“No, it’s not.” He guided the horses through a particularly narrow gap between two larger carriages with the skill of a man completely at ease with the reins. “But then, you didn’t seem interested in details when you agreed to this outing.”
“I assumed we were making polite conversation in a public setting,” she said stiffly. “The sort of thing married couples do to maintain appearances.”
“Appearances.” Hugo’s voice held that familiar note of dry amusement. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what motivated my invitation.”
Then what did motivate it?
But before she could voice the question, they were turning through gates she didn’t recognize, following a tree-lined drive that seemed to lead away from London entirely.
“Hugo, where are we?”
“Richmond,” he replied calmly, as though taking her miles outside the city without warning was perfectly normal behavior.
“Richmond?” Her voice came out higher than intended. “But I thought… you said Hyde Park?—”
“I said fresh air and conversation. I never mentioned Hyde Park specifically.”
The arrogant, manipulative?—
“Yes, you did. You deliberately misled me.”
“Did I? Or did you make assumptions?” He glanced at her with those infuriating dark eyes. “Seems to be a habit of yours.”
A habit of mine? The nerve of the man.
“Turn around,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. “Take me back to London immediately.”
“No.”
The simple refusal, delivered with calm certainty, made her want to throttle him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said no. We’re here now, and you agreed to an hour of my company. I intend to collect on that debt.”
“This is kidnapping,” she said through gritted teeth.
“This is marriage,” he corrected smoothly. “Specifically, a husband taking his wife for a pleasant afternoon drive.”
Pleasant. There’s nothing pleasant about being manipulated.
“I want to go home.”
“Do you?” He guided the curricle to a stop beneath a spreading oak tree then turned to face her fully. “Because you don’t looklike a woman eager to return to polite conversation and proper boundaries.”
Stop looking at me like that. Stop seeing things I’m not ready to acknowledge.
“What do I look like?”
“Like a woman who’s been running from something for so long she’s forgotten what she’s running toward.” His voice dropped to that low register that always made her stomach flutter. “Like someone afraid to want things for herself.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Hugo shifted on the seat, bringing himself closer, close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Then tell me, Sybil. What do you want? Right now, in this moment, what do you want that has nothing to do with duty or responsibility or taking care of others?”
You. I want you to keep looking at me like I’m the most fascinating woman alive. I want you to touch me the way you almost did last night. I want to stop fighting this and see what happens if I just… surrender.
“I want to go home,” she said desperately.
