So why had she looked at him as if he’d insulted her?
James exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his jaw. The confusion gnawed at him worse than the sleeplessness. He’d thought theyunderstood each other. Thought she might welcome his tentative overtures toward something more permanent between them.
Instead, she’d fled as if he were some sort of predator.
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding.
“Enter,” he called.
Digby stepped inside, impeccably dressed despite the hour, carrying a silver tray with fresh linens.
“Good morning, my lord. Shall I assist you with your toilette?”
James set his cup aside. “Yes, thank you, Digby.”
As the valet moved efficiently about his duties, James found himself grateful for the man’s steady presence. If anyone might have insight into the mysterious workings of the feminine mind, it would be Digby.
“Digby,” he said as the man laid out his fresh shirt. “May I ask you something?”
“Certainly, my lord.”
James hesitated, uncertain how to frame his question without impropriety. “When a gentleman believes he’s made his honorable intentions clear to a lady, yet she reacts as if he’s offered her some form of insult instead…”
Digby’s hands stilled on the waistcoat. “Ah.”
“Have I said something wrong without realizing it? Something that could be misinterpreted?”
The valet’s expression remained perfectly neutral, though James caught the slightest hint of understanding in his eyes. “In my experience, my lord, the most well-intentioned words can sometimes be heard quite differently than they were meant. Particularly when delicate matters are discussed with excessive subtlety.”
“You think I was too subtle?”
“I think, my lord, that a lady of refinement might require rather more explicit assurance of a gentleman’s honorable intentions than he realizes. Especially if there are social considerations at play.”
James frowned as Digby helped him into his shirt. “Social considerations?”
“A lady of modest circumstances might be more sensitive to implications of impropriety, my lord. More likely to assume the worst rather than the best of a gentleman’s suggestions.”
The pieces began falling into place with sickening clarity. Of course. He’d been thinking of their class difference as an obstacle to overcome, but she might see it as proof that marriage was impossible. That he could only be offering something far less honorable.
“Good God,” he breathed. “She thinks I was propositioning her.”
“It would explain the lady’s distress, my lord.”
James closed his eyes, mortification washing over him. No wonder she’d run. No wonder she could barely look at him over dinner.
“How do I fix this, Digby?”
The valet fastened his waistcoat with practiced hands. “I believe, my lord, that this particular misunderstanding calls for absolute clarity. No more subtle hints or delicate implications.”
James nodded grimly. He’d spent so much time trying to be a gentleman that he’d forgotten sometimes being direct was the more honorable course.
He would have to find her today and make his true intentions unmistakably clear—before she convinced herself he was a complete scoundrel.
*
Later that morning,he went out to the gardens, hoping to find Georgie. He had the feeling she’d been avoiding him since last night. She hadn’t joined them for breakfast and she wasn’t in her usual place in the study. Cecily had hinted that she might be out for a little fresh air.
The air outside was damp and rich with the scent of turned earthand wet grass. Mist clung to the hedgerows, and the first shoots of tulips poked up from the ground. He followed the gravel path through the orchard, past the boxwood maze, and toward the stone bench beneath the ancient hawthorn tree.
