“It’s rather a relief to know there’s something you’re not good at.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Ha! You’re right about that. I can’t think of a single thing I’m not good at.”
“Hm. I’m sure I can come up with something if I try.” She moved to the cut on his cheekbone and applied the cloth with more pressure than before.
His hand shot up to cover hers and pull it away from his face. “Ow. Impossible.”
She returned to the cut with a lighter touch. “You did not win that fight tonight.”
His brows lowered. “I wasn’t trying to win. I was trying to break it up.”
“Will you often come home late at night with such bruises and scrapes? If you do, I'll have the opportunity to practice my nursing skills a bit more, and you’ll find I’ll become quite excellent at that, too.”
He did not reply.
“Does my confidence disgust you?” Her body buzzed, awaiting his answer.
He tweaked her chin. “Not at all. I find it, for lack of a better term, arousing. I found it quite difficult today to remember I dislike you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Did you just say you forgot to dislike me?” She rolled her eyes. “Romance, thy name is Devon Pennworthy.” Finished with his lip, she threw the cloth into the basket and joined him on the chaise. Her body sank into exhaustion, and she slumped into his side.
His arm stole around her shoulders and pulled her closer, and she laid her head on his chest. He laid his chin on the top of her head.
“There’s one thing I do not understand,” she said with a yawn.
His silence invited her to continue.
“If you are opposed to using your funds from your family, your inheritance, how do you plan to buy Frederick’s?”
“I’ve been gambling. But now that we are to wed and you need a respectable sort of fellow, I’ll have to give that up. At least, I’ll not visit the hells and gambling clubs. I suppose card rooms at balls and the betting book at White’s, while risky, is still respectable. There’s always work at the docks, though it’s more difficult. Pay is less. Last resort, though.” He whistled. “Mustn’t further tarnish our reputations.”
“Then what will you do?” she asked softly.
“Investments. I only hope I can make my money back soon enough.”
“How long did Freddy say you have?”
“Two more months. Less, really. I would be closer to meeting the date and the price if we were not…” He swallowed. “A marriage is an expensive thing.”
She nodded, her chin rubbing against the soft wool of his coat. His words dropped sadness over her like a heavy blanket. He was a good man, risking the realization of his own dream in order to make hers come true. She could not give up on her wallflowers, but she wished he did not have to pay this price for her.
“You’ve grown so still,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “Are you alive?”
“Can’t you feel my heart beating?”
They were pressed so close together, so comfortably and so naturally, that their hearts had begun to beat in time. She put her hand on his chest and tapped out the rhythm, felt his lips rest on the top of her head.
She pulled away and looked up at him.
“You’re sad,” he said. “Or does it just look that way because the moon is throwing shadows over your face?”
“I feel a bit sad. It’s likely because I’ll never see that red cloak again.” She sighed, a dramatic rent through the midnight air.
He marched his fingers down one of her thighs to the very knee. “I’ll get you another.” His voice held a frown. “Or go retrieve the one we abandoned tomorrow. That’s not truly what bothers you, is it?”
“It’s quite late. That is likely the problem. I should go up to bed.” Her muscles bunched to stand, to leave him behind.
