“Shall we visit the sea?” Lord Ferrard asked as they neared his brother’s home.
“If that is your wish.”
“It is,” he smiled before he led her down the sloped, treelined lane until they stood at the edge of the beach. She closed her eyes and inhaled, taking in the fresh, salty air, and absorbing the sound of the waves as they crashed onto the shore and against the cliffs farther past the inlet.
“I think you prefer the sea,” he offered quietly.
Violet opened her eyes. “I have no preference of one above the other. The two offer separate interests and enjoyments.”
“Shall we sit,” he gestured to one of the three benches that had been placed here decades prior. While he chose one, the sisters chose another, farther away, which would allow their conversation to be more private.
“Other than the obvious, how do the two differ?” he asked.
For a moment, Violet wondered at his odd question with obvious answers. Yet, he’d been asking about preferences, not factual information, so perhaps he wanted to know what she considered the differences to be. Which were, in her mind, obvious. However, she’d indulge him.
“Flowers are predictable. A seed is planted and with proper sun and water, it grows and eventually blooms. The survival is based on the care it receives.” She turned to focus on water. “The sea, however, is unpredictable. It can’t be guided or controlled by man, only nature.”
“There are some predictions,” he offered thoughtfully.
“Yes, high tide, low tide, a storm makes for a rougher sea, whereas calm does not, but often, when simply looking out, one does not know what is occurring beneath the surface or just over the horizon that is affecting the waves that reach the sand. It’s the not being able to predict with any certainty what the sea may hold tomorrow that makes it far more intriguing than a flower.” She studied the waves as they rolled onto the shore as new questions bloomed in her mind. “Do you think men take to the sea so that they may travel to other parts of the world, or is it the sea that intrigues, to live with the unpredictability or desire to understand?”
“Perhaps it is a little of both,” Lord Ferrard finally said in a low, thoughtful tone after a long moment, as if he had been considering her question. He then glanced down and studied her. “I think perhaps you prefer the sea.”
She stared back out over the bay and at the waves building in the distance as the clouds grew thick on the horizon. Yet she didn’t know if they were going to experience a storm, or simply rough seas, as she did not possess the knowledge to make an accurate prediction of what was to come. It was always a fascination. “Perhaps you are correct,” she finally admitted something that she hadn’t realized herself. “It’s yet to be fully understood, and might never be. At least, for me, as I only take pleasure of it while on land. However, there is satisfaction in planting a seed, watching it grow and come to full bloom, and witnessing the benefit of what one tiny seed could offer to butterflies and bees. From seed to honey.” She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s all rather remarkable, don’t you think?”
Chapter 8
She was rather remarkable,but Emory kept the thought to himself. Lady Violet didn’t just appreciate a flower for its beauty or scent, but well beyond.
“What of you, Lord Ferrard. Garden or sea?”
He stared down at her, noting interest in her green eyes. “It used to be the sea, but I think I may now prefer gardens.”
“Ah, you prefer predictability.” She nodded.
That wasn’t the reason for he was beginning to appreciate who could be found in gardens.
“Lady Violet, I fear if we do not return you soon that you might burn your delicate skin,” Lady Joanna announced. “You did not bring a parasol and one of your age must protect their complexion.”
Emory had forgotten that the maiden sisters were chaperoning them.
“It will soon be time for us to return to Forester Hall,” Lady Joanna announced.
“Yes, of course,” Lady Violet stood and turned to Emory as he came to his feet. “Thank you for the lovely stroll and conversation.”
“It was my pleasure.” He took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips then brushed them lightly while studying her face. Not a flicker of shock, nor did her face color with embarrassment, nor did she dip her chin with shyness. Instead, she looked directly into his eyes, and desire shot through his being. Never had such a simple gesture affected him.
They did not converse as they strolled back up the lane, but he could hear the whispers of the maiden sisters behind. Lady Violet glanced up at him occasionally, a frown and questioning in her eyes.
Had she been affected by the brush of his lips upon her gloved fingers, or was she simply wondering why he’d acted in such a spontaneous manner?
Whyhadhe kissed her fingers?
Because he had wanted to kiss her lips.
Bloody hell, this was not what he’d anticipated to occur during theircourtship.
As they reached the top of the lane, Lady Violet paused.
