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Chapter 20
What was it about this man? She found herself a mere foot from him, looking out over the yonder forest as the air shifted through the limbs and made bright green leaves shimmer. She explained to him that in Austria when leaves flipped over to reveal their underbellies, it often meant that rain was imminent. He chuckled at that and said, “In nearly every case, you can reason that rain is about to begin in England.”
He was entirely easy to talk to, the sort of man she could have walked alongside, in both silence and not, for ages. Although she understood why many men and women in England might have perceived Baldwin to be quite simple and boring, she felt his humour simmered beneath everything—it was just something one had to catch on to. She was grateful that she was patient enough to manage it.
“It was dreadful at breakfast today,” Marta said. She collected a few curls behind her ear. “All that pestering about the Duke. I can’t imagine what will happen should she find out what truly happened. But I hope only that the Duke is far too proud to announce what you did.”
Baldwin laughed good-naturedly, although his eyes seemed heavy with pain. “That’s what Ewan said, as well.”
“But Aunt Margaret won’t stop before she pairs me with someone … either the Duke or someone like him,” Marta continued. She stuttered a bit, wondering at the weight of what she said. Every inch of her seemed to scream out for Baldwin to do something. There they stood, without a view of anyone else on the planet, and he kept his hands in his pockets.
This was no Austrian man. If he’d been Austrian, she would have been pressed up against a tree already, kissed with reckless abandon.
Still, she felt honoured by his conscientious approach. He was far more upright than Lewis Remington, surely, and—surprising to no one more than herself—captured her interest far more than any other man she’d recently fancied.
That said, she knew that if she wanted anything to happen between them, she would have to be the one to make a move. She swallowed and held her breath for a few moments, trying to drum up the energy and bravery. When she’d been a girl, her father had told her relentlessly that she was the bravest girl he’d ever met. Always, she’d shot up to the top of the mountain before him or climbed the tallest tree or outraced the boys, provided her mother wasn’t looking. Now, she had to channel that energy for the betterment of her love life.
She’d always known that when it was worthwhile, she would make whatever leap required of her.
Marta guided Baldwin back towards the furthest garden from the house. She felt his footsteps shift beneath him and wondered if he fully perceived her control. He again stabbed his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. But their conversation had to come to a close, now. There were other topics. Other things to be done.
They swept towards the edge of the garden wall. Once there, they were covered on most sides by thick ivy and shadow. Even the sun lurked just beyond the garden wall, as though it had tucked its head to the side for the purpose of their romance. Marta’s bright eyes found his. Again, she felt stabbed with the realisation that this gaze was one she wanted to maintain for many more years of her life.
“Tell me, Baldwin,” she said. Her voice was low, flirtatious. Sensual, even.
She’d always known how to turn that side of herself on.
“Tell you what?” Baldwin asked.
“Tell me if you’re ever going to kiss me,” Marta murmured.
Baldwin looked surprised. His lips parted, and his eyes reflected confusion. It seemed clear to Marta that no woman, certainly no English woman, had ever demanded something like this from him. She hadn’t a clue what his reaction would be. Her heart thumped about for a moment, proof that she wasn’t as brave as she would have liked.
