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“With my dress ruined and my hair in disarray?” I scoffed. “I am not immune to flattery sir, but I can only tolerate falsehoods when they are at least believable.”
He grew serious, tugging softly at my curl to pull me closer. “You can certainly believe me, Felicity. I will never lie to you. Not about this or anything else.”
The sincerity in his tone caused a tremor to run through my body—or perhaps that was from the cold. But regardless of its origin, I found myself leaning forward still, seated in the water, my gown floating to the top of the shallow pool. James dropped my curl and slid his damp hand around the back of my neck.
“Have I told you yet how dearly I missed you while I was away?” he murmured.
He had, multiple times. “You mean Benedict was unable to provide you with enough entertainment to keep you occupied during your journey?”
“I find his taste for entertainment and mine do not exactly meld as easily as they once did.”
I rested my hand on the wet lapel of his coat and leaned forward still, when the sound of neighing and crunching on gravel alerted me to someone’s presence. I leaned back, hoping to see through the trees to who might be arriving at the stable house.
A carriage pulled before it, the yellow lacquered sides bright against the pale stone of the building behind it. “James, who is that?”
He turned his head, lifting it slightly to see. “Blast. It looks like you have callers.”
“Why me?”
“Because the Dodwells certainly would not be here for me. And you are the bride. It is a natural conclusion.”
“Oh.” I wrinkled my nose. “I cannot meet them like this.”
James leaned his forehead against mine. “No, I dare say you cannot.” He dropped a kiss onto the edge of my nose before shifting to the edge of the shallow pool and climbing out. Once he was securely on the dry ground, he removed his sopping coat, loosened his limp cravat, and reached a hand toward me. “Allow me to help this time, eh?”
“Of course,” I said, mocking affront. “I wouldn’t dream otherwise.” I could not help but watch the muscles in his arms beneath the sheer, wet sleeve, bunch and move as he pulled me effortlessly from the water. Arms were not shaped like that without some effort.
“Do you partake in fisticuffs, James?”
“Not often,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
He looked at me askance. “Come, let us get you inside.”
My heavy skirts pooled water around my ankles, and I bent to retrieve my gloves. I removed my shoes so I could walk easier.
The sound of feminine conversation reached us, and James took my hand, pulling me behind the hedge. Rose bushes fenced us in, the flowers’ sweet smell wafting pleasantly over us.
“Why are we hiding?”
His face was only inches above mine. “Unless you would like to be seen as you are, I propose we wait until they are shown into the drawing room before we sneak upstairs.”
“Fantastic idea, James. I would rather not attend to them at all, let alone be forced to explain why I look like a drowned—”
“Like a beautiful woman?” He plucked a white rose from the nearby bush and pinched off the thorn on its short stem. James tucked it behind my ear, and his fingers brushed against the shell of my ear, running a shiver down my neck.
He looked down at me, his voice softening. “If you would rather not meet with the Dodwells, then you needn’t go.”
“I cannot ignore them simply because I do not wish to sit and talk today.” There never would be a day when I did wish to sit and talk to strangers.
“You cannot do that every time a caller arrives, but you can today. You are sopping wet, Felicity. By the time you are changed and your hair is fixed”—he lifted a wet strand from my shoulder for emphasis, by now there was more hair out of my knot than secured in it—“the Dodwells will surely be on their way again.”
His reasoning was sound, but still. “I would not wish for them to perceive my absence as a slight.”
“I am positive my mother is, at this very moment, assuring them you are busy with some necessary activity.”
“Do you think?” I asked, hopeful.
