‘Ah, I see. Perhaps you could tell me how I should behave then. You are, after all, an expert on all things proper and correct.’
Prickles of heat ran across her skin. She knew she had no feasible explanation, that any retort was already usurped by the fact shewasin the wrong. She’d taken the risk of coming into the duke’s garden because this particular place on Earth was her idea of paradise. She’d found the secluded area quite by chance.
One day, she’d been so desperate to escape from her mother’s constant stream of criticism that she’d done the unthinkable and slipped through a gap in the wall where some bricks had come loose and fallen to the ground, between her family’s property and the duke’s. Freddie was right; she normally followed all the rules Society her mother had drummed into her, life wouldn’t be worth living if she didn’t, but on this one occasion she had done something a little risky and in doing so had discovered this tranquil corner of the duke’s garden. She was drawn to it in a way she couldn’t quite explain. There was something different to see in every season, but at this time of year, it was at its best. Flowers peeked out from behind large plants, birds nested high in the overhead branches and newly emerged leavesrustled in the soft spring breeze; it was endlessly fascinating and beautifully peaceful.
She’d been coming here for the last eighteen months, knowing that every time she did she was taking a gamble but nonetheless deciding it was a low-risk one. The duke was practically a recluse and his brothers rarely visited him. In all the time she had been coming to the garden, she had not seen a single soul, but of course, when she finally did, it had to be Freddie.
The tight corset that pulled her into the shape her mother required bound her ribs so tightly she could barely breathe and with every moment that ticked onwards, it seemed even more restrictive. This afternoon, she’d needed time to escape her mother, to take some time for herself and to remember things were never as bad as they seemed. This tranquil garden had provided her with some of that, but each second she spent with Freddie, the peacefulness she’d fought so hard to gain was floating away. ‘You are correct. I should not be here.’
He straightened slightly. ‘This really is a momentous occasion. Miss Emily Hawkins has admitted that I, Frederick Dashworth, am correct. I must have that embroidered on a cushion along with today’s date.’
‘You cannot even be gracious right now, can you? It would be the work of nothing to accept my apology and pretend this never happened.’
‘Firstly—’ Freddie held up one long finger ‘—I cannot accept an apology that has not been issued. Secondly, as you already know, I am frivolous by nature. I will have forgotten all about this the minute you leave.’
‘I do not doubt it.’
His dark eyes narrowed and a momentary pang of guilt hit her. That last comment was a bit rude, even for their encounters. While they didn’t get on, it did appear to be an unwritten rule of their… discussions that they didn’t become too personal. Her last comment skimmed painfully close to a particular insult, reminding them both he had not had the wits to finish university like his brothers.
‘You really should go,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘To be seen here with me could have ruinous consequences for both of us.’
She gasped as she realised he was right. God forbid that someone see her here with Freddie, because the last thing either of them needed was to be forced into marriage to each other.Thatwould be a hell neither of them would be able to tolerate. Freddie was charming to everyone else with his wide smiles, his ready compliments and his engaging conversation, but to her he was… he was… well, perhaps she couldn’t blame all their animosity on him. He thought she was boring because she loved to read and she thought he was a lout because he hated any sort of learning and showed his disdain for books whenever he could. They were destined to forever be at odds with each other and now she had given him the upper hand.
She scrambled to her feet. ‘I must go. Please do not tell anyone you saw me here. I am sure you will not, given that you would be as loath to be forced into marrying me as I would to you.’
He opened his mouth as if to speak but then he paused. She gripped her book tightly; surely he would not refuse? Slowly, he nodded. ‘You have my word no one shall ever know of this encounter. I would not want you to be coerced into doing something so abhorrent as to have to spend more time with me.’
She stepped forward, still clutching her book as if it were her armour, but he didn’t move out of her way. She stopped where she was, her gaze fixed on his chin as she fought to hold on to her composure.
‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘What is it about this spot that you like?’
She’d been expecting a teasing comment, something to set her on edge or make her feel guilty for asking him to keep this secret betweenthem. This question was so unexpected, she gazed up into his dark brown eyes, momentarily lost for words. The thing with Freddie Dashworth was that he was always laughing. He never took a single thing seriously. While she stood on the edge of a ballroom or engaged in a clumsy awkward dance, counting down the minutes until she could return home and curl up in her bed with a story or a book on historical events, Freddie was always the centre of attention, men and women surrounding him in adoring crowds throughout the night. While she often lacked a dance partner, Freddie only had to glance at a woman and she fell into his arms. He and his partner would swirl around the dance floor, smiling and laughing the whole way, and although she really did not want to watch, she always did. She would love to have even a tiny bit of Freddie’s ease with her partners, but her dances were always stilted, the conversations awkward. If she and Freddie had not been mortal enemies, she would have loved to dance with him, to share in the joke, but he had never asked her.
Freddie was never serious. Never.
Until now.
The way he was holding himself was different; he was stiff, the line of his shoulders tense. For some unfathomable reason, her answer mattered to him. She briefly considered holding her tongue, their age-old animosity sparking beneath her skin. But that would be mean and petty. Besides, he had promised not to reveal her transgression to anyone; the least she could do was to answer him honestly. ‘The light.’
‘The light?’ He glanced up at the branches dancing above him, but he still didn’t seem to be mocking her.
‘Yes, the way it comes through the leaves at this time of year, the way it ripples in the spring breeze.’ She paused to see if he was laughing at her, but his gaze was thoughtful as he took in the leaves above them. ‘I find it soothing.’ She didn’t add that sometimes she desperately craved that solace; he didn’t need to know her that well.
He seemed to understand anyway. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly.
What an odd thing to say. This wasn’t his garden, these weren’t his leaves; his thanks was unnecessary. But she’d long since given up trying to understand him. She’d long ago decided it was a waste of her peace of mind to think about this irksome man any more than was strictly necessary.
She watched him carefully. His shoulders hitched as if he was about to say something more, but in the end he only stepped aside to let her past.
ChapterThree
Freddie leaned against the trunk of a tree and watched Miss Hawkins scurry out of sight. She was so clever and learned, the exact opposite of him. She dressed to perfection with not a hair out of place and she looked at his attire as if she couldn’t fathom ever being so scruffy. Not that Freddie dressed badly; it was just he never bothered making sure everything was crisp and perfect, not like Miss Uptight-Prim-and-Proper Hawkins. Miss Hawkins never broke the rules, never did anything improper and he teased her for it whenever he got the chance, which wasn’t often because she went out of her way to avoid him. Two good reasons why it had been a real shock to see her sitting in the duke’s garden, amongst the flowers, completely absorbed in her book.
He could have left her—a true gentleman would have pretended not to have noticed and stepped away—but he couldn’t help needling her. There was something so pleasurable in the way she glared at him. How she loathed him! It was amusing to watch her try to be polite toward him whenever they were out in Society. She’d get a slight squinty look in her wide, hazel-coloured eyes as she forced out a pleasantry and it would take everything in him not to grin back at her. It was always a highlight of any social event, one he only ever allowed himself to indulge in once an evening. His brothers might tell him hewas uncouth for such behaviour, but they would never know, so he wasn’t worried about that.
Miss Hawkins had no such qualms about being polite towards him if they ever happened to bump into one another when there was no one else around to witness their interaction. He would throw out something, some remark designed to get a reaction, and he loved nothing more than when the normally perfectly put-together, polite, demure Miss Perfect scowled at him. She was a burr under his skin, a menace, and someone who viewed him with utter contempt. It would be better for both of them if he could leave her alone completely.
It was a real shame for his mind that his body seemed to adore her. Whilehefound the way her nose turned up at the sight of him irritatingly amusing, hisbodyseemed to sit up like an eager puppy whenever she was in the vicinity. While his mind told him to stay the hell away from her, his body craved her undivided attention. It was his body which strode across a ballroom with the express purpose of getting a terse set-down from her, all the while his mind shouting at him that he should keep well away.
