They took a turn about the ballroom. He said nothing. She glanced up at him, but his expression gave her no answer to his changed demeanor.
Why is silence from him so much louder than words from anyone else?
She took in a breath. “Your Gr?—”
“Not here,” he said, steering her through the crowd and toward the tall glass doors that led to the terrace.
“You might at least endeavor to explain yourself.” April’s voice cut clean through the darkness as they descended the short steps into the gardens. They were alone, just beyond the terrace,shielded from the ballroom by a respectful distance and the privacy of night.
Theo halted though he did not turn. Not yet. He could not trust himself to meet her gaze without consequence.Not while every nerve in his body still remembered the weight of her hand on his arm.
“What precisely was that display inside?” she asked. “Calenham had barely spoken a dozen words, and you nearly tore my arm from its socket.”
“He touched you.”
“He kissed my gloved hand, which is what is done. You introduced us.”
He turned then, slowly. “He looked at you.”
April gave a short, incredulous laugh. “And for that, you meant to challenge him in the rose garden?”
His jaw tightened. “Perhaps I did.”Because I could not endure the sight of him imagining you were free to be taken.
She folded her arms. “This is nonsensical. You hauled me out here as though overtaken by fever, and now, you stand there?—”
“I am not inclined to share, April,” he said, his tone clipped. “If the matter rested solely with me, we would be wed by now.”
The words rang in the quiet. He had not meant to speak them aloud, but once free, he made no attempt to recapture them.She needs to hear it.
She stood frozen. He stepped toward her, and she retreated. Another step, and her back met the tall hedge that bordered the terrace, her soft gasp the only sound between them.
He stopped mere inches from her, and the air between them thrummed. Her eyes searched his face, not fearful nor indignant but curious.
Theo braced one hand against the hedge beside her head. The other hovered near her waist but did not trespass. He leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to inhale the delicate scent of jasmine and… citrus, perhaps?
He did not kiss her though he yearned to. God help him.
“You act as though I belong to you already,” she said, her voice softer now but no less pointed. “Do you imagine I shall simply surrender because you’ve claimed me with a look?”
“No,” he replied. “I do not imagine anything where you are concerned. I know only what I want.”
Her brow arched slightly. “And what is that, exactly?”
“That I cannot abide watching another man imagine a future with you. That I cannot watch you ignore my proposal without legitimate reason.”
Her breath caught though she tried to mask it with a lift of her chin. “You think too much of what I pretend.”
“I think only of what you are unwilling to say.”
She said nothing. The silence trembled between them, charged and waiting. Then, in a rough whisper, he asked, “What is it that keeps you from accepting my offer?”
She blinked several times, her lashes fanning her cheek.
“It cannot be the gentlemen who lavish you with attention. You have no care for them. I watched you this evening—you smiled, yes, but not once did you appear engaged.”
Her lips parted, and she lowered her eyes. When she spoke, it was not with sharpness but with emotion. “Because I wish to be someone. Not merely a man’s wife. I want to be chosen—not endured. Seen, not managed, Theodore.”
She stared up at him then, and the force of her gaze rendered him nearly unsteady on his feet.You are already someone. You undo me without effort.Theodore also realized they were addressing each other by their Christian names, and he endeavored not to be affected by it.
