He made an approving sound. After a moment, he said, “You should talk to Kieran. It takes a while to get him to open up, but once he does…it’s instructive.”
She could imagine. “I will sometime.” Assuming they married.
“Apropos of our earlier discussion about living in London and living in the country, it’s always seemed to me that to make any sort of difference on any major issue, one has to be prepared to live in London and contend with the social-cum-political scene. There’s no getting away from the fact the two spheres are inextricably linked.”
“Indeed.” She thought of the prospect he was alluding to—where they would live if they married. After a moment, she glanced at him, then lowered herself to lie alongside him.
A good few inches separated them, but then he drew one hand from beneath his head, reached and found her hand, and twined his fingers with hers.
While innocent enough, in the circumstances, the gesture felt strangely intimate.
Without letting herself think too hard, she lightly gripped his fingers back.
She stared up at the shards of blue sky framed by the greening branches overhead. After a second of sorting through her thoughts, she said, “I have to confess that I view London society purely as an arena in which useful contacts and connections are made. It’s the value of those contacts and connections in facilitating one’s ability to accomplish things—as you said, to make a difference—that makes the fuss and bother of the ton worthwhile.” After reviewing her words, she wondered, “Is it terribly cold-blooded to view social events in that light?”
He huffed cynically. “Not at all. In fact, I guarantee that a large percentage of those with any power at all hold much the same view. Having to endure ton events—the crushes, the often-inane conversations, the furious matchmaking, and so on—isn’t attractive to most of us and certainly isn’t what keeps us coming back.”
“Hmm. Well, in that case, I confess I’ve never been fond of crowded entertainments, but I’ve learned to tolerate them in pursuit of a meaningful goal, which is to say that I accept the ton and its events as a necessary evil.”
He laughed, raised her hand, and brushed a light kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve never heard it put so well.”
She tamped down her reaction to the light caress and steadfastly ignored the warmth spreading through her.
“So,” he went on, “given all that, how would you feel about spending most of the year in the country—in Derbyshire, to be precise? Would you be—could you be—happy if we came down to London only for the height of the Season and a few weeks in autumn?”
That gave her the perfect opening to command, “Carsington Castle and that estate—tell me about it, in detail this time.”
He did. They spent nearly an hour with her questioning—interrogating—and him freely answering.
When she ran out of questions, she felt confident in stating, “In light of all that, I’m sure I’ll be able to find duties, endeavors, and interests sufficient to keep me occupied.” She already had ideas for several improvements she would like to explore. She turned her head and met his eyes. “That’s really all I need to be happy—things to accomplish.”
His smile was swift. He came up on one elbow and, leaning over her, with his free hand brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead.
The look in his gray eyes…stole her breath.
For long moments, she stared at him, at what he allowed her to see, fascinated, mesmerized…wanting to know yet more.
But while they seemed to be enclosed in their own private space, in reality, they were in public, and the towpath ran only yards away.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to shatter the moment. She raised a hand and lightly stroked the side of his face.
He turned his head and pressed a heated kiss to her palm, and what little breath she’d managed to catch fled all over again.
His lids, which had fallen, rose lazily. He looked down at her, then his lips quirked into a gentle smile. “Perhaps, all things considered, it might be time for our high tea.”
She laughed and nodded. He shifted back, then rose and held out a hand to help her to her feet.
Julian closed his fingers about hers. He felt heartened, reassured, not just by her responses but by the tenor of their exchanges. The latter testified to the closeness that was steadily building between them; he was quite sure neither would speak to anyone else in such an unrestrained, uncensored way.
As he waited for her to flick out her skirts, he felt quietly content. All was progressing as it should; he had absolutely no qualms in going forward with their engagement and was increasingly confident she was coming to feel the same way.
With luck, he would be able to ask her for her decision soon. As he tensed to haul her up, he scanned her face, but balked at pushing the point that afternoon; he was not quite ready to risk all yet.
With a grin, he hauled her upright, briefly steadying her with an arm around her waist.
She laughed, but then her gaze went past him, and the smile fell from her face.
Instantly, he released her and turned. “What?”
