her cheeks and the sounds of insects and birdsong filling the air. Mr. Kingsley’s arm tightened around her shoulders, and Victoria realized she’d forgotten it was there.
“I do care for you,” said Mr. Kingsley.
“As I care for you,” came her quick reply. “But not as a husband and wife ought to.”
Mr. Kingsley gave a huff. “It would make things simpler if we married.”
Victoria glared at the fool. “So help me, Mr. Oliver Kingsley, if you say such a thing again, I will accept your proposal, force you into a marriage of convenience, and do my utmost to torment you for the rest of your life.”
He winced. “I’m simply saying it is the easier course of action.”
“But not happier.” Resting a hand on his knee, Victoria held his gaze, not allowing Mr. Kingsley to turn away from the depth of her feelings and the truth of her words. “You must promise to at least attempt to follow your heart. Courting Sophia Banfield may not be easy, but do not allow this happy possibility to pass you by without giving it a chance to flourish. You two may not suit in the end, but do not cry retreat until you are certain.”
“May I point out yet again that this is an extremely odd conversation to have with your beau?”
Victoria gave his knee a light smack and narrowed her eyes once more. “Promise me.”
Mr. Kingsley’s smile warmed. “I give you my word to pursue it to its conclusion—whatever that may be.”
Giving him a nod, Victoria relaxed once more as they lapsed into another silence. Pushing aside thoughts of the impending tempest, she reveled in the quiet before the storm. Reality lay outside the garden walls, and she was not ready to face it. Not yet. Hiding was not a long-term solution, but a moment of solace was exactly what she needed.
The tightly shaped shrubbery made hardly a sound, though the persistent breeze rustled a leaf or two as a songbird trilled a joyful tune. The sun hung high in the sky, but the wings of Hardington Hall provided enough shade to keep them from becoming overheated. Victoria would always prefer the energy of the city, yet this perfect pastoral scene made her understand the appeal of country life. And Mr. Kingsley belonged here as surely as Victoria belonged in London.
“Are you ready to face the hordes again?” he asked.
Victoria groaned, covering her face as the scope of their situation struck her, chasing away her temporary haven.
“Perhaps we should just marry,” she mumbled.
Mr. Kingsley’s brows rose at that, and Victoria gave him a commiserating smile—though the fellow clearly did not understand why he deserved it.
“No doubt they believe we are now engaged and are awaiting our return to celebrate the news,” she said.
He grimaced and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
Victoria swatted away his hands and smoothed the riotous locks. “You are not helping by making yourself look rumpled. There will be all sorts of rumors about what we were up to.”
“You are right yet again, Miss Caswell,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I suppose there is nothing to be done about it, and we must face them at some point.”
Getting to her feet, Victoria smoothed her skirts, and Mr. Kingsley picked off a stray leaf and blade of grass that grasped the fabric, though it would do little good, as the eager eyes awaiting their return would notice every detail and extrapolate scandalous conclusions.
Victoria took Mr. Kingsley’s arm, and they meandered back to the group while she focused on calming her heartbeat and breath. It would not do to look joyous or depressed, so she schooled her features into that pleasantly bland mask everyone affected in society. To all outward appearances, the couple looked as though they had simply enjoyed the afternoon air and toured the garden together. A wholly unremarkable interlude.
“If the others ask—” began Mr. Kingsley.
“They will.”
“When the others ask,” he corrected, “do not feel the need to protect my reputation. As this is my doing, I ought to bear the brunt of it.”
Pulling the gentleman to a stop, Victoria crossed her arms and faced him. “And why would I do that? If you recall, I was the one who rejected you before you could get through your ridiculous proposal. And proceeded to talk you out of forcing the issue when you were too pig-headed for your good.”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Mr. Kingsley pinched his lips together as he turned his face to the sky, shaking his head.