“Inspired by the natural world around them.”
While they continued along the path, he offered no further comment. Not a subject which interested him, apparently. Kealan Walsh would have been quoting Wordsworth by now.
“You have a great interest in poets, Lady Cornelia,” he said unexpectedly. “Would you include any close friends among them?”
Nellie stiffened. Had he heard about her intention to set up a literary salon? Or did he refer to Walsh? Her father would be furious if he walked away because of the poet. And unfair, for nothing untoward had happened between them, except for two chaste kisses on the balcony at Mrs. Burton’s ball.
“Only acquaintances, Your Grace,” she called back. “I imagine you find Cumbria different to Leicestershire.”
“Yes, but the Midlands are not without charm.”
They emerged from the woods and reined in where a stream wound its way, tumbling over rocks, to join the river farther on. On the opposite bank, sheep grazed in a meadow, their black faces and white coats stark against the verdant grass.
“You have brought me to see the sheep, I see,” he observed, a touch of humor in his voice.
Nellie raised her eyebrows. “It’s rather difficult to avoid them. But if you’ve changed your mind about the Herdwicks, we could…”
Shewsbury dismounted.
Nellie clutched the pommel in her right hand and turned to view him. “Oh, you wish to stop here? I thought we might ride over to…”
He tossed the reins onto a bush, walked across to her, and reached up his arms. “Allow me to assist you to dismount.”
She stared at him. What did he intend? To pick daisies? Or ravish her? Really, she should have insisted on the groom coming with them. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t often slow-witted.
His strong hands encircled her waist and lifted her down as her breath fluttered in her chest. Once she found her feet, she tucked her crop beneath her arm and stepped back from him with the pretense of ordering her long train. She felt the strength of his big warm hands on her waist. The man was so alarmingly masculine and unpredictable. Why had he ordered Barnes not to accompany them? While it would be utter folly to fear that Shewsbury might ravage her on her father’s land, especially when he had come here at Papa’s request, he did make her wonder what he might do next.
He turned away and rested a foot on a rock. While she eyed his noble profile, he stared into the water.
“Good trout fishing here?”
“My father has some success in the smaller pools.” So one could add fishing to his sporting activities. A wife might never see him. She searched for a topic of conversation. Really, this was quite awkward. “An archery contest is to be held tomorrow if it’s fine. I trust that will be to your liking.”
“Certainly.”
“And perhaps a game of croquet on Sunday?”
“Indeed.”
She puffed away a wisp of hair floating before her eyes. He was becoming annoyingly monosyllabic. When he turned back from his contemplation of the river, his thoughtful gaze on her made her fidget with her crop. “Shall we go on, Your Grace?”
“Lady Cornelia.” His eyes settled on her mouth as he approached her. “Let us not beat about the bush,” he said, distracting her with a hunting phrase.
“I beg your pardon?” What was she? Fair game?
“If you would prefer to call a halt to this engagement, you have only to say so. I will shoulder the blame, of course.”
Shocked, she stared at him. Then the onus must rest on her. His gentleman’s code was admirable, she had to admit, although it was as Marian said, not always sensible. Did he want to honor his father’s wishes or not? As he’d offered her a way out, should she take it? Her father would be up in the boughs and would never forgive her. Oh, dear, poor Mama. All that money spent on the house and gardens. And it was too soon to judge, for she hadn’t had time to… “I…” Her voice strangled in her throat. “I’m not sure, that is to say…”
“You have yet to make up your mind?” He removed her crop from her hands and threw it on the grass.
She stared up at him wide-eyed, her heart pounding. “Your Grace?”
He took her by the arms and drew her toward him. Surprised, she didn’t resist and allowed his hands to slide around her waist. He pulled her closer, her breasts resting against his chest. Not prolonged or fiercely passionate, the soft touch of his mouth on hers remained after he released her.
“Well, really, Your Grace,” she murmured with what remained of her breath. What lay behind the kiss? If it was to put her off balance, he certainly achieved it.
“Do you wish to marry me or not, Lady Cornelia?” His handsome eyes darkened as if daring her to defy him. “Or do you have some other fellow in mind?”
