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“Tell me that you don’t feel the same,” he demanded. “My Lady—I’m going to prove it to you,” he said. “I’m going to—"
She sighed, causing him to stop. “Please, Your Grace, if you’re going to do it, do it for yourself, but not for me.”
She was right, of course. “I promise you, My Lady. Nothing will tarnish your name. However, if I could ask one thing of you,” he pressed, as a plan began to form in his mind.
“What is it, Your Grace?”
“Would you meet me out here?” he dared to ask. They were on the hill, which overlooked Kirby Hall. There were a few trees, scattered about.
“That would be a scandal, for certain,” she said, her eyes wide with anger.
“Just us talking here is a scandal,” he pointed out. “Please. I want to prove to you, to spend more time with you. If you do not feel the same, then do not come. But tomorrow, I will be waiting for you, just over there. If you do not come, then I will know that you don’t care for me.”
She sighed heavily, her eyes on Kirby Hall, in the distance. “I will consider it, Your Grace.”
“That’s all I ask, My Lady.”
“Come, Your Grace,” she said. “We must be getting back to Kirby Hall. I believe that you have news for my uncle?”
“I do, My Lady.”
“Come,” she said. “You can tell me all about it as we walk back, Your Grace.”
“Isn’t that a bit lurid for a Lady?”
“Is it that my constitution is too delicate, or that you don’t want to share the news, Your Grace?” she asked wryly.
“Very well, My Lady.”
