Page 22 of Bargaining for the Barrister
She was sorry? Miss Cox was much too generous. “I feel like a cad.” He ran his hand over his face. “You are our guest, and you have made my parents happier than I have ever seen them. Please forgive me for not taking you to the orchard this afternoon.”
“You have my complete forgiveness.”
“Thank you. And I must say you are a very good liar.”
A teasing glint sparkled in her eyes. “It wasn’t an outright lie.”
“That’s why it was so perfect. In my career, I normally detest dishonesty, but I find I am a little impressed.”
“I don’t make a habit of such things, but I did not want you to get in trouble on my behalf. I knew you were busy with your case, and I was perfectly content with my book.”
A smile pulled at his own mouth. Miss Cox continually impressed him. Couldn’t they be friends? Just for tonight? “Shall we start again?”
“I would like that,” she finally said. And he was sure she meant it.
His arm came up again, the tightness of his posture still tense. He tried to offset it with a reassuring smile. When she took his arm, she allowed more natural pressure than before. Her touch set them walking again, but his mind was still at a running pace. Couldn’t he do something to make up to her his lack of kindness? Something that didn’t involve the pressure that came with a contrived romantic setting? Mentions of her parents at dinner entered his thoughts. She loved nature; he could tell. What did they have outside at Rothbrier that would interest Miss Cox?
After a few quiet, almost comfortable moments, he had the perfect idea. “Shall we feed that adventurous spirit you claim to have and take a different route?”
She paused for a moment. “If another gentleman had asked the same thing, I would bewary...”
“But?”
“But since you generally seem eager to be rid of me, I am not anticipating the least threat.”
He chuckled. “There will be no reason for reproach tonight. I promise we will not stray far from the path or the house. I am sure my parents gave us a decent lead, but we will hurry all the same.”
“What exactly are we planning to do?”
“The gardener told me he thinks an owl has made his home in the big tree by the gardens. I thought we might try to catch a glimpse of it.”
“I have never seen an owl in person.”
“Ah, now we must find it.” He reached over and pulled a torch from the ground, the footman next to it not even blinking an eye. “Let’s go back the way we came and cut around the side of the gardens. That way we will not startle it by walking on the gravel path.”
“You did not seem at all startled when I came up the gravel path the other day. In fact, I recall you sleeping through the whole thing.” She raised a brow. In return, he gave her a studied look of boredom that drew a laugh from her. She glanced up at the sky with a few new stars winking at them and changed the subject back to the matter at hand. “Since owls hunt at night, will it still be in the tree, do you think?”
“It’s not an adventure if you know the ending,” he said.
“I shall remember that.” Her playful look sent his heart racing but not in a way that made him want to run. No, this was very different.
Miss Cox walked beside him, and something about letting his guard down made him feel increasingly at ease in her company.
Miss Cox nudged him. “Are you always adventurous?”
“Me? Only when persuaded by my friends.” He stole another glance at her. “I value hard work, but I never regret a little frivolity. And I do feel I owe you a little fun after the greeting I’ve given you. Prepare to be thoroughly impressed.”
Paul stepped off the path, and he and Louisa made their way across the grass. He hoped her slippers would not get damp but was glad the night air was still plenty warm. He wanted to make up for his poor behavior, not send her to bed with a cold. As they approached the big tree that had offered the garden bench the shade he so enjoyed during the day, Miss Cox snorted.
He took in her profile highlighted by the torchlight. “What is so funny?”
She shook her head, but her shoulders shook.
If she was attempting to be subtle, she was doing a poor job of it. “I can tell you are laughing.”
“Forgive me,” she struggled to say. “I saw the bench and remembered the way your legs flew up in the air, and...” She put the back of her hand to her mouth, but her laughter bubbled out anyway.
It was hard not to be amused by a full-grown woman melting into peals of laughter at his expense. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from joining in. “You’re scaring the owl.”
