Esme's gaze flicked toward her mother, then toward Woodmere, who narrowed his eyes.
James's muscles coiled.Esme would be trapped.Do something,every instinct urged.
He did not.This was her choice.He had vowed to give her that much.
Esme lifted her chin."Very well, Lord Watford," she said."I should be glad of some air."
Woodmere stepped forward.Pippa appeared, capturing his sleeve.
"Lord Woodmere," she said brightly, "please tell me you have not cheated at battledore since Foxmere."
He blinked."I do not cheat," he said, affronted."I strategize."
Pippa gasped in mock horror."So you admit it!Come, you must defend yourself to His Grace.Christopher, darling?—"
She towed Woodmere away.James made a mental note to send her a very expensive gift.
Esme, seizing the gap, placed her hand lightly on Watford's arm.
"Shall we?"
They disappeared into the conservatory.
Heart pounding, hands at his sides, James stood where he was.
He did not follow.
The conservatory at Haverleigh had been designed to impress.Glass arched overhead.Potted orange trees perfumed the air, and ferns clustered in shadows.Lanterns glowed along the paths, casting pools of light.
Esme found the air easier to breathe the moment she crossed the threshold.
Watford stopped a few paces inside and turned to face her.
"Lady Esme," he began, then faltered."Forgive me.I am not practiced at this."
"Neither am I," she said gently."We may bumble through together."
He offered a strained smile."You are very kind.That is...precisely the difficulty."
She folded her fan."I see."
He took a breath, squared his shoulders."Your family and mine have encouraged our acquaintance.Your conduct has always been beyond reproach, excepting certain aquatic incidents, which were hardly your fault."
Her lips twitched."The Serpentine bears a portion of the blame."
"Quite," he said.
Silencestretched.
"Lord Watford," she said quietly, "are you wishing to offer for me?"
He went scarlet."I had considered—that is, your brother—no, I am not expressing myself well at all."
"Then allow me," she said."Do you want to?"
He blinked."Want to?"
"Yes," she said."Not 'ought,' not 'makes sense on paper.'Do you, Cedric Hargrove,wantto marry me?"
