Roger would be furious that she had been so careless. She hated how often over the past few months she needed to hide herself away to protect herself further.
“Oh, I’ll manage fine enough. I suspect I won’t lose it, and that’s a winning outcome.”
Again, that same exhale from the stranger who sounded similar to a laugh. Yet, not quite a laugh, as if he didn’t trust himself enough.
“If only I will be so lucky. I should plan on leaving soon to find a surgeon.”
Tilly leaned forward and held her hands out, desperate to keep this between her and the trees at Vauxhall. “Is it so bad as that?”
“Having a hole at the base of my head certainly isn’t great.”
