“I am delighted you wished to acquaint yourself with the tenants, truly, but please, ask me to join you next time. I can watch over you then.”
“I am not incapable, Seth.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He matched her tone.
“Then let me do as I wish. That is what I enjoy about being here so much. I am free here. I have freedom. Do not start impeding it now.”
“I am not impeding your freedom. I am trying to keep you safe!” His sudden volume silenced her. He halted too, the only sounds between them their heavy breaths. She shifted her weight between her feet, her expression one of plain disbelief as her glacial eyes stared somewhere in the middle of his chest. “I mean, I…” he struggled with how to put it into words again and raised a hand, passing it over his face and scratching.
Abruptly, Charity smiled. It was rather soft and sweet compared to the anger that had been there a moment ago.
“It seems you rather care what happens to me.”
“Of course, I do,” he hissed, stepping toward her. “I asked you to marry me, did I not?” Yet he knew what she meant, and the fact she continued to just stand there smiling at him was making the reality all the more noticeable to him.
It could be argued that he had proposed to her in the midst of passion. That he had asked her from desire alone, but this outburst of his now showed quite clearly that it was more than just desire he felt.
I do care for you, Charity.
“Charity, please.” He stepped toward her and took her hand, raising it between the two of them. He turned it over and kissed the back, pausing when he saw her breath hitch, her chin turning up toward him. “I cannot bear the thought of any hurt or pain befalling you.”
Her smile grew a little more.
“I care for you too,” she said warmly, reading his words for what they really were. He laughed under his breath and shook his head.
“You still are remarkably perceptive for one who cannot see.”
She laughed too and they stood there together, holding each other’s hands.
“This must count as our first quarrel as a betrothed couple?” she said in jest.
“I suppose it does.”
“I hear that couples often find a good way to make up after they argue.” She raised herself on her toes, coming near to him.
“With a kiss?” He lowered himself to her and kissed her. It started small, a brief brush of lips together, before he wanted a longer taste of her. Angling their heads together, he persisted with the kiss, smiling into it. “Or maybe we could do something more as a way to make up?”
She laughed, taking his hint for what it was.
“By the way, there is something I wished to ask you.”
“And what is that?” he asked, raising her hand and kissing the back another time.
“It is about something I heard for the first time today, when I was with the tenants. They said something, they spoke of—” But she got no further as the clash of horse’s hooves rushed up the drive.
Seth whipped around as the messenger came to a stop. Unconsciously, he tugged at his cravat to hide better his scarring.
“The Duke of Axfordshire?” the young boy called.
“The one and only.”
“I was let in by a footman at the gate. I have two correspondences for you, Your Grace. To be delivered by hand.” He reached into his bag, not alighting from his horse, and retrieved the letters, passing them carefully into Seth’s hands. Seth, mindful of the boy’s young age and attentiveness when delivering the correspondence, tossed him a coin. With an appreciative nod, the boy parted as swiftly as he’d arrived, his horse trotting back down the drive from where it came.
Seth turned to the first letter, not recognizing the handwriting, and opened it.
“Well? What is it?” Charity asked.
“It’s…” Seth sighed as he read the words. “It is an invitation to a ball.”
