“Can’t you?” he asked dryly.
“No, I—” She gave him a thoughtful look. “You don’t mean...”
He nodded. “Your nephew is no fool, so if he’s introducing impossible men to Miss Bamber, there’s a reason for it.”
A faint crease appeared between her brows. “You don’t mean he wants her to fail, surely? When he knows the situation I am in.”
“It’s more likely he wants them to fail—the impossible men.”
“Ohhh,” she said on a long note. “I see what you mean. Do you know, several times I’ve thought those two were playing some sort of deep game. But honestly, if they have feelings for each other, why not say so—why not act on it instead of all this contrary rigmarole?”
“Why not indeed,” he said meditatively. He gave her a thoughtful sidelong glance, opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again and decided not to say what was on the tip of his tongue. Instead he said, “I don’t know Lucy well enough to guess, but as for your nephew, I’m not sure he realizes it himself. He just knows who he doesn’t want her to marry. And thus, all these impossible men.”
“What a devious boy he is. I am still cross with him, however. Do you know, at Vauxhall the other night, Gerald had the temerity to abandon Lucy and me tohoursof Mr.Carswell lecturing us on pig breeds, the creation of and uses of—all with absolutely no encouragement! Gerald just walked off, leaving us stuck with Mr.Carswell in full porcine flight!”
James couldn’t help laughing. “Flying pigs, were they?”
Her lips twitched, but she managed to say with a fair attempt at indignation, “You, sir, are a callous beast, laughing at my misfortune. You may put me down at once.”
“Here? In the middle of nowhere? Now that would be abandonment. Now, how shall we punish your nephew? String him up by his thumbs? Place him in the stocks? Or, better still, lock him in a cell with Ffolliot and your bacon-brained pig man.”
“He is notmypig man.” She tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably. “An hour with Carswell would teach you.”
He patted her hand. “Poor love, you have endured some dreadful people, haven’t you?”
There was a short silence. “What did you call me?” she said quietly.
Ah. “When?” he said unconvincingly.
“You must not say such things,” she said after a moment. “It is not appropriate.”
James took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to raise this now, but the word had slipped out and the time had come. “I think it’s entirely appropriate.”
She looked away from him, her gloved fingers knotting restlessly. “I told you when we first met that I wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship.”
“Yes, but—”
“And using words of... of endearment is not fitting for a friendship between a man and a woman.”
“What if I want more than friendship?”
She shook her head distressfully. “No, no. It’s not possible.” He couldn’t see her face for the damned bonnet. He wanted to pull it off and toss it away.
He placed a hand over her twisting fingers. “Look at me, Alice.”
She stilled. “And you should not be calling me Alice. I have not given you permission.”
“Look at me, please. We cannot discuss this with your face turned away from me.”
“We’re not going to discuss it at all.” She finally turned her head, and he saw at once that she was distressed, more than he’d imagined. And it wasn’t simply a matter of propriety, so what was it?
“It’s marriage I’m talking about, nothing dishonorable.”
She shook her head. “I can’t—I won’t marry again.”
“Why not?” he asked softly, and then when she remained silent, he added, “Can you not trust me a little? I promise you, I won’t bite.”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head, her lips pressedtogether—to hide their trembling, he thought. What could be so distressing about an offer of marriage?
