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Chapter Seventeen
“She’s arriving, sir,” Pulley announced calmly, trying to stand up straight as he caught his breath.
“My thanks,” said James, passing at a brisk clip.
He reached the mews just as Clara dismounted from her carriage. He waited for her smile—the one that felt like the warmest day of summer, the sun bestowing its approval on the gardens.
Her beautiful lips curved, and James knew relief as well as joy; her desire still burned strongly. Inevitably, her interest in him would wane or be overtaken by their differences—but not today.
Her smile muted by the time he reached her. She looked up from his overcoat impassively. “I’ve arrived just as you’re leaving.”
“Nay, lass. Well, yes. But withyou.”
Clara looked confused, and he lamented his own rough edges.
What would a dandy say to you now?
He cleared his throat. “I’ve a surprise for you. Will you join me?” He extended his hand as gallantly as he could.
She ignored it and shook her head. “Go someplacetogether? No, we mustn’t!”
James searched her face for signs of distaste. Her expression told him precious little, but her voice sounded worried. “It’s safe. We won’t be seen.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s a surprise,” he tried again, even though his plan to invoke whimsy and adventure was failing miserably so far.
She raised her chin. “I don’t care for surprises.”
“Nay? I surprised you the first day we met.”
A hint of a smile softened her lips. “That’s different.”
“This, too, is a good surprise, lass. Come, I’ve made the arrangements, and I promise, there’s naught to fear. I remember our vow of secrecy.”
She pulled her cloak more tightly around her.
James stepped closer, hands raised. “Very well. I can see that it won’t do to ask you to join me without knowing where.” He took in a deep breath. “Lady Clara, would you accompany me on a secret visit to an orangery? It’s in the garden at Eccleston Square.”
Clara looked intrigued, yet still hesitant.
“I—I remember that you enjoy oranges. You had one at your picnic the day we met.”
Her mouth parted, but she didn’t speak.
“And you seem to enjoy blossoms and birds and the like. The wallpaper in your parlor.”
She tilted her head, looking at him for so long that he wondered if his assumptions about her preferences were wrong, or if his observations were unwelcome.
He felt increasingly foolish as he waited, but his feet were rooted to the ground and his mouth stayed closed as if glued.
Clara stepped closer to him and slipped her arm into his. “Yes, I’d be delighted,” she whispered.
James straightened his spine even as relief crumpled his insides.
At his signal, his carriage pulled out of the mews house. It stopped after turning in the opposite direction of Clara’s conveyance.
He slipped off her glove and held her hand during the ride to Eccleston Square, only a few minutes away.
