Henry cleared his throat, not sure if he dared speak such fond words aloud. Writing them was far easier. “Funnily enough, it was another apology. I felt awful about the ball last night and it kept me awake. Instead of drinking some warm milk and forcing myself to sleep, I wrote to you instead.”
“You do not have to tell me the contents if you do not want to. I have the letter waiting,” she replied, smiling.
He turned his gaze out to the water lilies that had opened up in the sunlight, revealing creamy petals, tinged with bright purple. “I told you that… my greatest regret about last night was not dancing with you. The Viennese Waltz will always be our dance, Arabella. Even as I was upon the floor, without you, it felt entirely wrong. I cannot properly explain it, but though my feet were dancing correctly, it seemed as though they did not belong to me.”
“I am grateful I did not dance the Viennese Waltz with Lord Bilverston,” she admitted with a grimace. “I do not like to be unkind, but I cannot fathom why his lips are always so wet. Do you think he might have a condition of some kind? Ought he see a physician?”
Henry cackled. “I shall suggest it to him when I see him next.”
“You mustn’t!” Arabella looked horrified. “He might not be a very… charming sort of gentlemen, but he will have his pride, as all gentlemen do. I would not wish him to be self-conscious about such a thing.”
Henry guided her around a puddle. “It might be the most generous thing to do though, Arabella. Think of his future wife. He might stand a greater chance of gaining a bride if his lips were not like slugs.”
“Youarewicked.” She gave him a nudge in the ribs, though her eyes gleamed with amusement.
They walked the rest of the way around the near side of the fishing lake in companionable silence, peppered with the occasional remark about a dragonfly skimming for insects, or the prettiness of the lilies, or the ripples of a fish that had jumped up to snatch a fly. All the while, Henry used his free hand as a shade for Arabella’s face, for she had neglected to bring her parasol with her, and the sun was fiercely bright.
“Would you like to rest for a moment in the lake house?” Henry asked, conscious of the red flush in her cheeks and the appearance of a few new freckles. Personally, he found freckles endearing, but he knew ladies did not.
She nodded. “I fear I might expire from the heat if I do not.” A frustrated breath huffed between her lips. “I wish I had brought a picnic for us. It would be divine on such a day of this, and we could dip our feet into the water while drinking cool elderflower cordial and devouring ham sandwiches.”
In that moment, Henry saw his future. Or, rather, the future he was beginning to want more and more. He could envision them on the beach, at his family’s estate in Somerset, picnicking in the summer to their hearts’ content. He saw them walking hand in hand through the surf, picking up unusual shells and skimming stones. In the colder months, he would have her read to him by a roaring fireplace, and perhaps she might read to their children, too, if they were blessed.
“Are you well?” Arabella seemed suddenly concerned. “You look as though you have seen a ghoul. Is it your jaw? Is it causing you great pain?”
He blinked away the wonderful thoughts. “Not at all, Arabella. It is the heat. Come, let us hurry to the lake house.”
Deciding to defy the disapproving look he might gain from the maid, Henry scooped Arabella up into his arms, grinning at the sound of her startled yelp. Holding her tight, he ran the rest of the way to the small, wooden structure up ahead. It was little more than a robust hut, in truth, but it had a shaded porch that jutted out over the water. The perfect spot for them to escape the ferocious heat.
“I think the sunshine has addled your mind!” Arabella laughed breathlessly as he set her down on the creaky boards of the porch front. “If my mother had seen you, she would have fainted from the shame.”
Henry grinned. “Then it is fortunate she cannot see us, and that your chaperone is not an awful gossip.”
“How do you know she is not?” Arabella teased. “That horse topiary has been chopped down after your scathing evaluation, andIdid not tell my mother of its obscenities.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “No, that cannot be! That is my favorite piece! For all its ugliness and unseemliness, it had a vulgar charm.”
“I jest,” she replied, walking toward the edge of the porch and sitting down. “It is precisely where it has always been, looming over the kitchen garden and frightening any children who come to visit.”
Henry pretended to mop his brow. “Thank goodness for that. You had me worried for a moment.” He turned his gaze away as Arabella loosened the laces of her leather boots and removed them, setting them beside her. Knowing her stockings might be next, he thought it only polite that he did not look.
“I am decent. You may come and sit with me.” She chuckled, kicking her feet in the clear water, disturbing a school of tiny fish.
That was not exactly true, for he could clearly see her pale ankles and almost half of her calves through the lake’s surface. Nevertheless, he sat down and removed his shoes, rolling up his trousers so he could dip his own feet in the refreshing water.
We are betrothed, after all. No one could protest a moment of impropriety, when we are merely trying to cool ourselves.
“Cassie!” Arabella shouted out to her chaperone. “Will you come and join us? The water is wonderfully warm.”
The maid leaned against the balustrade of the porch, smiling fondly. “I wouldn’t dare to impose, Milady. You two enjoy yourselves while you have the chance. I won’t tell a soul about the bare feet.” She winked at Arabella who turned a charming shade of pink. “I’ll go and sit under that tree over there and whistle if anyone comes along.”
“I adore you, Cassie.” Arabella grinned.
“As I adore you, Milady.”
Granted privacy, Henry could not help but marvel at Arabella. Her gown was slightly stained, her hair was somewhat wild, her freckles were out in force, and half of her lower legs were entirely uncovered. He had never seen any woman more remarkable than her, at that moment. This was the unassuming, unfettered, charming version of her, who was loving toward her lady’s maid and quick to laugh. The best version, to his mind.
“I ought to throw this entire garment into the lake,” she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head up to the porch’s wooden awning, where a few slices of sunlight crept through in dusty beams.
