Page 24 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

He had to admit he’d been relieved when Mrs. Grayling suggested apple-picking for his first job of the day. He had volunteered his services readily enough, but, honestly, he wasn’t sure how much help he would be. He’d done very little real work in his life, and he was a little nervous he would embarrass himself.

Picking apples should be easy, though. Surely anyone could pick apples. Even a mostly useless sod like him.

In silence, Lily led the way up the dirt path and into the rear garden toward the small orchard of precisely thirteen apple trees.

She was a little surprised that Mr. Darrington—Frederick—had come today. Yes, this arrangement had been his idea, and he had seemed sincere yesterday when he said he would see her this morning, but she’d learned long ago that promises were not always kept and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, she was grateful he was here, if a tad disappointed to find him just as handsome today as he’d been yesterday. She only hoped she did not embarrass herself.

“The ground here is rather uneven,” Lily said as she drew up to the nearest tree, its branches loaded with ripe, red apples. “We’ll have to take turns picking while the other holds the ladder steady.”

“Right,” Frederick said, propping the ladder against the trunk of the tree. “Shall I do the picking first?”

Lily shrugged. “As you wish.”

He looked at her, a smile curving his lips as if he were happy to be here, and Lily could do nothing but stare, transfixed by his bright azure eyes and thick black hair, glinting like onyx beneath the late morning sun.

She tore her gaze away and cleared her throat, her skin flushing with a prickly sort of heated tingles that surely meant nothing good. “Basket,” she said abruptly and rather too loudly. “We’ll need a basket, won’t we?”

She bustled away and returned a moment later with a large woven basket she kept stored in the barn.

Avoiding Frederick’s gaze, she situated the basket beside the ladder, ensuring it was as balanced as it could be on the uneven patch of grassy ground.

“There,” she said, rising again. “It’s all ready for you.”

She looked at him expectantly, and he took his cue, climbing up the ladder until the lowest branches were within his reach.

Lily did her best not to ogle him as he made his way up, but she was only human, after all, and he possessed a magnificent backside. His fawn-colored trousers fit him to perfection, worn-in but well-made, and well-suited to a day of labor, as were his blue cotton shirt and dove gray shortcoat.

Surprisingly, he seemed just as comfortable in these simpler garments as he did in his elegant Town attire. He looked just as handsome, too, if not more so, and for one illogical moment she imagined what it would be like to spend a different sort of day with him beneath the shade of an apple tree. A lazy day spent stretched out on a soft woolen blanket, trading teasing caresses and apple-flavored kisses.

The soft thud of an apple landing in the basket broke her from her improper reverie, and she swallowed hard.

Another apple landed in the basket, followed by a third, and then a fourth, and with each muted thud, the fantasy retreated, batted back by reality.

“Have you always lived here at the inn?” Frederick asked, and the sudden question startled her, making her jump.

She didn’t usually like to talk about herself, but if it kept her thoughts from straying to soft blankets and warm kisses, she would happily answer his questions. Within reason, of course.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head, though of course he couldn’t see the gesture. “I lived in London before coming to live here about two years ago.”

“And what made you decide to leave London?”

Well, she certainly had no intention of answering that question, at least not honestly. Frederick Darrington was a nice enough man, and it was lovely of him to do this favor for her, but that did not mean she owed him her secrets.

“I...was ready for a change,” she finally said, and the hesitation made her grimace. She’d meant for the words to sound more believable than that, though thankfully he did not ask her to elaborate.

“How long has your family owned the inn?” he asked instead, before plucking another apple and adding it to the growing pile.

“My great-great-grandfather won it with a single hand of cards, and it’s been run by us Graylings ever since.”

“But it’s only you and your grandmother here,” he replied, the inference clear. Where is the rest of your family?

“My father died several years ago,” she said. “And my mother resides in London. She...is not suited for this life.”

The excess and frivolity of London living had never really suited Lily, but her mother reveled in it, as did her sister, Rose.

“What about siblings?” Frederick asked, as if reading her mind. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”