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Chapter Four
Six Weeks Later
Mason stretched out across the corner of the picnic blanket and watched the afternoon sunlight play across Nora’s face. Sweet Lucifer, she was beautiful. Elegant. Soft. In the weeks since the party, they’d come to know each other well, and what he’d suspected the night they met had proven true. Her beauty extended all the way down to her heart.
“You’re staring again,” she chastised, although a pleased smile tugged at her lips.
“Can’t help it.” He reached for one of the grapes on the fruit platter and popped it into his mouth, yet his eyes never strayed from her. “The view is beautiful.”
She froze at the unexpected compliment, except for the smooth stretch of her throat that undulated as she swallowed nervously. God help him, he wanted nothing more at that moment than to place his lips right there and feel the life pulsing inside her—
No, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms, carry her to the nearest bed, and make love to her. And how would she react if he admitted that?
He had to settle instead for sitting up and reaching to untie her bonnet at her chin. Then, with far too much familiarity, he removed it and tossed it onto the blanket. He stole a caress of her smooth cheek in the process and was rewarded with a quick inhalation of her soft breath.
“As I said.” He resumed his original position, stretched out across the blanket like some lord of the manor. “Absolutely beautiful.”
Around them, the Hampstead countryside stretched out with picturesque views in every direction, but he saw none of it. He didn’t even bother looking. They were finally on the country picnic he’d wanted to have since the first day he’d called on them at Whitwell House, and all his attention was right here, with Nora sitting on the blanket with him and Emmeline playing with Brutus in the field at the bottom of the hill. And he was happy.
As the weeks passed since the night of the party, he’d called on them every day and led them out to the barouche for their carriage ride, until finally Emmeline felt comfortable enough for the horses to actually start moving and setting the carriage into motion. The first day they rode only to the end of the courtyard, not even out onto the street. The next day, they went a bit farther, and then farther still after that, until they were able to drive slowly around the park with the top down, until they were able to take longer forays into London. Finally came the day when it rained and, instead of the open barouche, he’d ordered his closed town coach to be brought around. They’d started over again…just to the end of the courtyard, then around the park…until they were able to drive here into the countryside.
Emmeline had been talking more, too—but only to Brutus. She would cup her hand around his furry ear and whisper to him precious secrets she didn’t yet feel safe enough to share aloud to anyone else. But Brutus knew his role, pricking up his ears and cocking his head to show that he was listening, reminding Mason of those matronly society gossips who salivated over every bit of juicy on dit. The blasted hound even punctuated their one-sided conversations with well-timed licks, whimpers, and half-barks.
But she was talking again, and that was all that mattered. Soon, she’d be speaking aloud to the world.
Nora cleared her throat and attempted to change the flirtatious conversation by waving her hand at all the dishes still sitting on the blanket, but she couldn’t hide the pretty blush that pinked her cheeks. “I think your cook packed enough for two picnics.”
“We could stay here for dinner.” For breakfast after that. For all the meals to come. Lately, he’d been thinking a lot about doing just that with her—spending every day together. He’d never wanted a future with any woman before. But Nora made him want exactly that. And more.
During the afternoons they’d spent driving around the city—and the afternoons when they’d simply sat unmoving in the drive—they’d talked for hours and gotten to know each other. It had been their own odd style of courting, he supposed, with Emmeline acting as chaperone, in which he could do nothing more than caress Nora’s hand or steal a kiss to her cheek. Over miles spent circling the park, they’d grown to trust each other and had shared stories of their lives and interests—him with how he’d grown his business into one of the largest in England, buying up warehouses along canals and shipping harbors until he could eventually afford to buy the ships and canal boats themselves, and her with how much she’d struggled since her husband’s death.
He’d never been jealous of a dead man before. But then, he’d also never cared for another woman as much as he’d come to care for Nora. He’d never realized until he met her how empty his life was without her in it.
“Dinner, hmm?” She sent him one of those chastising looks that only a mother could perfect. “And what do we tell the highwaymen who stop us on our way home at night?”
“They wouldn’t dare stop us. Not with a fierce dog like Brutus with us.”
At the bottom of the hill, Emmeline stuck a daisy behind the dog’s ear. He licked her on the tip of her nose.
Nora arched a brow.
Needing to escape this conversation, and spurred on by dark thoughts that had plagued him since the night they’d met, he urged quietly, “Tell me about your marriage.”
Her blue eyes darted to meet his. For one moment, unease glowed in their depths before she dismissed his request with a shake of her head. “I’ve already told you everything about Davenport. He wasn’t that unusual of a man.”
“Not your husband. Your marriage.” He sat up, bringing himself closer to her on the blanket. “What was it like?”
“Ordinary.” She reached toward one of the plates. “Would you like another of the tea cakes? They’re delicious.”
No. She wasn’t getting out of this conversation that easily. He covered her hand with his and slowly pulled it toward him so he could enfold it in both of his. Beneath his fingers, he felt her tremble.
She feigned exasperation. “There’s nothing to tell, Mason. Honestly. Davenport and I had a typical society marriage.”
“You call your husband by his title and never by anything more endearing, which leads me to believe that there was no love between you.”
She started to argue, then changed her mind and sighed heavily. “As I said,” she admitted, “it was a typical society marriage.”
He expected her to pull her hand away. Instead, she slowly laced her fingers through his.
