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“Not just any tree,” he said.
She smiled. “I thought not. More precisely, I hoped not.”
“It’s my favorite oak at Farleigh Manor,” he said. “It stands alone near a pond at the edge of the property, with a small wood not far from it. I spent many hours in that tree as a lad.”
“You’re a tree climber? I scrambled up more trees than I dare remember now, especially with Anthony—Alexander was there with us too when he was home from Eton.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in that way of his that was nearly a smile but not quite. “Just to clarify: I was a tree climber,” he said. “I can’t claim to have climbed any trees recently.”
His words sent a small ray of light into Louisa’s heart—knowing he had climbed trees gave the two of them their first real connection—which was undoubtedly foolish since most young boys climbed trees, after all. “Was and is are only a matter of attitude,” she said.
“I expect it shall remain a was, however,” he replied.
“One can never know for certain.” The painting meant more to her, though, now that she knew the history and sentiment behind it.
“We are nearly there,” he said, glancing out the carriage window. “And there is one more thing we must settle before we arrive.” Without any further warning, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, placing his hand on her cheek while he did, and catching her completely unawares.
It was not like the polite, gentle kisses she’d shared with the Earl of Kerridge. Not at all.
This kiss flared with a heat Louisa hadn’t experienced before. Her senses collided—the leather of his glove on her cheek, his lips pressed to hers, the scent of his shaving soap, the steady swaying of the carriage all coalesced into a sweet yearning she didn’t understand.
Long before she was ready, he ended the kiss and brushed his thumb across her chin. “Now you look like a woman who is newly betrothed.”
She pushed his hand away, feeling crushed and embarrassed. “Are you saying this was part of some strategy? How dare—”
His lips returned to hers, more insistent this time, his hand at the back of her head, taking his fill and yet giving too. And her senses responded once again, betraying her when she should be angry and indignant instead.
“No strategy,” he murmured a hair’s breadth from her lips.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. For why else would he have said such a thing to her after such a kiss? She closed her eyes, struggling to regain her composure and her dignity.
“It’s true, nonetheless.” His hand dropped to his lap.
They sat silently side by side during the all-too-brief carriage ride that remained before arriving at Lord and Lady Melton’s residence. Through the window, Louisa could see footmen in pristine livery assisting other guests from their carriages; nevertheless, when they themselves made it through the queue of arriving carriages, Lord Farleigh quickly descended and handed Louisa down himself, placing her hand securely in the crook of his arm.
“Courage, my lady,” he whispered to her as they entered the front doors to join other guests waiting to be received by Lord and Lady Melton.
Courage, indeed, she thought shakily.
* * *
William led Lady Louisa through the main doors, all the while wishing he could be anywhere else. His gut churned. He could almost smell the stench that clung to him from his father’s misdeeds and unsavory reputation. Beyond the Meltons’ gracious willingness to allow Lord Ashworth to announce the betrothal, William was uncertain what sort of welcome he would receive. He’d taken Lady Louisa’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, as it had seemed the gentlemanly and most confident approach to take. In reality, it undoubtedly gave him more support than it did her.
Lord and Lady Melton’s residence was an impressive dwelling, which only heightened William’s anxiety. The front doors opened to a spacious entry hall whose high ceiling echoed with the sounds of newly arrived guests greeting one another as they removed their wraps and handed them over to the footmen on duty. To the left of the entry hall, beyond a pair of open double doors, was an equally spacious sitting room, where William could see Lord and Lady Melton receiving their guests.
William expected to know very few of the people at the assembly this evening. There might be one or two classmates from Eton in attendance and some acquaintances from his Oxford days, but William had made few close friends during those years. He was not gregarious by nature, like Lord Halford, or even as amiable as Lord Anthony, the more reserved of Lady Louisa’s brothers. He’d simply gone about his schooling, happy to have something that occupied his mind and kept his days filled. And he’d continued that rather aloof behavior upon completing his studies at Oxford by heading north to Scotland and attending the University of Edinburgh, which was where Heslop had finally caught up with him and sent him word of his father’s death. He doubted any old acquaintances he’d had would even remember him.
It might have been his imagination, but it seemed to him that the echoing sounds in the entry hall increased in volume as the other guests began to notice that Lady Louisa Hargreaves was with a gentleman who was not Lord Kerridge. William was relieved to see that she was smiling, at least, even if there were signs of strain around her eyes. He doubted anyone else would notice, but William had an awareness of such subtleties of expression that his father had drilled into him. He pressed forward, his eyes firmly set on the door to the sitting room, hoping to get his introduction to his host and hostess out of the way. Meeting them would give him his first real clue about how the evening would play out.
Eventually, it was their turn. Lord Melton was a slightly built but distinguished-looking gentleman with hair the color of granite and a face creased with wrinkles that William suspected he’d gotten from smiling too much. Lady Melton was slightly taller than her husband and had similar wrinkles. They looked like a matched set.
“Lady Louisa, welcome,” Lord Melton said in a cheery voice. “Look who has finally arrived, Lady Melton.”
Lady Louisa slid her hand from the crook of William’s elbow and extended it to Lord Melton, who bowed over it. “Thank you, Lord Melton.”
William wanted to snatch her hand back.
“We are so honored to play a small part in this happiest of occasions,” Lady Melton said, taking both of Louisa’s hands in her own and sounding for all the world as though she meant what she said. “And you must introduce us to your young gentleman here.”
