Instead, she tucked her feet farther beneath the seat.
Michael’s followed.
Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes and caught him watching her.
His eyes smiled; they laughed even.
Glenda had finally fallen quiet, focusing all of her attention onto her embroidery circle. And Mary, snoring softly, truly was asleep. As she’d slouched deeper into the elegantly upholstered bench, she not only took up her own half, but some of Michael’s—His Grace’s—half as well. Meanwhile, his boots,hidden under Lilly’s skirt, held her feet captive beneath the seat. How many times had they played games like this during their courtship?
And what in blue blazes did he think he was doing anyway?
He was betrothed!
What kind of a woman did he think she was? Lilly glared at him.
He tapped the side of her ankle with one of his boots. Oh, this was too annoying!
Lilly wanted to throw something at him, but Miss Fussy slept soundly upon her lap. Since she couldn’t reach down and grab a book to launch in his direction, she would have to use her wits.
“Glenda, what type of stitch are you working on today? You ought to show the duke some of your designs.” Lilly spoke innocently. “You have your basket of samplers with you, don’t you?” Of course, Glenda had her samplers…she never went anywhere without them.
“Oh my, yes, Your Grace. How rude of me to work on this while you have no such distraction for yourself! I will make it my personal obligation to keep you entertained all morning.”
Glenda lifted out a basket bursting with various colors of fabric, each embroidered with flowers, butterflies, kittens, ducks, etc. “Now this one I did when I first turned twelve.” She leaned forward and handed the sampler to the duke.
Michael was forced to sit up and take the piece of fabric. This required him to remove his boots from Lilly’s feet. The chuckle she couldn’t keep from escaping drew a frown from him.
Glenda continued, “When I first learned embroidery, I worked on perfecting my cross stitches. See how the thread crosses over itself. It is quite a beginner stitch really. Although it can become rather complex when one does a cross, over an X. Do you see the corners, Your Grace?”
Michael, not one to abandon his manners, graciously studied the wispy, yet colorful material, with something of a grimace on his face. “These?” he asked politely, pointing at the border.
“Oh, yes. Those are the more complex version of the cross stitch. It is known as a Smyrna cross stitch, but Lilly just calls it the double cross stitch, don’t you, Lilly?”
“Yes, Lilly,” Cortland said sarcastically, “have you perfected the—what is it called? The Smyrna cross stitch?” Lilly had not favored embroidery as a debutante. Did he remember?
Lilly had no intention of participating in this conversation. “I have never in the past perfected, nor do I plan in the future to perfect the Smyrna stitch, or any other stitch for that matter. But do go on, Glenda. Show the duke your next sampler.” At which point, Lilly closed her eyes and commenced feigning sleep once again.
Feeling victorious, she wiggled her toes and stretched her legs into the space separating the two benches. Michael’s feet were planted firmly upon the floor.
The rest of the morning Lilly listened in amusement as Michael endured the drawn-out recitation of Glenda’s embroidery progression. Ah, yes, she had won this round.
Mary continued snoring softly.
The party stoppedaround noon to change horses and enjoy a quick luncheon. Miss Fussy made good on the opportunity to do a thorough search of the yard.
This particular inn had mounts available for use, but Michael was hesitant to leave the ladies to travel alone. Highwaymen lurked in the area, and the idea of the three women being overtaken was not something Michael wished to contemplate. They would continue in their travels together.Although the ladies had a driver to protect them, they would be safer with Arty and himself along.
No, Michael reasoned to himself, they were making good time. There was no reason, at this point, to hire a mount. Maintaining their current pace, they would arrive in London late tomorrow. That would provide him with barely enough time to attend his political dinners.
Just as he glanced at his watch, Lilly and Miss Fussy appeared from behind the building walking briskly. The little dog’s tail wagged so vigorously, her entire body wiggled with it.
“We ought not to linger if you are to make London in time.” Lilly glanced around and gestured for the other women to hurry along. “We’ve ordered a basket from the cook so we can eat in the carriage—that is, if you don’t mind?”
She appeared rather adorable, her hand clenched around the strap restraining her dog, rushing the women out of the inn and back into the carriage. For some unknown reason, watching her put something of a lump in his throat. “No,” he said, “A sound plan actually.”
Lilly placed her dog into the coach and then lifted her foot to climb in herself. The yard was muddied, though, and slippery from the previous day’s rains. Just as she lost her footing, Michael stepped forward and grabbed her from behind. His arms wrapped below her bosom, and he pulled her tightly against him. “I’ve got you.” He spoke the words softly. He assisted her to stand again before dropping his hands to her waist.
Lilly was stunned at the shock she’d felt when he’d held her against his body. Even through his coat and shirt, not to mention her layers of clothing, she had felt his strength—his warmth. Michael’s arms had once been the safest place on earth.
