“I was nervous about Anne. And it crossed my mind I might meet someone I knew.”
“But you were still willing to take that chance?”
She widened her eyes. “Of course.”
He chuckled as the carriage took off down the road.
A few miles on, Ballantine ordered the carriage to stop when they came to a green meadow dotted with wildflowers. He grabbed a rug from beneath the seat and left the carriage carrying the basket. Handing it to the groom, he helped Diana descend.
They left the driver and groom to enjoy their own feast, with bottles of ale, seated near the horses.
Carrying the basket, Ballantine firmly clasped Diana’s hand, and they strolled deeper into the meadow toward a copse of trees. The sound of a tinkling brook reached them.
“A musical accompaniment,” she said, laughing. “How did you manage it?”
He grinned. “I always plan ahead.”
Beneath the leafy boughs of a chestnut, he spread the rug on a level patch of dense grass and helped her to sit. She took off her bonnet, loving the feeling of the sun on her face, although it would have appalled her grandmother, and then removed her gloves. Nearby, the small brook rushed over pebbles so clear, you could see the bottom. A bird in the tree above called to the flock to come in hope of crumbs.
Kneeling beside the basket, Ballantine removed plates, glasses, and serviettes, the roasted chicken, bread and butter, and a bottle of lemonade.
They sat and ate companionably. The delicious meat was cooked to perfection. When Diana had a piece of the breast, she couldn’t resist licking her fingers.
Ballantine paused while pouring the lemonade. He raised an eyebrow.
Diana fought not to giggle and snatched up a serviette to finish wiping her hands. It hadn’t been intentional, but she delighted in being able to stir him in this way, which was new to her. Conscious of them being alone, she took the glass from him and sipped the refreshingly cool and tart drink. “How far have we to go?” she asked, nibbling a buttered scone while wanting to break the silence that had grown between them. Nerves tightened her chest, and Ballantine seemed suddenly like a coiled spring. Were they closer to finding Anne?
“About eight miles.” He drew up a leg in those tight pantaloons and clasped his knee with his hands, his thoughtful gaze on her.
She recalled how he looked half-naked and hastily tamped down the strong desire to reach out and touch him. What would he do if she did? She brushed crumbs from her skirts. “I hope you don’t feel this is a waste of your time.”
“No. Whatever the outcome.”
She wanted to ask him to elaborate but held her tongue. It was as if their conversation had nothing to do with what hovered unspoken between them. Their kiss was still uppermost in her thoughts, and perhaps in his. She wanted more. More of his kisses, his muscular body, his smell, his taste. She wanted to sleep with him beside her, resting her head on his chest. To wake in the morning and share the days with him. Seek his opinion about some ideas she’d had to make her life fulfilling. It couldn’t be just motherhood, although she would welcome children. There had to be something more.
“We should pack up and get on our way,” she said, aware of his gaze on her, her strained voice sounding odd to her.
Ignoring her need for a little reassurance, she packed the hamper. Although she wanted more from him, she would neverask it, not after he’d virtually accused her of inviting him to seduce her. Thinking of it still stung. A lady should have been demure. Hadn’t her governess drummed that into her? Anne would have agreed. She was effortlessly always a picture of decorum.
“Rest awhile.” He tucked his hands behind his head and crossed his booted feet.
“Don’t you plan to return to Bath before nightfall?” Even though Bath was not far, if one judged it as the crow flew, it seemed doubtful they’d reach there today. She could hardly arrive at Penny’s after dark. They might be forced to spend another night at an inn. Or was that just a wonderful dream?
“What is it you want from life, Diana?”
About to add a plate to the basket, she looked up at him, surprised by his informal use of her name, which was understandable in the circumstances, but also his softer tone, which sounded more intimate. He invited confidences she didn’t feel comfortable revealing. He might find them trivial or foolish. Women had far fewer options than men. His gaze rested on her mouth, and her heart began that incessant hammering. “To be useful, and content, I suppose,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “Doesn’t everyone? To spend my life with a man who understands me. To share my dreams with the man I love.” It was a dream, not the reality. She must do as her father wished. But she still wanted to experience everything she dreamed of with Ballantine before they parted. Would life then become more bearable? She couldn’t convince herself that she could live happily with her memories. She wanted so much more.
“Love?” He sounded almost harsh. “That’s a hard emotion to define.”
Then he hasn’t been in love.“Until one finds the right person.”
“You’ve never fallen even a little in love?”
Yes, she thought,with you.But she shook her head. “Papa is determined to see me married before the year ends. He chooses my prospective husbands, and so far, I haven’t even liked them.”
“What was wrong with them?”
“They were perfectly respectable, I suppose. Perhaps I want too much.”
