"True," he conceded."I did, after all, volunteer to be hit with shuttlecocks in order to see you laugh."
"It was not necessary," she turned her attention back to him."I can laugh perfectly well without your assistance."
"I have no doubt."He hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering his voice."Esme?—"
"Lady Esme," she corrected, more sharply than she intended.
He stilled.
She saw the flicker in his eyes.Confusion, then caution.He straightened slightly, the easy warmth receding.
"Lady Esme," he amended."Have I offended you?"
"No more than usual," she said.
"Which is to say...somewhat?"he guessed.
She remained silent.
He studied her for a long moment."If this is about the battledore, I offer my apologies.I did not mean to...overstep."
"On the contrary," she said."You are remarkably consistent.You never overstep.Not where it matters."
His brows drew together."I confess I have absolutely no idea what that means."
"Then we are at an impasse."She notched her chin, determined to maintain her composure."For a man who prides himself on rescuing people from boredom," she said, forcing a smile, "you have a curious talent for turning things...ordinary."
"Ordinary," he repeated, a question in his tone."That is an interesting charge."
She set her lemonade on the table and folded her hands."We have enjoyed our society, Lord Redford.It has been diverting.But it is time I remembered my duties."
His jaw clenched.“Woodmere has been speaking to you."
"This has nothing to do with my brother," she lied.
He laughed, humorlessly."Of course it does.Everything does, in your world.Your mother, your brother, their expectations, the ton's opinions.You are a ledger with too many hands on the pen."
"And you," she snapped, "are a man who refuses to pick up a pen at all.One can hardly write a future with someone who does not believe in ink."
The words came out more raw than she liked.She saw them land, saw something flicker behind his eyes.
"Ah," he said softly."You have been talking to Woodmere.And he has told you I mean to remain a useless creature until the end of my days."
"If the accusation suits," she said.
He flinched.
"Very well," he said, his voice cool and precise."You are correct.I do not intend to marry.I have said as much, and I will say it again.I am not a safe bet for anyone's happiness, least of all yours."
The honesty should have relieved her.
Instead, it stung.
"Then we understand one another," she said.
"I suppose we must," he replied."No wagers on your life.No mischief that touches your future.Only guarded conversations at respectable distances."
"That would be best," she agreed.
