He placed both his hands around her fisted fingers. Such a thin, small hand. Delicate and yet so capable. A contradiction, like its owner. “You see, Mrs. Montrose, I never, intentionally or otherwise, reveal a secret...especially not one of my own. Yet,” he exhaled softly, “somehow, you managed to see it in spite of me.”
Her pinked skin rosed into mauve. Her hand was tightly fisted. Trembling. Ghastly of him to have frightened her so much. He brushed his lips lightly against her dark leather glove.
“Keep what you’ve fairly won. Please.”
She lifted her face to his.
Had he been talking about the penny? Not entirely. But he couldn’t quite fathom the deeper meaning while his whole being was wick to an internal flame. Her face haloed. His focus dropped to her lips. If he kissed her now, he was certain that kiss would forever alter the trajectory of his life.
If he kissed her, her breath would be warm, her lips, pliant and smooth.
When—he bent his head—he kissed her...
“A fine day to be out with the family.”
She leapt backwards with spider-like speed.
He swiveled to face the stranger, shielding her with his body. “Forgive our private moment. Still like newlyweds, we are.”
“Don’t you pay any mind to me.” The elderly stranger chuckled as he waved his hand, summarily dismissing his concern. “I’m heading to see the animals. They’ve been coming through all day on their way north to some toff’s menagerie. Whole village is agog.”
Fee peeked out from behind Hera’s skirts. “We saw the monkeys.”
“Rumor has it, there’s a lion, too!” the man said to Fee.
“A lion?!” Delmare popped out from the other side. “Just like in the story you told me!” He tugged on Hurtheven’s fawn leather breeches. “The one about Heracles. Can we see the menagerie? Can we?”
“I’m afraid the menagerie is not in the direction we are headed,” Hurtheven replied.
“Butmonkeys,” Felicia whined.
The stranger chuckled. “Didn’t mean to rile the wee ones.” He inclined his head. “Good day, then...to you, and the missus.”
The stranger barely turned the bend ahead when the chorus ofpleasesresumed.
“We haven’t the time.” Hurtheven silenced the groans with a raised hand. “However, if the cart with the monkeys has stopped at the inn, and Mrs. Montrose has no objection, you may observe them there while I arrange for a light repast.”
Groans transformed into cheers.
Hurtheven turned toward the nursemaid. Her head remained bowed, as if she wasn’t certain the stranger had actually departed.
“Have you any objection?” he murmured.
“No.” Her voice had gone small and brittle. “Of course not.”
He’d been feeling guilty for touching her before. Now, he felt positively damned. “Since I subjected you to potential gossip, I was compelled to offer an explanation.”
“We are not in a London ballroom, Your Grace.”
Clearly, she’d been more upset by being caught than he’d anticipated, but he couldn’t tell the depth without seeing her face. Short of demanding she look at him, however, or crooking his knuckle beneath her chin and raising her face...
“Just like newlyweds,” she gritted under her breath.
“Spontaneous self-preservation.” Although he was not sure he’d given the correct reason. To claim they were wed, in fact, had felt natural. He crouched down. “Children, while we’re at the inn, we’re going to play a game.”
“What kind of game?” Delmare asked.
“When we get to the inn, we’re going to pretend that we’re a family.”
