“Nothing,Mamma.” Francesca pulled out of Winterbourne’s arms. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”
Her mother enfolded her in a warm hug, and Francesca closed her eyes and returned the embrace, just as she had when she’d been a little girl. Her mother’s hugs had never failed to make all right with the world then, so perhaps if she
hugged her hard enough, and wished long enough, her mother’s embrace would do the same today.
Fourteen
It was obvious Francescaloved her home, Ethan thought as she led him along the path to the stable. He nodded, only half-listening, as she proudly pointed out Tanglewilde’s various buildings, stopping to greet each servant. It would have made an ideal opportunity to learn the names of the staff and the layout of the estate’s grounds, if only he’d been listening.
Seeing Francesca embrace her mother so warmly, and Lady Brigham’s joyful return of affection, caused him a twinge of guilt. More than a twinge, actually. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so guilty. Could count on one hand the number of times he’deverfelt guilty.
He paused as Francesca was waylaid once again, this time by one of the dairymaids, and tried to determine where he’d gone wrong. He’d paced his chamber last night and thought he’d crafted the perfect plan. A betrothal. He’d written to Alex, given him the pertinent information, and asked his brother to work even harder at finding the leader of the smugglers.
Everything had come together as he’d anticipated, and he should be feeling a sense of satisfaction right now. Clearly, he hadn’t considered all the angles. He’d forgotten the female factor.
He swore under his breath. How could he have foreseen that Francesca would give him a look of such longing that he nearly bent down on one knee right there to propose in earnest? The proposal would have been ruined when he’d choked on the words. He would have to marry one day, his title demanded it, but that day was a long, long time away.
Francesca finished her conversation with the dairymaid and motioned him to follow her. At the rate they were moving, he estimated they’d arrive at the stables by next Thursday. But their slow progress didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, the fresh air revived her. The pale strained expression from the night before was gone,
and she looked happy, cheeks rosy and eyes shining. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
It wasn’t the first time that day. If he had any sense at all, he’d forbid her any and all chocolate while he was in residence at Tanglewilde. He’d nearly ravished her in the parlor when she’d inadvertently smudged chocolate from one of the tarts on her lush lower lip.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes from that smudge or from her. The need, the desire, to kiss her lips and taste that chocolate on them had driven him half-mad.
The smudge was gone now, and Ethan wished his attraction could be wiped away as easily. It might have been, if she didn’t insist on swinging her hips so seductively as she walked in front of him.
He averted his eyes and was relieved to find that the large stable complex loomed before them. He corralled his thoughts, bringing them back to the matter at hand. While she looked in on Skerrit’s horse, he could question the grooms.
“Miss Dashing!”
Ethan recognized the grizzled man who’d braved Brigham’s majordomo the night before emerging from the stable.
“I didn’t expect to see you this morning. Are you certain you’re well enough to be out and about?”
“I’m wonderful, Alfred.” Francesca waved and smiled. “Thanks to you.” They stopped beside the stable’s entrance, and she gave the man a quick hug. The old servant blushed with pleasure. She had Tanglewilde’s staff wrapped around her little finger, and she’d do the same to him if he wasn’t careful.
