And I simply thought it might be easier—”
“I would like that.” Lillian interrupted him. “Very much.”
Her voice sounded like music when she answered. His desire to court her was an impulsive one, one they were both likely to eventually regret. And yet, he felt it was the proper thing to do. The four-day journey to Gretna Green, he decided, was an opportunity to hopefully remove some of the mercenary conditions from their union.
He couldn’t drive her through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, nor could he escort her and her mother to the opera, but there were a few small things he could do. He was simply going to have to be creative.
“Wait here a moment,” He dropped her arm, stepped off the path, and crouched down, searching around and plucking the fullest blooms he could see. When he rose again, he turned around to hand them to her, but froze, momentarily stunned.
She was staring in the opposite direction, the moonlight reflecting golden sparkles in her hair. He didn’t deserve her.
This woman… deserved so much more than what he could offer.
She must have sensed his regard, for she twisted back around, and then gasped in delight when she caught sight of the bouquet.
Which was nothing. Absolutely nothing in light of what she was giving up for him.
Only, she wasn’t doing it for him. She was doing it for her freedom.
Still… the bouquet was nothing.
He held them out.
“They’re beautiful.” Her lashes fluttered rapidly, almost as though she was fighting tears. “Thank you.”
Christian wanted to say something, anything, but words escaped him.
Holding the bouquet in one hand, she reached up with the other and untied something from her hair.
A silk ribbon.
“Will you wrap it around them, while I hold them together?”
Such a simple thing. Stepping closer, he inhaled her scent, which was so much better than the perfume from the flowers. Everything about her was feminine and sweet.
Tingling shot through him when his hands brushed hers as he wound the silk around the stems. It shouldn’t have, but tying the ribbon off required all of his concentration.
His limbs felt warm and heavy as he stood beside her. He straightened the bow, his hands resting against hers, but had no wish to step away from her.
“Thank you.” Was her voice trembling? “You don’t have to, you know.”
“I don’t have to what?”
“Make this real.”
A mistake. He was making a mistake. But what was the mistake, making this real or pretending it wasn’t? Damn the curse. Damn his family. Damn Uncle Liverman.
He relaxed his fingers from the silk and lifted his chin to meet her eyes. He wanted to kiss her.
“I like you already.” She surprised him and then shrugged, almost apologetically. “I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if I didn’t.”
She liked him. He wouldn’t ruin it by rushing his fences.
“There is a stream a little further.” He stepped back and offered his arm. Hell and damnation, she liked him.
And unfortunately, he liked her as well.
She liked him.
What the hell was he doing?
“We have a good deal to learn about one another.” She commented from beside him.
She’d revealed a good deal about her family throughout their drive. They hadn’t discussed anything personal though—not with her maid listening in.
Trouble was that she was right. And he had no idea how much time they would have to embark upon changing that.
“I know that you are quite independent,” he said. “You are fearless and compassionate. You like your tea without sugar, but with a hearty splash of cream. You are considerate of your maid’s comfort and make polite conversation when you are nervous.”
He caught her smiling when he shot her an inquisitive glance.
“I know that you are protective and loyal.” She proceeded to match each of his observations with one of her own. “Intelligent. And compassionate as well. You like your tea black. You command respect from your servants without even trying, and you tap the heel of your right foot when you are nervous.
He laughed. “Sometimes I tap my left. You just haven’t known me long enough yet.”
They’d arrived at an arched bridge and both paused at the center to watch the water rushing below.
“Your maid does not know the true circumstances of our arrangement?”
“She does not. Do your servants know?”
“Only my man of business.” And he wouldn’t say anything to Corny, or Oxley or even Bernadette. “We will keep it between the two of us?”
She didn’t answer right away and when he looked over, she was wincing. “I told Olivia. Right after… I discussed