“No more of what?”
“All this ‘My Lady’ nonsense.”
“You are a lady.” He leaned on the table, inching closer towards her. He said it with such a deep tone that for a second, he thought he quite entranced her. She had mirrored his action so that their arms practically brushed together on the table. “What else should I call you?”
“Just my name,” she pleaded. “I do not wish to bother with my title.”
“Caroline,” he murmured. He would gladly call her that name, though he almost thought she didn’t suit the name particularly. He wondered if the more he got to know her, maybe there would be another name he’d form for her, a nickname. “What about a nickname?”
“What did you have in mind?” She shifted her arm now so that they were indeed touching. He hesitated, not yet speaking as he thought much of that touch.
She was warmth personified. Where he had expected a prim lady of the ton, perhaps one so reserved it would be like dining with a woman made of ice, he was quite wrong.
You are a delightful surprise indeed.
“There’s Caro, or maybe Carrie, or Callie.”
“Callie. Call me Callie,” she said suddenly, descending on it with a smile.
“Callie, it is then,” he murmured and shifted his arm so that his hand brushed hers. She jolted so much in surprise that this time, she did indeed spill wine over the rim of her glass.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She put the glass down and snatched up her napkin, mopping both the tablecloth and the sleeve of his tailcoat where the wine had fallen.
“Do not worry about it.”
“But oh, that is going to leave a stain.” She mopped it by moving the cloth in circles, something he hadn’t seen done before. He raised a hand and laid it over hers on his arm.
The touch was such an intimate one that she froze, those green eyes shooting to meet his.
“Do not worry about it, Callie,” he assured her. She smiled, blushing that pleasant shade of pink again. “I can sort this in a moment.” He released her hand and shrugged off the tailcoat so that it dropped over the back of his chair. Now, he was in just his shirt and waistcoat. He could not miss the way her eyes danced across his torso and the way his waistcoat hugged his chest.
This was perhaps the first time in years that Marcus was thankful he kept himself in good shape by riding regularly. If he could have an admiring gaze like that every day because of it, then it was time well spent.
“Forgive me for prying.” She rested her elbows on the table, eager to talk now. Glad to see she wasn’t bothering with this rule of elbows off the tables and was much more focused on just conversing with him, he mirrored her position again, the pair eating as they talked. “When I arrived, I saw you had cottages on your land. Are they your tenants?”
“They are. I have many. Farmers and farm hands,” he said, nodding as he told her. “I take care of the cottages and support them where I can.” He had significant land and holdings, but at the moment, he could not take care of them all in the way he wished to because of his problems with money.
“And the people, what are they like? Are there families?”
“There are.” He smiled, curious as to why she was interested in talking about them. “There is a farmhand who I count as a good friend. He has just married and has had a baby boy. Never have you seen a happier man in this world. He wanted to take over the smallest cottage on my land, but it wouldn’t have done for a family.” He grimaced at the memory of when they had looked around the cottage together. “The steward and I made arrangements for an extension to the cottage so the farmhand and his wife could move in just before the boy was born.”
“That’s so generous of you,” Caroline said in awe. She reached for the carafe of wine and topped up for the two of them.
He paused just long enough to mark this. Once more, it was tradition for him to have been the one to pour the wine, yet she poured it with ease as if it was something well practiced to her.
“It’s my responsibility to help them as a landowner. I only wish I could do more.” He fell quiet, not particularly keen on revealing that the big plans he’d had for his tenants he now had to hold back on because of his father’s debts handed down to him.
If we marry, that problem goes away.
His eyes traced over Caroline as she lifted her glass to her lips again. There was a delicacy to her, an elegance, yes, but the informality in her had put him more at ease than he could have possibly hoped for.
Maybe marriage will not be so bad after all.
“It is a kind thing indeed that you should want to do more,” she said conversationally. “There are some landowners out there that look at the people’s rent as their birthright.” She wrinkled her nose in subtle disgust.
“Then I pray I incur your admiration and not your wrath for my treatment of my tenants.”
“You are on the right path, I’d say. Tell me you hold parties for the children’s birthdays, and you’ll have me so much in awe that I’ll …” She trailed off, blushing even redder as she promptly put some chicken in her mouth.
