‘I wanted to continue our discussion of last night. Before our dance ended, I asked you what you did for pleasure. You did not have time to answer me.’
She hadn’t. It had been such a novelty to find a man who wished her to talk about herself instead of just listening to himthat she’d been too shocked to say a thing. It was even more shocking to find that he had remembered what he’d said and was still waiting for an answer. He was acting as if he really cared.
‘I like to read,’ she said. ‘I paint and play the pianoforte.’
He was still staring at her expectantly.
‘I am also skilled at needlework.’
He stopped.
So did she.
Bessie, who had not been paying attention, bumped into her, then took a step back.
Westbridge raised a doubtful eyebrow. ‘I have come to suspect that, when girls make their come-out, their mothers empty their heads and replace their brains with a card file of appropriate conversation. You have used cards one through three on me now.’
‘I am an ordinary girl, with an ordinary set of accomplishments,’ she said, trying not to sound defensive.
He shook his head. ‘Yesterday, you were telling me of birthing lambs. I expected to be similarly surprised when I asked your interests.’
‘If I were to tell you how I passed the time in the country, you would think me boring at best, and simple at worst.’ Even a consummate liar such as he would not be able to feign interest in the real her.
She turned away from him and began walking again at a somewhat quicker pace.
He hurried to catch up. ‘Does it matter what I think of you? I did not think you had the need to impress me in any way.’
He was right. It shouldn’t matter. Maybe, if he thought her dull, he would leave her alone. The thought made her sad in a way she did not fully understand.
‘When the weather is fair and I have nothing more useful to do, I like to sit outside, under a tree,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I read. And sometimes, when the book is not interesting enough, I steal a bit of sugar from the kitchen and sprinkle it around an ant hill. Then, I watch the insects discover it and carry it inside to present to their queen.’ She walked on, afraid to look in his direction.
When he did not say anything, she added. ‘Sometimes, I take my sketchbook and draw pictures of them. Other insects, as well. My mother has declared my watercolours entirely inappropriate for display and requested I limit myself to flowers. But I refused.’ When she glanced in his direction, he was grinning.
‘A naturalist,’ he exclaimed. ‘That is much more the sort of thing I wanted to hear. Is it just ants that you fancy, or will any insect do?’
‘I have a preference for ants. But bees are very interesting, as well. If none are to be found? Dragonflies, beetles…’ She shrugged, embarrassed.
‘You must tell me everything,’ he said in an awed tone.
She shook her head. ‘If you wish to learn about insects, I should think there are several clubs and societies here in London that could teach you far more than I.’
He skipped ahead of her for a moment and walked backwards in front of her. ‘Certainly not, Miss Fisk. I do not want a dry scientific lecture on the subject. I wish to hear your views. We must go somewhere quiet where you can tell me everything.’
‘I do not think…’
‘I know just the place,’ he said, ignoring her protest. ‘How do you fancy Scotland?’
She stopped dead again, sure that she could not have heard what she thought he’d said. ‘What?’
‘A pledge over the anvil,’ he said, standing in front of her and patting his coat pockets. ‘I have my mother’s ring with me, and a pair of fast horses harnessed to a post-chaise. We could be out of London before you are missed and in Gretna Green in three days.’
It was the sort of wild, impetuous suggestion that she had dreamed of, but never expected to hear, especially not from the lips of the Duke of Westbridge. But dreams were all they were. Real proposals, the sort one got as a result of a London Season, were carefully orchestrated and all parties involved had agreed to the wisdom of the match.
And there was no wisdom to be found here. Her heart might be hammering out a yes, but that had more to do with the desire to run away from responsibility than it did with an urge to marry. In any case, the man in front of her was not to be taken seriously.
She responded the only way she could. She forced herself to laugh, surprised that it sounded almost natural.
There was a moment of silence. Then, he said, ‘Have I said something amusing?’ and looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic smile.
