“I’m not disapproving.” She flicked her gaze away from him, moisture from her mouth grazing his finger when she spoke.
“If you are not disapproving than why…?”
She raised her shoulders almost to her ears and then dropped them. “I… suppose I do it when I’m anxious.”
That would mean she’d been anxious for most of the past decade.
“What are you anxious about?”
She turned her head, and he dropped his hand back to his side. “Can we just keep walking?”
He paused only a moment but then granted her request.
“Surely, I don’t make you uneasy?” It would be a discouraging beginning to their marriage.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
He’d take that as a yes.
“How do you relieve your tension?” she asked. “You are at easeall the time. Even when you oughtn’t to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t uncomfortable at all for the ceremony. Even though you were late, you sauntered in as though you were the guest of honor at a close family gathering. How does one achieve such composure?”
“But wasn’t it?” he teased. “A close family gathering? And wasn’t I, in fact, one of the guests of honor?” He couldn’t help but add, “And I arrived with a full minute to spare, if you remember correctly.”
“But it was a wedding, you buffoon. People are supposed to feel agitated at their weddings.” She took up walking again.
Chase rolled his tongue along his teeth, adjusting his stride to hers. “Honestly, Bethany, I simply don’t comprehend that succumbing to one’s nerves achieves any legitimate purpose. It accomplishes nothing. Being unaffected… now that’s much healthier.”
“Then you ought to live at least one hundred years… likely more.”
“I’ll agree with you on that.” When he wasn’t needed by his mother or his responsibilities over on Farm Street, he made the most of his free time.
He drank. He smoked. He…enjoyed physical pursuits.
Chase glanced over again. She wasn’t pinching her lips now. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never once considered kissing her.
When he’d been a randy youth, she’d been a child. And once he was older…
A vague memory nudged him. There had been one occasion. About three or so years ago.
Yes.There had been a time when he’d considered her attractive. She’d looked very pretty on the evening of her come-out—which Westerley had insisted they all attend. Her brother had also insisted they all claim a dance with the debutante.
Spring of ’26, just before her father was killed.
“You’re lucky to possess such an advantageous talent. Is this it?” She’d stopped and was staring up at his townhouse. So engrossed in their unusual conversation, he’d hardly realized they’d passed Grosvenor Square and turned down South Audley.
“I suppose it is.” He hated that he wasn’t completely comfortable with the prospect of her meeting his mother.
“Am I allowed to be uneasy for this?” One hand on the balustrade leading up to the door, she smiled weakly, brows raised.
“If you must.”
As they entered his home, however, Chase realized he’d not gotten any sort of answer regarding how to proceed later tonight.
Apparently, the decision was up to him.
