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Cordelia turned and fled the room, not looking back at either man. She couldn’t. She ran blindly through the house and out to the back garden where she found herself in the exact spot she’d taken Ash the night before.
She stopped just under the trees, looking to the center where he’d held her in his arms. She’d wanted to know what she’d be giving up last night. And he’d given her a taste of romance and passion.
Would her husband give her the same? She shook her head. Somehow, she couldn’t picture wanting another man the way she wanted Ash. And so, she’d get neither. No music and no romantic fire. “My life is ruined,” she said to the trees.
“You don’t know that,” a deep, rich baritone answered.
Ash. She spun about. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped into the light and crossed to the bench, taking a seat. Then he pointed up to the house. “We’re being watched.”
Cordelia turned. Just above the trees, she saw the windows of the breakfast room. Though she couldn’t see inside the house in the bright sunshine, she had no doubt her father looked out the window and down at them. “And so you were allowed down.”
“I was,” he answered. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help.”
She shook her head. “Can you save me from a season in London? From joining the marriage mart?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
She crossed and sat next to him. Technically speaking, he could save her from all those things. He could marry her. But he’d been clear on the topic and besides, the only thing worse than a marriage with one unwilling participant would be a marriage with two. “I should have known my father would never agree to let me be a spinster.”
He shook his head. “If my father had lived, I’m sure he would have forced me to marry.”
She glanced over at him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, his hand reaching for hers, their fingers just touching.
“Complaining about my father. I’ve heard you. Despite the light and airy façade you normally wear, you have a dark past.”
He gave her a curious stare. “I’ve had friends for years who didn’t realize that truth about me. How did you so quickly see into my past?”
She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. But tell me about him. Your father.” She didn’t want to talk about herself.
He smiled softly. The sort of smile she’d seen him use often the past several days. “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “We’re talking about you.”
Her cheeks flushed as she gazed toward the trees. “Despite my dramatic exit from the breakfast room and my statement to the trees, the air has cleared my head.”
“Your life isn’t ruined?” He gave her a teasing grin.
She smiled back. “No. I might yet convince him not to send me. He’s generally a soft man. And if even I can’t, plenty of women participate in society and don’t end up married.”
He cocked a brow. “That is very true.”
She waved her hand. “Besides, you have loads of information I need. Who else could educate me on the perils of society?” Somehow, she needed to keep talking to him. She couldn’t go back inside and face her father yet. “Tell me about London.”
Chapter Seven
London? Who cared about London? He liked it here, under the trees, listening to the birds. Holding her hand.
Ash enjoyed staring at the perfect ivory of her skin, tinged with just a touch of pink. And those warm liquid pools of brown gold that made up her eyes.
“London is dirty.” Packed with humanity, even the nice parts were often tinged with grime. He’d lived there most of his life and each year that passed, he liked the place less and less.
She shook her head. “That makes me feel loads better. I shall be with Aunt Mildred and her four yapping dachshunds in a dirty city trying to find a husband I don’t want.”
He chuckled, leaning a touch closer. He had the distinct urge to tell her that he’d be back in London too. That he’d check in on her but that was asking for trouble. It wasn’t his place and honestly, it was downright dangerous. So instead, he stood and bowed over her.
This was his usual self. “My lady,” he drawled, giving her a wicked smile. “Perhaps a dance to see you off.”
