“I first saw you here when our families had dinner together. I believe it was your first day here before your first season,” he replied.
“Yes, I remember now. Luc's brother and sister had just returned from school for special visits. That seems so long ago.”
“You were wearing a green silk gown,” he said, “and it was rather enchanting how it shimmered in the light.”
Willa blinked. “You remember the dress I was wearing?”
He gazed at her with something like embers in his eyes. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Heat washed over her skin, and she sucked in a breath.
What was that?
She’d never felt anything like that before, not with Wesley, not with any man. He was her friend.
“You left quite an impression. I will say that,” he said.
Willa didn't ask any more. She felt off-balance, as if she stood on sand and it shifted beneath her feet.
What had she been saying? What had he been saying?
“I forgot what we were talking about,” she said.
“Your return to London. Are you going straight there, or will you stop and see more of your family?”
“Straight there,” she said. Should she tell him? For some reason she wanted to. Even though she just knew he would disagree with her plans. The urge wouldn't go away.
“My family thinks I'm going back with Georgie, but Georgie thinks I'm going back with Josie.”
“You leave tomorrow, don't you?”
“Yes, but… I intend to travel back alone.”
His brow furrowed. “Alone? You can't mean you intend to travel by yourself. That isn't safe.”
“It's perfectly safe for women to travel alone. I see it all the time.”
“Those women don't look like you,” he returned.
“You mean like daughters of gentlemen or a person of wealth?”
“Either. I return to my first point. Those women don't look like you. Why would you want to do that?” he asked.
“To prove that I can, of course. My sisters and parents never hovered over me like this. They treated me like an adult, like I had a brain of my own and could make my own decisions, but now they want to tell me what to wear, how to do my hair, where to go, what to say, what to think, how to act. I'm not a heathen. I know how to behave. I understand that our circumstances have changed a great deal, but I didn't suddenly become incapable of taking care of myself just because I have a new wardrobe. I am perhaps more prepared than any of them. I had a season. I know what society expects of me but this level of”—she fisted her hands at her sides—“confinement is maddening. I'll prove to them how ridiculous they are being by making the four-day journey on my own.”
“How are you going to do that? Hire a private carriage?”
“No, I'm going to do it just like any other person, by stagecoach. It's quick and efficient. I've planned every step of the journey and allocated the necessary funds for my room each night.”
“God above, you're going to stay in an inn alone? You can't be this naïve.”
“I will have a disguise. No one will bother a widow.”
“A young widow with a milk-and-honey voice like yours? You will be accosted your first night.”
“I know how to defend myself. I am related by marriage to a duke, one who used to travel the world as a prizefighter.”
He rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Please tell me this is some elaborate tale to give me indigestion?”
“It most certainly is not.” She folded her arms and mirrored his belligerent frown.
