Besides, if he did so, he’d be applying pressure again, and he’d already accepted her decision.
She already felt bad for not wanting a life with him. She’d never lied to him. Not once.
He could afford her some of the same courtesy.
“None as expedient,” he said. “Nor, to my knowledge, with dowries as impressive as yours.” He lifted the glass in salute.
“Oh.” She turned her gaze away from him, looking a little disappointed.
It was better for her to be disappointed now than marry him out of pity and regret it for the rest of her life.
But a rebellious voice rose against his conscience.
She would not have regretted marrying him. On the contrary, he would have done everything he could to make her happy. They could have made love to their heart’s delight.
No, in a month, a year, or perhaps longer, she was going to regret refusing him. And then, it would be too late. And both of them were going to suffer for it.
Hunt’s gaze settled on her rosy lips, remembering the taste. Desire shimmered through him.
Before the Duke of Malum had stunned him with the details surrounding his father’s death and then informed him of his expectation to pay, Hunt hadn’t yet considered marriage seriously.
And yet, he’d wanted to marry her.
He remembered the spark of interest he’d felt that day in the park. And the regret he’d had that he couldn’t pursue her.
“When I realized you were Meadowbrook’s daughter, I was not disappointed.”
“You weren’t?”
“Because I liked you.” He would use her word.
She shifted, relaxing just a little. Before she could apologize again, he added, “But I accept your decision. It makes no sense to me, really, but I accept it.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again as though torn about telling him something. Did he want to hear more explanations? He wasn’t sure, and neither, it seemed, was she.
In the end, she settled for a simple “Thank you.”
Shrouded in mostly shadow, he could hardly see her face. If this was their last time alone, he wanted to see her better.
He wanted to see her eyes, the tilt of her lips, the gentle pink in her cheeks.
Hunt pushed himself forward again and located flints so he could light the candles that had been propped up securely, their bases weighted by the sand.
And then he unwrapped the bread and uncovered a dish filled with fruit and cheese and some ham. It was a feast, really.
A second wrapper produced a sweet cake. A bouquet from the orangery had been tucked along the edges, along with a pretty vase.
Cook, like everyone else, would be expecting a happy announcement.
The efficient woman who’d worked at Cliffhouse for as long as he could remember had obviously packed the meal with that in mind.
Perhaps he ought to have left it for the rodents. Why torture himself?
Staring down at the food, he was tempted to brood again. Was he upset because of the lost dowry or the lost woman?
Until recently, the dowry had been all he’d thought about.
Allison removed her gloves, unbuttoned her coat, and then shifting her feet out from beneath her, settled more comfortably. And as though this was a proper tea, and she a proper lady, she placed the flowers in the vase and then began arranging plates for both of them.
