he didn’t intend to prove himself, did he?
His hands circled her waist before she tumbled from the carriage and lowered her to the ground. But even after her half boots were securely on the grass, he held on.
Oh, my molasses! She had never been kissed and she didn’t know what to do. Her eyes drifted shut, but she wasn’t sure what to do with her mouth. She licked her lips then puckered up, waiting.
A woodpecker’s rapid hammering sounded from a nearby tree. A breeze ruffled the sleeves of her gown. His fingers tightened on her waist and urged her closer.
“Blast it all.” He released her.
She blinked into the empty space where he had just been. She spotted him rounding the horses and stared as he approached an ancient, gnarled oak. Its branches twisted like arthritic fingers with unsightly knots like swollen knuckles. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blew out a noisy breath but said nothing.
“That is a good climbing tree,” she said in place of witty repartee, anything to fill the strained silence.
He looked up at the branches. “Do you climb trees?”
She trailed after him. Admitting to yet another unladylike habit would prove how unsuited she was to be his duchess, but it wasn’t her odd endeavors that seemed to bother him.
“I have been known on occasion to climb a tree, but only if I’m wearing trousers.”
His eyes lit when he looked at her. “You’re nothing like I anticipated.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I think.” She lowered to the grass, tucked her knees up under her skirts, and rested her forearms across her knees.
“You may refer to me as Luke if you wish, Foxhaven if my Christian name feels too familiar and offends your sensibilities. But our association warrants discarding such formalities as Your Grace.”
She looked up at him with a cautious slant of her head. “And what is the nature of our association?”
He crouched down in front of her as if indulging a child. “We are becoming fast friends, I believe.”
“You want something from me I can’t give you. I expect our friendship will be short-lived. Perhaps we shouldn’t abandon our manners too hastily.”
Plucking a blade of grass, he twirled it between his fingers. His lips thinned briefly, but then he bestowed another generous smile. His smile dazzled and did something unsettling to her insides, but she was beginning to distrust it. He used his smile as a cloak, she suspected, to hide what stirred behind his serious eyes.
“Tell me how you envision your future,” he said. “Not the one you are willing to settle for in order to avoid the convent, but the one you truly desire.”
She could easily desire what knelt in front of her. Foxhaven seemed kind and tolerant. She could grow to love him, to be a good wife, to honor him. But she couldn’t admit this to him.
“I’m no different from most ladies. I wish to make a good match. If my husband is smart with his money, not too strict, and possesses all his teeth, I will be happy.”
Foxhaven tossed his head back with a hearty, openmouthed laugh, proving he met her last requirement nicely. “Is that all? I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t want more.”
“I am hardly in a position to ask for more. You must know a woman has little say in such matters.”
He sobered and nodded thoughtfully. “What about children? You mentioned providing an heir, but don’t you wish for a family life?”
She studied the blade of grass he wound around his finger. The tip turned scarlet then bordered on plum before he released it. Did he feel like his finger, bound tightly and dying off inch by inch? She knew the pressures his station in life carried with it. Her brother often suffered under the weight of his responsibilities, and then there was Muriel. His wife’s periodic bouts of illness were a leash ’round her brother’s neck. What if Vivi’s dreams of family were a burden to Foxhaven like Muriel’s illness was to Ash?
“You don’t desire a family life, do you?” she said. “You might have a need for an heir, but you do not want a family.”
He rocked back on his heels. “I haven’t given the possibility much consideration, truthfully.”
Vivi bit her bottom lip. She could release him. The act would cost her a great deal, but being the cause of another’s suffering seemed worse than enduring misery she had brought on herself.
She swallowed hard and wished she were braver.
“I have a proposition, Lady Vivian.