She laughed, low and hoarse. “On the contrary. I think it’s entirely too dangerous to be alone with you.”
He cleared his throat with a look that sent a shimmering tingle of light through her entire body.
“Or perhaps you could stay, if I promise to behave,” he said. “I could give you a tour?”
She jumped at the chance. “Yes,” she said.
She smoothed out her dress and clasped her hands behind her back, following him around the grounds.
“My mother used to love this garden,” he said, careful to keep an arm’s distance between them. He showed her a lush boxwood knot garden with carved ivory statues studded throughout the greenery, their crisp white echoing the bursts of cream-colored hydrangea. Thorndale English ivy threaded amid fixtures of patinated bronze, all encircling a three-tier, Parisian fountain. It was the garden of her dreams. If she lived there, she would situate herself on the wrought iron bench with a book and never leave.
“My father is coming into town next week,” Theo said. “He hopes that my time in St. Louis has changed my mind about wanting to find some sort of occupation rather than merely be a gentleman.”
“You wish to work?” she asked. She couldn’t believe how handsome he was. That she was in Theodore Parker’s gardens. That he had justkissedher.
“I’d like to do something meaningful with my life, yes,” he said.
He turned, suddenly close enough to graze her. “How admirable,” she said, lightly teasing, but all she wanted was for him to kiss her again. He swallowed, searching her eyes. When she bit her lip, he guided her a step backward until Grace felt the brush of the stone fountain behind her.
“You were saying?” she asked faintly.
“My father thought I’d change my mind, living the life of a gentleman here these last few months. But if anything, it’s made me want something real even more.” His voice was dusky as he leaned toward her. “The fair has shown me glimpses of what is possible. And how short life can sometimes be.”
“Working or not, you’ve shown you will always be a gentleman,” she said, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, as though she were about to swoon. His hands tightened on her ribs.
“I’m trying very hard to behave, Miss Covington. You’re making that difficult.”
She lifted her lips to his ear. “You must know by now that I’m not much for following rules.”
He made a sound somewhere between a low laugh and a growl.
“May I assume this means you’ve accepted my dinner invitation for tonight?” he said.
Her soaring heart promptly sank.
“I can’t. My intrepid reporting has gotten me barred from the fairgrounds,” she said. “I don’t think they’ll let me in.”
“Well, who needs it? We’ll go somewhere else, then,” he said. “I’d rather dine with you than the president tonight.”
“If I had a penny for every time I’ve heardthatbefore,” she said.
He laughed, low and curling, like smoke and touched the bow of her lips.
“I’ll change and we can go,” he said. With a bow, he left her sitting along the fountain, letting the faint mist wet her skin.
They decided on the restaurant Piccadilly at Manhattan.
Theodore gave the directions and his carriage turned west.
He looked debonair. He wore a coat with tails, a white tie, white gloves, and a silk top hat, and was carrying a cane.
He kept stealing glances at her from across the carriage.
“You have always driven me a little crazy, Miss Covington,” he said. “Since that very first night.”
“At the Fair?” she asked. “In the ill-fated little canal boat with Oliver and Harriet?”
“No,” he said softly. “Even before that. In Chicago.”
