“It doesn’t matter. I can’t speak long enough to any man for him to want to corner me in a garden. I suppose I’ll never get to find out.”
“You want to be cornered in a garden?”
“No—I don’t know.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t know?”
“Is it wrong if I want someone towantto corner me? Figuratively speaking. Isn’t that something that happens to all girls?”
“Not when they have a brother like me. Amelia can break a nose with the swing of her fist thanks to me.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never struck somebody.”
“We’ll have to work on that. But I hope you never find yourself cornered in a garden.”
Unless it’s with me.
“I don’t understand.” Her breath feathered over his lips.
He bent closer, his heart pounding, guilt waring with pure need, but at the last second, he turned his head and kissed her cheek instead of her mouth. He could deal with her disappointment better than his guilt. Blakewood would call him out for this, even if Sam’s intentions were halfway decent. Better Sam for her first kiss than some wastrel. But Sam feared if his lips touched hers, he wouldn’t be able to stop at a kiss.
As he would have predicted, she blushed.
“Is that what happens when one is cornered in a garden? I thought...”
He raised his brows and backed away. Now she was going to question him? He couldn’t take the temptation. He sidestepped her, only wobbling a little as took a seat in the chair beside his bed.
“No, but what kind of friend would I be if I took advantage of you?” He folded his arms and crossed his ankles. She seemed confused and disappointed which matched his feelings exactly.
His door opened and Miss Smith carried in a tray of cake and tea. Sam thanked the stars he’d had that moment of clarity and stepped back, or they could have been caught. As it was, he’d entirely forgotten about Miss Smith and refreshments. They were lucky she hadn’t returned earlier.
Mr. Chase followed Miss Smith into the room.
Sam glowered.
Mr. Chase hung his hat on Sam’s coat rack and ran a hand through his thick black hair as he took in Daisy.
“Have you been crying?” he asked.
Daisy wiped at her eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?” He turned a glare toward Sam.
Daisy giggled. “It was someone else.”
“Who?” Mr. Chase pressed.
“What business is it of yours?” Sam asked. It was his job—and Blakewood’s job—to protect Daisy.
Mr. Chase rolled his eyes.
“Why are you here? Sam asked with irritation. “You don’t usually return until after dinner.”
“I’m meeting Mrs. Dove-Lyon here. She’ll be arriving shortly.”
“I can simply refuse her call. Who does she think she is to arrive uninvited?”
Mr. Chase scoffed. “No one refuses Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon. I’d think you would have learned that by now. Refuse her and you’ll only anger her and make her more insistent on monitoring your recovery. Is that what you want?”
