How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,16

him.

“No, here? With me?” he clarified, no longer worried he would offend her for that seemed impossible to do. “I do believe I’ve made it clear that I do not wish to converse.”

Miss Palmer chuckled, her eyes turning back to look upon him. “That you have.”

“Then why are you still here?” he asked, trying not to look at her. Those deep brown eyes were oddly unsettling. Indeed, the whole woman was odd and unsettling.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she grinned at him. “Because you need me.”

His gaze snapped over to meet hers. “I beg your pardon?”

Smiling at him, she exhaled, then shook her head at him. “Quite frankly, you look in desperate need of a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend for you.”

Of all the possible things she could have said in response to his question, this one had been nowhere among them. “You…want to be my…friend?” he asked carefully, wondering if his hearing could be impaired.

“Precisely.”

“Why?”

For a long moment, those dark brown eyes looked into his and a part of Nathanial felt as though she were looking inside of him to his core. It felt like a touch, as though she had reached out and placed her hand upon his arm.

But she hadn’t.

Miss Palmer simply stood there, an arm’s length away, her hands resting on the balustrade at her back. “Why not?” was all she said, a soft smile playing across her features.

Nathanial straightened and took a step back. “I don’t need a friend.”

“Everyone needs a friend,” she objected before she pushed off the balustrade, closing the distance he was wielding like a weapon to hold her at bay. “Pierce told me—”

“Pierce?”

“Lord Markham,” she elaborated. “I believe he is a good friend of your brother’s.” She indicated a dark-haired man who stood across the terrace, trying his utmost not to stare at Becca’s cousin, Miss Hawkins, as she walked the lawns with her parents. “He told me what happened in Boston and—”

Nathanial gritted his teeth. “Apparently, the gossips work as efficiently here as they do in America.”

The expression on her face softened. “Do you intend to misunderstand me?” Her brows rose in challenge. “Is this your way of trying to frighten me away, Nathanial? Well, if it is, I might as well inform you here and now that it won’t work and save us both some time yet again.” As Nathanial made to step away, Miss Palmer moved to prevent it, her gaze seeking his. “You might not be in a place right now where you can admit that you need someone. I can understand that. I’ve been where you are.” She swallowed. “More than once.” Her chin rose. “But I came here to assure you that everything will be all right. I promise. Whether you believe it or not, whether you want it or not, you have a friend in me. You’re not alone. I simply wanted you to know that.” A warm smile played over her lips before she turned and walked away to the other side of the terrace where she addressed the dark-haired man, Lord Markham, who still stood staring down into the gardens.

Exhaling, Nathanial all but slumped back against the balustrade, his legs suddenly feeling rather unsteady. Never in his life had he met anyone like Miss Palmer.

So outspoken.

So honest.

So insistent.

Did she truly mean what she had said?

Watching her from afar, Nathanial wondered what she could be saying to Lord Markham for it seemed that he, too, was receiving an earful of advice. The dark-haired man, on the other hand, appeared grateful. The expression upon his face whispering of a man who was in the company of a confidante.

Someone he trusted.

Did she truly mean to be his friend?

Aside from Abigail, Nathanial had never been friends with a woman. Early on, he had been certain that Abigail was the one for him and so he had never mingled, never chatted with ladies in order to gauge their interest as well as his own. Only after Abigail had broken their engagement had Nathanial found that women had begun to eye him differently. They had batted their eyes at him, casting coy smiles and seductive glances.

Nathanial had been aware that, given his financial situation, he was considered somewhat of a catch to Boston’s ladies since Abigail had broken with him. The thought had always upset him for it had only ever spoken of superficial intentions, none that spoke to him in particular but rather to his purse. No one outside his family