James kept hisgaze on Joanna, fearing she may give up her afternoon meal. One moment she sounded so mature and wise and the next she was spinning like a child. He’d never encountered a woman like her. There was something very natural about her that appealed to him beyond her intelligence. Maybe it appealed too much. He frowned at how close he’d come to kissing her. That would be highly inappropriate. But even as he scolded himself for his behavior, his body reminded him of how enjoyable it had been to pull her close.
He shook his head to get rid of his lustful thoughts. Joanna was far from the wife he sought. Not that he didn’t think her capable, just not conventional enough. He simply enjoyed debating with her. She didn’t prattle on about parties and fashion, and heaven forbid the weather. He looked up at the gathering clouds. Though that topic this summer did seem to warrant some attention.
She moved her hand from her stomach and laid it on the step next to her.
Hopefully, that was a good sign. “Better?”
She nodded, though she was still taking slow deep breaths, her gaze on the top of the fountain directly down the path in front of them. She pointed at it. “Is that a gargoyle or a very poor rendition of a baby cupid?”
He turned to look, and a half-dozen or so birds that had been sitting beside it and on it suddenly took flight.
“Oh, it’s a cupid, and not a bad one at all.”
He grinned, now that he saw how she could have thought it a gargoyle, though why she’d think a gargoyle would be on a garden fountain was a question he wouldn’t ask. “Yes, it is. It wouldn’t have been my choice, but it wasn’t one of my priorities for changes when I inherited my title.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Cupid is perfectly acceptable. What would you have wanted, Poseidon?” Her lips quirked up as if she were ready to laugh at his answer.
It seemed as if she was always ready to find the mirth in a situation or the opposing view. How contradictory. “No, if I had to choose among the ancient gods, I’d choose Athena, goddess of wisdom.”
“A female deity?” She raised her brows. “I think she would have been a bit too large for that fountain.”
He smiled. “You’re right. In that case, I’d choose Medusa’s head.”
Her round eyes widened. “Oh, whyever for?”
“When I was a boy, I was fascinated by snakes.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her, anticipating her reaction.
She rolled her eyes. “That says quite a bit about you. I could see you staring at someone until they turned to stone.”
He slapped his hand to his chest. “I? I am anything but intimidating.”
“Must I remind you of your dinner party and your dominance of all the men there?”
He smirked, dropping his hand. “Point made.”
She waved toward the fountain. “And what if the statue didn’t have to be an ancient god of old. What would you choose?”
Now that wasn’t something he’d pondered before. He sat in thought for quite a long time, staring at the fountain. Unlike other women he knew, she did not feel a need to fill the silence. Finally, the answer presented itself. “I think a swan.” He turned to look at her. “Of course, this one wouldn’t be very realistic as the fish spouting the water around the edge of the basin are far too big for a swan to eat.”
She laughed. “Yes, it would have to be a giant swan. I was thinking a heron myself. Those are very large fish.”
“Very practical.” He very much enjoyed the paths her mind brought them down. “Would you like to try to stand again?”
She nodded.
Rising, he offered his hand. She took it and stood, not moving right away. “I do think my equilibrium is stable now.” She let go of his hand. “Yes, I’m fine now, thank you.”
“Would you like to inspect the fountain any further?”
She shook her head and turned toward the glass doors. “No, thank you. I’m starting to feel cold.”
Though she wore no ball gown, her bright day dress couldn’t be warm and the clouds had shut out the brief interlude of sun. “Of course. You have no shawl today, like the night we met.”
At his words, she almost tripped, and he grasped her arm. He stifled his shout of triumph. He hadn’t meant to reflect on that night, but her reaction was all the evidence he needed. The shawl must have been her excuse for being at her coach where she must have hidden his book. It was the logical thing to do. He barely refrained from smiling. Her trip meant she may be suffering a guilty conscience. There was only one reason for her to feel guilty from his perspective. She was his thief.
He opened the door for her. “Maybe I should send for tea.”
She nodded, but didn’t speak. To him, that was more evidence against her. Once inside again, he tucked her hand in his arm and walked her toward the pianoforte where a set of settees and chairs were set up for recitals. He deposited her on a settee. Then he opened the inside doors to the ballroom and gave directions to Harrison.
