He is infuriating to look at sometimes.
He was cold and rigid in manner at this moment, as he would often be when he fell silent around her.
She found his clothes as irritating as she did his face. Even from when she had been a child, she had thought Stephen far too handsome for his own good. That rich dark brown hair had a habit of being too perfect. That strong and rather square jaw added a regalness to his face, those small and rather intense blue eyes shooting more powerful gazes than she had seen in any other. He was always clean-shaven and incredibly well-kept in a way she could never hope to be.
Even now, she adjusted one of the buttons on the cuff of her suede gloves and reached down to adjust the hem of her gown, where she had earned a muddy stain on her walk to the carriage that morning.
“No matter how many times you say it, it will not change the fact that this is happening,” Stephen said with perfect calmness, one hand clutching a swagger stick loosely, a mark of fashion, with the tip thrust into the carriage floor between them, as the other rested softly in his lap.
Dorothy was jostled as the carriage rolled over potholes, but the bumpiness didn’t appear to disturb Stephen.
Always so bloody immaculate. How is he capable of that? How can he not even be affected by the science of force?
“Look, neither of us is pleased about this outcome,” he added, looking down at his swagger stick.
“Pff!” Her scoff was enough to make him look at her again.
“But we can get on with it. Hardly the first time we’ve been forced into one another’s company.”
“Every Christmas, you have disturbed my company. Every summer. Every spring. Though in autumn, you and Allan go hunting, so I’m usually permitted a few days of peace.” She smiled, feeling some triumph when Stephen narrowed his eyes at her.
She didn’t know why she took such pleasure in angering him. Perhaps it was because she was the only one who could disturb that façade of perfect calm. Around her, he wasn’t as proper as he was with others, at least.
“You should watch your manners if you’re hoping to catch a husband on this trip.”
“Catch a husband? It is hardly as if I’m going fishing, is it?” She laughed, outraged at the idea. She jerked her head toward her lady’s maid, wary of waking her up, but the maid simply snorted in her sleep and continued to doze.
Why is everyone so keen on me marrying all of a sudden?
The idea was ridiculous, pushing her into being bound to another man. Yet, even as a part of her mind argued against it, she saw an opportunity in the idea of being married. If she could find a man a little like her, someone who did not care what the ton thought, then perhaps they could leave the world of the ton behind.
She wouldn’t have to attend balls and parties she had no liking for. Instead, she could be free, and the pair of them could explore the world as she wished to. They could go on great walks together, enjoying the outside world and all its beauty.
“It is what young ladies do. They marry,” Stephen stated hotly. “Or, Dorotheo, will you do as I always suspected of you and defy being the young woman you are?”
“I am capable of finding a suitor,” Dorothy insisted, sitting tall, though the idea made her fidget with her gloves even more. She’d never had a suitor, nor even wanted one. She couldn’t imagine having someone else that she stared at relentlessly, angered by their handsomeness.
One such man was bad enough.
“Are you?” Stephen asked with a sudden laugh. “Then you’ll need better manners if you are to find one. Trust me.Iknow.”
“And what do you know about being a suitor? Oh, or is what my brother said true?” She leaned forward, across the small space between them in the carriage. The small gust of wind that drifted through the open window made the ribbons of her bonnet dance around her shoulders. “Are you here to hunt for a wife?”
“Perhaps.” Stephen leaned forward, too, resting his weight on his swagger stick, so they came incredibly close. “And I warrant I know more about courtship than you do, Dorotheo. If you want a man, you should trust my advice.”
“And be well-behaved? Be like an ornament?” She sat back and sat as stiffly as she could, flattening her lips and staring unblinkingly at him. She opened her lips at the very end and spoke through the tiny gap, trying not to move a muscle, “Is this better? Is this what men want?”
She could have sworn Stephen held himself back from laughing as he shook his head at her.
“Why men insist gentlemen want ladies who are as prim and still as porcelain always baffles me.” She rolled her eyes. “Would you not want someone with a heart, Stephen?”
“No.”
“No!?” she spluttered, leaning forward once more, only to discover he hadn’t yet leaned back. Their knees bumped, and they both looked down. Stephen moved the swagger stick between them, keeping them apart. “Need a barrier from me now?”
“Something like that,” he mumbled in a low tone, his eyes narrowing. “All I seek in a wife is the perfect Duchess. I need a fine lady.”
“Oh, let me guess.” She flung her arms madly, taking on the dramatic countenance of some actress on the stage. “You require a lady who can host balls as well as breathing, someone whose bodice is pulled so tight that, in fact, she doesn’t have to breathe at all anymore. Or perhaps you require a lady that will speak like a mouse when you speak to her, and otherwise will sit in a corner, drinking tea, never daring to step outside and get the hem of her skirt muddy at all.”
