“Peter.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. Sitting this close, she recognized immediately that his pupils had dilated. “Call me Peter.”
She thought he was going to kiss her but instead, he turned back to the road.
“And I like listening to you. You have a beautiful voice.”
She laughed. It was a silly thing to say.
Again, he glanced sideways, this time only for a moment. “You think I’m joking?” He shook his head. “Your voice is melodic but not too high-pitched. Smooth and rich, with a hint of breathiness, a sound that enfolds me like sunshine on a winter’s day.”
“I thought you were a musician, not a poet.” But his words had a similar warmth enfolding her. “Or perhaps you are describing your favorite wine.”
He moved the leather straps into his right hand, and then dropped his left atop both of hers. “Why did you walk with me last night?”
His questions weren’t easy ones. She clamped her mouth together.
“As I’ve only a few days to become better acquainted with you, I have no wish to waste them discussing the weather.” The man’s persistence wasn’t easily thwarted.
“Why do you want to become acquainted with me at all?”
He sat silent, seemingly contemplating her question. It was only fair that she could ask personal questions as well.
“I think I’d like to be your friend.”
Her first instinct was to laugh at that. Because most friends didn’t do the things they’d done with one another. Nor did they do the things she imagined they would do later this evening. But before her cynical self could mock his answer, her aching heart stopped her.
Because she hadn’t any friends. She had acquaintances, social equals, and servants but no one she truly considered a friend.
Her father hadn’t allowed her much freedom as a young girl. If he had, she wondered if she would have been nearly as amenable to his wishes. She hadn’t been allowed to mingle with other ladies until after she’d become betrothed, and by then most had all but dismissed her. One in particular had outright accused her of seducing Baldwin to gain position and wealth.
She hadn’t denied it because she hadn’t understood what they’d meant.
Baldwin had been her first true friend, her only friend, her last friend. Perhaps that was why she was the way she was. Disconnected, separated.
“When my father brought me to London for my debut, my friendships were limited to meaningless conversations with other ladies in between dances. A few of the young women were friendly, but in truth, I wasn’t one of them.” She was talking about herself again, but he seemed not to mind. “After I married, Baldwin allowed me all the freedom I’d ever wanted, but by then...” Everything was different. She’d never belonged to begin with and after her marriage belonged even less. She shrugged. “I kept myself busy at home. I’ve accepted a few invitations since coming out of mourning but...” People treated her much the same as they had before.
But now it was because of her own behavior. Because gentlemen gossiped worse than ladies and because she’d not cared to pretend to be something other than what she was.
“Ladies pretend to like me. I am a Countess, after all. But their comments are thinly veiled insults. Always with a smile, of course, and always spoken in the most condescending tone of voice. There. Now you’ve done it. You’ve got me complaining.”
He didn’t respond, and so she stared off into the distance.
And then she lifted her chin. “My affairs with gentlemen aren’t nearly as complicated, nor are they as hypocritical. Each one is… a straightforward transaction. An equal exchange involving mutual benefits.” She needed him to know that although he was acting as though they were courting, she required nothing more.
“So, you don’t want my friendship.”
“I didn’t say that.” But had she?
“You said your affairs with gentlemen were transactions. What if I want more than that?”
She inhaled sharply. “You don’t.” And yet she was squeezing his hand with both of hers. “You are going to Brighton and will focus all of your passion on your music. You are destined for greatness and then you will settle down with someone of whom your family approves.”
“Would you be amenable if I was so presumptuous as to tell you I knew what you wanted? Would you like it if I dictated your future to you?”
“I would not like it.” But she was right, although she wouldn’t argue with him.
“So, you will be my friend?” He was smiling again. “And my lover.”
“Tonight. As for more than that—” She lifted one shoulder and then dropped it.
