Now he needed to figure out how to breach the ravine between friendship and romance. How to make her see him as more than just that good ol’ Wesley, dear sweet Wesley, as she liked to say, and view him as a man who would lead her down dark hallways or press her into the hedge and kiss her senseless.
That's what hewantedto do. But he would never. He was a gentleman, and he took that seriously. He'd seen her dress down rogues and blades. She was not a woman impressed by such tactics. So, what would impress her?
He was having a devil of a time trying to find out how he could woo Willa. If he knew her like he thought he did, a straightforward conversation might do the trick, but it couldn't be that simple, could it? He wanted to see her eyes go smoky with desire. He wanted to know without a doubt that she returned his affection—hell, even the word affection was too placid for what he felt for her.
She made him ache with longing. Made him sweat and curse and burn, but what did he make her feel? He hoped something. Wesley thought she might…
He wasn't sure he'd hid his feelings well, keeping the fire of his passion for her banked. He didn't want to frighten her with his ardor. Under that willow tree, he'd been so tempted, and he knew some of that fire had slipped out in his gaze, but had she seen it? Was she aware of it at all?
Her friendship did mean a great deal to him.
He didn't know what he would do if she rejected him. Once he had formal permission to court her from her assortment of brothers-in-law, he was going to slowly woo her. There was no rush. She might need a bit of convincing and time to switch her thinking of him, but he hoped—no, he prayed—that soon she would see him as more than a friend, more than honest and sweet Wesley, so that when he proposed she would say yes.
They shared a pot of tea and then Wesley went home. Lord Luckfeld was resting with his wife, and Wesley didn't want to impose on their new family time. He returned to his house, soaked through, and there Ned was, waiting. Good old Ned, the best friend a man could ever ask for. Though his attempt at growing a fashionable mustache wasn't going well. The slash of black above his lip looked more like a steak of boot black than a mustache.
“Well?” Ned asked.
“He was sleeping.”
“Sleeping? At this hour?”
“They just had a baby, Ned. Imagine how tired they must be.”
“Exhausting for her ladyship, yes, but him?”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “One day you'll understand how babies are made, Ned. Until then, I'm not going to explain it to you. Ask your governess.”
Ned shoved at his shoulder. “What did you say to Willa?”
“I invited her to dinner tonight.”
“Oooh, will this be a special dinner?”
“No, I didn't—”
“Just say it. You didn't propose, you didn't tell her how you feel, you're a coward.”
Wesley glared at Ned. “How many women have you proposed to?”
“None, but I'm also not in love with any, drooling after their skirts like a nauseated puppy.”
“Fair point,” Wesley said, “but it wasn't the right time. She's made up some ridiculous plan, and I know she intends to go through with it. There's just no convincing her once she's made up her mind.”
Ned scratched his mustache. “What sort of plan?”
“She intends to lie to her sisters and make the four-day trip to London by herself.”
Ned's brows raised. “She can't do that. She’ll be ruined.”
“That's what I told her, and I thought maybe I had convinced her, but knowing her, she will just do what she wants anyway.”
“So what are you going to do? If you know she will do it anyway, you have to do something. Best-case scenario, her reputation is in tatters. Worst-case scenario—”
“I know. I thought about it all afternoon, but her mind is set. She's beyond weary of her sisters hovering over her. She thinks this will prove her independence.”
“You have to do something,” Ned said.
“What can I do?” he asked in exasperation. “I offered to escort her. You and I with a maid to chaperone but she rejected that idea. She wants to do it by herself on the stagecoach.”
