“Any freckles now?” He leaned over, his blue eyes roaming her face.
“Copious applications of lemon juice,” Nellie said with a grin.
“Ah. But not so effective. I’ve spied two tiny golden freckles on your nose.” He reached over and touched them lightly with a finger. “I’ve discovered I approve of freckles.”
She smiled wryly and handed him a napkin. “I am to believe that?”
He chuckled. “I wonder if there’s any more? I shall have to do a thorough search for them.”
She blushed furiously. “I don’t believe I have.”
He raised his eyebrows. “But you’re not sure?”
She caught her lip in her teeth, trying not to smile. “No.”
“Then, I see it as my task. I am an earnest fellow. Most thorough.”
Was it possible to giggle and shiver at the same time? “Your meal is getting cold,” she said reprovingly.
He laughed and took up his cutlery.
For a while, they ate in silence.
Nellie drank from her wine glass. She could visualize the small boy in this large man beside her. All lanky limbs and tousled black hair. “What were you like as a lad? I have revealed my failings, so it’s only fair that you tell me.”
“Foolishly adventurous,” he admitted, cutting a piece of meat.
“In what way?”
“I liked to swim in the lake. I almost didn’t make it back to shore once. I was smart enough not to go in during the winter.” He grinned. “Cramp.”
Nellie ate some potato, finding this side of Charles completely irresistible. “Were you rescued?”
“My dog, Samson, swam out to me. I was afraid he’d go under, so I simply had to make it back then.”
She smiled approvingly at him.
“I liked to ski in winter.”
“Where?”
“At Shewsbury when it snowed. I fashioned skis from wood and tied them on with twine. Skied down the steepest hill.”
Nellie laughed. “How enterprising.” She could visualize him skiing down that hill the horses had struggled up when they’d visited his estate.
“I was what is called aneck or nothing rider. Fell off one of Father’s hunters and broke my leg when I was eight.”
“Your father didn’t scold you? Try to rein you in?”
“Certainly not. We were put on a horse as soon as we were out of swaddling clothes. Taught to jump soon after.”
“Well, I don’t believe I shall let my son…” Flustered, she pushed away the vision of that small boy holding his French mother’s hand. She bit her lip, annoyed with herself.
He reached for the bottle and poured her another half glass. “You were saying?”
She avoided his caressing blue eyes. “A family tragedy. My cousin, William, died after a fall from a horse when he was twelve.”
Charles gave a sharp intake of breath. “It happens. But death can claim a person’s life in many ways. One might become ill.”
