No, the problem arose when she, in bed with hot chocolate and a fashion plate she was flicking listlessly through, was informed that Mr Comerford had come for her.
She snapped her jaw shut, irrationally irritated. “Come for me? In which respect has hecomefor me?”
“I don’t know, my lady. He asked if he could see you.”
“I’m indisposed.”
“So I told him, my lady, but he insisted on seeing you.”
“Did he?” She gritted her teeth, but underneath that was a curiosity that would not be appeased. “Very well. Show him up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid curtsied and left the room; shortly after, George entered.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You may be inclined to satisfy yourself with me, but I confess I am not.”
A smile spread across his face as he stood beside her bed. “Is that what you thought I came here for?”
“What else?” She held up her fashion plate. “I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged today.”
“My poor darling. Does it hurt very much?”
She speared him with a glare. “As though you could imagine it.”
“No, very likely not. I brought you some strawberries.” He held up a brown paper bag. “And to request the pleasure of your company.”
“My company? I thought we agreed that we should not be seen together.”
“You stated; I did not agree or disagree.” He perched on the bed beside her, removing a strawberry from the bag and offering it to her. “Are you partial to strawberries?”
“I don’t understand.” She rubbed at her forehead, wishing her headache would ease. “Why have you brought me strawberries?”
His smile was amused. “Do you think me ignorant of women? I suspected what was afflicting you when you asked for a week’s break.”
“That doesn’t explain this.” She gestured at the strawberries. “Or your sudden intention of spending time with me.”
“I happen to like both,” he said, shrugging and biting the strawberry, white teeth breaking through the soft, red flesh. The sight was oddly erotic, and she found herself absurdly wishing she was not on the heaviest, and worst, day of her monthly courses. He grinned at her expression of consternation. “Don’t worry, love. I did not come here with an ulterior motive.”
That was not the reason for her frown; the reason was that he evidently intended to take her out. And shewantedhim to.
Foolishness.
She could not bring herself to deny him.
“Where would we be going?” she asked.
“Hampstead Heath,” he answered immediately. “I have a picnic made up. We will have nothing to do but sip champagne and sit in the sun—or the shade.”
“I don’t wish to walk far.”
“Then we won’t stray far from the carriage.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this not the behaviour a gentleman should show towards his future wife?”
His grin deepened, and he leant in, one hand coming to her chin. “Such a sharp tongue,” he mused. “It’s fortunate it feels so good on my—”
She tossed a pillow at him. “Out.”
He rose and walked to the door. “By the by,” he said, pausing, “it’s evident you married young, or you would have known that a young lady of Qualitynevertravels unaccompanied with a gentleman to a place such as Hampstead Heath, whether they are due to marry or not.” He clucked his tongue. “Really, you ought to have known that, my love.”
