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“We look too much like a family.” She motioned to Ernest who had paused to take a long sniff around a bench.
“Well, we are engaged. That is a family of sorts.”
“I do not like it, Blake. My aunt will be heartbroken when this ends.”
“I cannot imagine Aunt Sarah being even remotely melancholy.”
“Oh she will be,” Demeter assured him. “She was talking about wanting me to have a lo—” She clamped her mouth shut swiftly. What was wrong with her? Why would she even tell him such a thing?”
Blake’s brows lifted. “A lover?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“You did not take her advice, did you?” His tone was strange, as though he’d just swallowed something.
“Of course not!”
“Good.” His dimple flashed.
Demeter rolled her eyes.
“That is...”
“It is fine for you to have a lover but not for me. I know.” She waved away any excuses.
Her and her sisters had contemplated the hypocrisy of society and the sexes many a time and Demeter had never come to a firm conclusion as to why the standards were different except that it was because men ruled the world. Besides, she had rebelled once and it had not turned out well. The rules might be silly but it was far easier for her to abide by them.
“It’s not that—”
“Blake, I am not discussing this with you.”
“Even though I am your fiancé?”
“Temporarily.”
“You know, it we were truly to be married, I would wish to discuss such matters with you.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You would?”
“Is that so odd?”
“Well, even Aunt Sarah has never discussed the, uh, m-marriage bed with me. And I highly doubt my mother would have wished to either. Most girls I know are entirely in ignorance on their wedding eve.”
“I fail to see the appeal in a nervous, terrified bride. One’s wedding night should be for both of us.” He paused. “That is, it would be, if it were to happen.”
A fluttering sensation swept through her, starting in her stomach and spreading to every limb as she pictured how it might be to have a wedding night with Blake.
“What is it?”
Demeter puffed out her cheeks briefly, trying to bring some coolness into her face. Confessing her thoughts would only make her look a fool. “Nothing.” She shook her head vigorously and gave Ernest a little tug on his lead, encouraging him to walk away from the bench and follow her. “We should be discussing Mr. Foster, you know, and not this silly engagement business.”
“Yes. Of course,” he said in a flat tone.
She ignored the odd tension in his expression. “You know, I think I’ve discovered his tell.”
“His tell? But you haven’t played cards with him, have you?”
“No, but he blushes perpetually.”
