“Thank you,” she said, her fingers stilling on the keys. “Is Ava-Marie settled?”
“Almost instantly asleep,” he confirmed, moving into the room.
He came to stand beside the pianoforte, his tall figure outlined by the firelight. In his riding clothes earlier, he had looked like the farmer he’d been in Ireland—capable, practical, strong. Now, dressed for dinner in evening attire, he seemed more the aristocrat again, though the two identities no longer seemed at odds within him.
“Julian seems impressed with the estate’s potential,” Courtney observed, filling the silence that had settled between them.
“He’s been incredibly helpful,” Lucien agreed. “He has a head for agricultural improvements that I admire. We’re discussing the possibility of introducing new breeding stock for the sheep, though the investment required is significant.”
“The Merino crosses Rockwell mentioned?” she asked, recalling their earlier conversation on the beach.
He nodded, his expression curious. “I listened to your advice and discussed it with Julian.”
She smiled, offering no explanation for her knowledge. “One picks things up in ballrooms. Plus, Julian is always discussing his latest farming venture at family gatherings.”
Lucien studied her for a moment, as if trying to reconcile this practical knowledge with the accomplished lady who played Bach so expressively. “You continue to surprise me, Lady Courtney.”
“I hope that’s not unwelcome,” she replied, her fingers idly playing a soft chord.
“On the contrary.” He took a seat beside her on the bench, the proximity sending a shiver of awareness through her. “I find I enjoy being surprised by you.”
They were close enough that their shoulders brushed, her silk sleeve against the fine wool of his evening coat. Courtney was acutely conscious of his thigh pressed against hers through thelayers of her gown, of his clean masculine scent mingled with the faint aroma of brandy from after dinner.
“Play something else,” he requested softly. “Something you enjoy.”
She began a gentle Mozart impromptu, the notes rippling like water under her fingers. Lucien watched her hands, his expression thoughtful.
“You mentioned we spent time in Mrs. Baxter’s cottage,” he said suddenly. “What were we doing there, exactly?”
Courtney nearly missed a note at his direct question. “We…spent time together,” she said evasively, concentrating on the music.
“Alone?” he pressed, his voice holding a hint of amusement.
“Yes,” she admitted, her cheeks warming.
“Unchaperoned?”
She sighed, giving up any pretense of propriety. “Yes, Lucien. Unchaperoned. We would ride out, ostensibly to hunt or sketch or collect botanical specimens, and sometimes we would stop at the cottage.”
“To do what, exactly?” His tone was teasing now, his eyes alight with mischief.
Courtney stopped playing, turning to face him fully. “If you must know, we would talk, read, sometimes just sit together by the fire. And yes, occasionally we would…kiss.”
“Just kiss?” he asked, his voice dropping lower.
“Mainly,” she replied, maintaining eye contact despite her blush. “Though there may have been some…exploration. Nothing that would compromise my virtue,” she added hastily. “Not until that last night before we left to go back to London and you to Ireland.”
Lucien’s expression softened; the teasing replaced by something more profound. “I wish I could remember it,” he said again, his voice tinged with regret. “Not just the physicalaspect, but the intimacy of it—knowing you so well, being so comfortable together that we could share those private moments.”
His honesty touched her deeply. “We can build that again,” she said softly. “It doesn’t have to be the same, but it can be equally meaningful.”
He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek. “You’re extraordinarily patient with me,” he observed. “Most women would have given up by now.”
“Perhaps I’m not most women,” she replied, leaning slightly into his touch.
“No,” he agreed, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “You’re certainly not.”
The tension between them was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each beat of her heart. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she knew he was thinking of kissing her again.
