“Why should I?” he interjected. “Look around you at the state of this place.”
“I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.”
“You’re so loyal, Hetty.” He took her arm and turned back to the path.
They reached the grassy bank and gazed out over the lentic calm of gray water dotted with waterfowl. “Let’s not talk about it,” he said. “When I’m with you, I want to think of other things.”
“Like what?” She laughed. “The cost of bread?”
A wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “What lies ahead. And how much I like your laugh.”
Pleased, she shook her head at him. “I do declare you would flirt on your deathbed.” She recalled how close he’d come to it and put a hand to her mouth.
He took one step toward her and reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb along the underside of her wrist. “I don’t wish to dwell on death. I want to think of life and how much I enjoyed kissing you.”
“I think we should go back.”
“Why? You’re safe with me.”
Safe, he was the last thing from safe. His gaze rested on her mouth, and she took a gasp of air. “I thought we’d decided to put that in the past. You would not dare to kiss me again.”
His wicked smile warned her that he would. She seemed rooted to the spot as he traced the shell of her ear with a finger, moving down to outline her jaw. “I never turn down a dare.”
“Such rakish behavior is unforgivable, my lord.” She batted his hand away while fighting her own need. It was so hard to resist him.
“You have labeled me a rake, so I’m inclined to live up to your vision of me,” he mocked. She saw hurt in his eyes as he lowered his head toward her.
She stilled. “It’s a matter of trust. Didn’t you just say so yourself?”
Guy straightened and shook his head with a slow grin. “Oh, that is utterly unfair of you, clever, Hetty.”
He offered her his arm, and she took it. As they strolled back to the house, Hetty didn’t feel clever at all, just regretful that he hadn’t kissed her. But the closer they became, the more difficult it would be for her to face the fact he would never be hers. A baron must marry a titled lady, that was an undeniable truth.
Three weeks dragged by while it rained every day, Lady Kemble’s card party the only bright light on the social agenda. If one could call it that. Both Guy and Eustace sent their regrets, but Mrs. Illingworth attended, and her father’s courtship with the widow continued at a leisurely pace.
Bored and frustrated at not knowing what went on at Rosecroft Hall, Hetty turned her attention to the plight of The General. She found her father in his favorite chair in the library, sorting through his salmon fly hooks, his new copy of Thomas Best’sA Concise Treatise on the Art of Anglingopen on the desk.
“Father, we finally have a fine day. Would you like to accompany me on a ride this afternoon?” A ray of sunlight from the window fell on her father’s face, revealing the deep lines and puckers. She almost gasped. He was getting old. When had his brown hair turned sparse and white around his ears?
“Oh, I don’t think so, my dear.” He pushed his pince-nez up his nose and examined a fly more closely. “I’m most comfortable here.”
“Then may Simon accompany me riding your horse?”
“Must you? It looks like it might rain again.”
“Father, can you not find someone interested in purchasing The General? It is cruel to keep him.”
His eyebrows shot up. “My goodness, that’s a spirited request, my dear.”
“Forgive me, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it worries me.”
“I suspect you are right. But it will take time. I promise to ride him this Sunday.”
“Why not this afternoon?”
He looked pained. “I heard talk yesterday in the village that a stranger has been seen lurking about.”
A warning bell sounded in Hetty’s mind. “A stranger? Where?”
