“You are still unwell,” she whispered as they waited for the marquess and one of his outriders to assist the other ladies into the luxurious carriage. “You ought to be in bed.”
“I look worse than I feel.” The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek when he half-growled his response.
She only wished the tiredness around his eyes didn’t contradict his claim.
“How are you?” he asked.
She had quite missed the tenderly spoken question. He had only come tonight because of her.
Which gave her an idea.
He was obviously unwilling to take the evening to rest for himself but would undoubtedly make accommodations if she claimed to grow weary. She would simply cut the evening short by offering a complaint on her own behalf.
“I am a little tired,” she answered, punctuating her admission with a soft sigh. She’d wait until after supper, and perhaps a dance or two, to request they make an early evening of it. But first, she simply wanted to be with him. When he’d sent word that he was ill, all she’d wanted to do was go to him.
She’d wanted to sooth his brow and sit at his side. She’d wanted to return some of the comfort he’d provided her in the past.
“Tell me when you’ve had enough.” His arm felt strong beneath her hand.She had missed him. “And I’ll escort you home.”
Over the past two months, he’d proven to be steadfast over and over again. His physical strength was only rivaled by the steel of his character. Until she’d received the message that he was too ill to escort them shopping, she hadn’t truly considered that he could ever be vulnerable.
And tonight, despite not being fully recovered, he had come anyway. How ill must he have been to have cried off?
The realization, the reminder that he was not invincible, was a sobering one.
Because not only did she need him, as the father of her child, but also, she… simply needed him!
“You are looking far too serious for a ladyen routeto the pleasure gardens,” Lord Greystone commented after they were all seated. Felicity, Posy, and Cordelia shared the front-facing bench and the Marquess, his older cousin, and Axel shared the opposite.
Felicity summoned her smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this outing all afternoon. Thank you so much for including me.”
“As one of the guests of honor, I’d be more than remiss not to have. I’m more than happy to celebrate the betrothal of my good friend to one of London’s most sought-after ladies.”
At such an over-the-top compliment, Felicity couldn’t help but smile. “I am the lucky one.” She met Axel’s eyes, feeling a need to convey her sincerity. Because she was, in fact, very, very lucky.
What if some other man had found her in the thorn bush that night? She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Because…
Going through all of this with anyone but Axel was unthinkable.
“Have you been to Vauxhall, my lady?” Lady Posy asked from beside her.
“Please, call me Felicity.” Vauxhall was not a place to be formal and in a matter of minutes, the ladies were all on a first-name basis with one another. Felicity told a few stories of previous trips she’d made to the pleasure gardens, and her excitement grew as she embellished on the romance of the setting. Because most of all, she remembered the almost surreal lowering of inhibitions that, matched with the general excitement of the prospect of fireworks at the end of the night and the free-flowing champagne, left one feeling that anything was possible.
She and Axel would dance together for the very first time, and for no reason that she understood, it seemed more appropriate that they do so away from the eyes of the ton.
His gaze caught hers from across the carriage. Was he imagining the same? Holding her in his arms, twirling her beneath the night sky filled with stars overhead? She pressed her thighs together when she dared imagine being alone with him again.
Their courtship had been quite unconventional up until tonight and she saw no reason for it to change now.
Was that what this was? A courtship?
She held his stare for as long as she dared. Already her blood was thrumming through her veins. Felicity shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Ten minutes later, standing beside him on the barge, floating across to the island, that familiar magic settled over them like a gentle caress.
Never, in all her years as Westerley’s intended, had she felt so protected, socherished.
A cool breeze stirred the air, and when the boat lurched, he steadied her instantly.
