If his mere gaze could summon such heat, such… awareness, what would it feel like to be touched by him? To be his wife?
A moot question if ever there was one.
She could not accept him, so… Goldie bit her lip.
“You look perfect.” His heated stare met hers before he quickly turned to face forward again.
But Goldie knew somehow that he, too, was remembering the kiss.
“It will be fun,” she said, trying to keep their conversation cheerful. “To see parts of London where I’m not usually allowed.” Her father could be quite tyrannical in regard to the freedoms he allowed his daughters. It was Nia, however, who was considered the beauty and most in need of protection.
“Indeed,” Lord Standish said but then fell silent again.
“Have you been before?” Goldie asked before the pause could stretch on too long. “To the fair?” The silence made her uncomfortable. She felt the need to entertain him.
“A few times,” he answered, and a hint of a smile danced on his lips. “When I was younger. It’s an unlikely harmony of mismatched oddities, the vain, the garish, interspersed with an occasional display of nature’s wonders.”
“Not unlike the Ton,” Goldie immediately made the connection and then covered her mouth. Because, as Standish, he was now an official member of society himself. As had been the men who’d died—as were his sisters and mother. “I’m sorry—"
But he interrupted her apology with a burst of laughter—the kind that lit up his eyes—the kind that made her happy that she’d amused him.
“Quite a lot like the Ton, I imagine,” he said. “Although, I’ve yet to spend an entire season in Mayfair.”
“Nor have I,” Goldie admitted. “But I’ve heard things…”
“As have I.” His eyes twinkled, and she noticed tiny wrinkles around them from smiling and from spending time outdoors. Their driver took a sharp turn, and her companion glanced out the window. “You are not uncomfortable spending the afternoon at the fair, then?”
“No. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
He went on to describe a few experiences from past carnivals he’d attended, and suddenly all the awkwardness between them fled.
The driver stopped and opened the small door between his box and the interior. “Afraid I can’t get any closer, my lord.”
The street was, in fact, packed, and after making arrangements with Reed to return to the same spot in three hours, he set them down amongst the bustling throng.
All manner of Londoners seemed to be in attendance, and Goldie was grateful to have worn boots instead of slippers as the crowd moved along the muddy clearing in the general direction of a large striped tent.
When a few of the more aggressive participants shoved them from behind, Lord Standish took Goldie’s hand in his. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
His fingers threaded between hers and their palms clasped together. It felt far more intimate than when he’d taken her arm. Someone jostled them, and the earl shielded her body with his.
Goldie ought not to be so aware of her reaction to this man. But it was impossible not to be.
His protection made her feel special.
It made her feel as though she mattered. Normally such attention was reserved strictly for her older sister. But Nia wasn’t here. Lord Standish was courting her!
“The vendors are up ahead.” He spoke close to her ear.
Goldie nodded, inhaling scents of fried foods and sweets mingled with the unmistakable aroma of too many humans and farm animals. The combination ought to have been off-putting, but amongst the occasional cheers that went up from various booths, along with music being played in the distance, it blended together to create an exhilarating mood.
There was a sense that here, amongst so many games and merchants, anything was possible.
And Goldie was here with a man.
A suitor? Yes, a suitor. Because he’d asked for her hand in marriage. And also…
Because he’d kissed her. Reed Rutherford had kissed her!
