The First Proposal - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,20

dinner only because she often hummed a soft tune during her stroll. Meanwhile, he was lurking like some sort of calf-eyed young fool, hoping for a glimpse of her from afar.

When he heard her at last, he took one of the pebbles he’d gathered and tossed it over the wall.

“Ow!”

“Miss Blake? Are you all right?” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

“I was. Now I’ve been dealt a fatal blow by a falling pebble! What are you doing over there?”

“I was hoping I might have a word with you. Perhaps you’d be inclined to meet me at the garden gate?” he asked.

“It’s highly improper.”

Algernon laughed. “Our entire acquaintance has been improper, Miss Blake.”

“Well, that is certainly true enough,” she agreed.

“Then come… we will only be as improper as you wish,” he offered tantalizingly.

There was only silence and stillness for the longest time. So much so that he thought she might have fled back into her sister’s den of misery. Then, soft as a whisper, he heard her sigh.

“It’s a very bad idea, but also a tempting one… only as improper as I wish?”

Algernon grinned. “I promise… the gate is unlocked. You have only to enter.”

“Because that doesn’t sound wicked at all,” she said, her tone filled with sarcasm. But her voice was growing distant as she moved toward the gate at the back of the wall which separated their gardens.

As tall as the fence itself, he’d always kept the gate locked as the Fennelworth children couldn’t be trusted, at all. But he’d left it open for her, just in case he could tempt her. When it opened, he felt a deep relief coupled with an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Every moment with her was something to look forward to, he thought. He’d accused Aurora of being a romantic, and yet it was quickly becoming apparent that he was equally afflicted.

The gate rattled a bit, as if she were hesitating. Then it opened wider and she stepped inside. Once more in another drab gown, she was still impossibly lovely to him. Her pale, blonde locks were swept up into a simple chignon and a heavy shawl was draped about her shoulders. Then, as she crossed the threshold from their garden into his, she stopped abruptly and surveyed the scene before her.

Behind a large bush, concealed from the view of his household and concealed from her own by the gate and stone fence, a blanket had been laid out, dotted with large cushions. The small picnic hamper had been set to the side, along with a lantern as it was already beginning to grow dark. There were also several lap robes swiped from his carriage.

“You were certainly very sure of yourself.”

“Hopeful,” he replied. “I was counting on your desire to escape your nieces and nephews.”

A rueful smile curved her lips. “That can always be counted upon. However, I have not been subjected to their company as much of late. I imagine that has something to do with you?”

He might have had a private word with Daphne Fennelworth about how it looked to people in society to burden her relations with the care of her children when it was clear from her standard of living she could afford a governess for them. In short, he’d let Mrs. Fennelworth’s obsession with her place in society goad her into doing what she should have all along. “I can only proclaim my innocence. It is for you to believe or disbelieve as you like,” Algernon replied.

“I disbelieve,” she said flatly, making her way to their secluded picnic. She settled on one of the cushions and reached for a blanket, draping it over lap for warmth. “Daphne does nothing to benefit me if she does not have reason. What reason did you provide?”

Algernon moved away from the garden wall and stepped into the small bower of seclusion that had been created for them. Easing himself down onto the ground, he grinned at her. “I may have simply pointed out that if society matrons learned she was depending upon her sibling to provide care and tutelage for her children rather than hiring reputable governess they might suspect the family was less flush that initially believed. And gossip can be terribly unforgiving, can’t it?”

She laughed then. Her head falling back as the sound escaped her. It wasn’t the polite laughter of a lady who was only concerned about propriety and social position. It was the laughter of a woman who loved life and who simply gave herself up to