Page 51 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Fifteen

Frederick was in an agony of suspense. It had only been twenty-six hours since he’d asked for Lily’s hand, but every minute seemed like an eternity, and all the waiting had tied his stomach up in knots.

He couldn’t seem to sit still longer than a few seconds before he was up again, pacing the floor, wearing thin every rug in his sister’s house.

Finally, when he could not stand being indoors a single moment longer, he ventured out into the crisp morning air, wonderfully fresh and cool and ripe with the scents of wood smoke and autumn leaves.

He walked with purpose, though he had none, except to show mercy on Penelope’s rugs, and try to escape his obsessive thoughts.

Still, even as he marched briskly up the lane, arms slicing, boots crunching, with the scenic Hampshire countryside all around, his mind was on Lily and the question he’d asked her.

What would her answer be? Would she accept his proposal, or would she turn him down?

He’d had very little time to plead his case, much less than a moment like that deserved, but he’d done his best with what he’d been given. He only hoped his best was good enough, if not to have won her hand, then at least to have earned himself a second chance at winning it.

There was so much more he wanted to tell her, so much still left to say, and he prayed she would give him the chance to say it.

He drew in a deep breath and intentionally slowed his pace. He’d hoped a walk would clear his mind, but he could see now that it had been a fool’s errand. There would be no outrunning his thoughts, or his worry.

What if Lily wouldn’t have him? What if she turned him away?

Her heart had been injured once before, and he was asking her to risk it again, to put her faith in him, and trust that he would not fail her. What if she decided he wasn’t worth the risk?

No. He couldn’t think that way. He loved her, damn it, and he wanted to share his life with her. He had no desire to return to London. There was nothing for him there, nothing but frivolous parties and meaningless affairs, neither of which held a thread of interest for him now.

He wanted to stay here in Little Bilberry and run The Weeping Whiskers with Lily at his side, as his wife, his partner.

And all he could do now was wait and hope she would tell him she wanted that, too.

Tipping his head back, Frederick closed his eyes and drew in another deep breath as he let the sun warm his face. He focused on the solid earth beneath his boots, the swell of his chest as oxygen filled his lungs, the sonorous lowing of a cow in the distance.

His eyes popped open, and he stopped in his tracks to sweep his gaze across the expanse of open field beside him.

There, a short distance off, was Blythe, happily munching away on the wild grass.

Frederick chuckled to himself. It seemed the sweet girl had escaped her stall again. Making his way into the field, he tromped through the grass toward the grazing cow and had nearly reached her when a voice called out Blythe’s name.

Lily’s voice.

Heart thudding, he turned toward the road and spotted her just as she came into view, her gray skirts snapping with each brisk stride.

She noticed Blythe first and headed into the field after her. Frederick parted his lips to call out to her, but then, as if sensing his presence, her steps faltered, and her gaze shot to his.

Frederick raised a hand in greeting, and Lily, her expression unreadable, returned the gesture before continuing on toward Blythe. Frederick followed suit, and the two came together beside the still-grazing cow.

“Blythe, you naughty girl,” Lily murmured, giving the fugitive a scratch behind one ear. “You know very well you’re not supposed to be in Mr. Richardson’s field.”

Frederick’s gaze was fixed on Lily’s face, combing for clues, but her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts, or her intentions.

“Come,” she said to Blythe. “Let’s get you home.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Frederick said hopefully. “If you and Blythe have no objections, of course.”

Finally her eyes met his, her small smile uncertain but not unwelcoming. “I can’t speak for Blythe,” she said, “but I have no objections.”

Relief swept over him as they set off slowly toward the lane, Lily at his side, leading a cooperative Blythe by the rope around her neck.

The impulse to ask if she had made her decision was almost ungovernable, but he held it back. He would not pressure her. He’d asked her to consider his proposal, and he would allow her to do just that, in her own time, no matter how desperately he wanted her answer now.