Then, with a vague wave of her hand, she returned to the conversation. “I assure you they are not that interesting.”
“Ah, but they are your family, and I wish to know more about you, Miss Leigh.”
Rosanna stilled, hardly daring to look in his direction as they swayed with the gig. How could one little sentence cause such a discordant stir of emotions? In one moment, her heart warmed at the thought that Mr. Malcolm cared, and in the next, she was chilled—not only because this was a relative stranger but because she found herself drawn to him.
His eyes always glowed with laughter, fairly begging one and all to feel the joy of every moment. However, his smile held just a touch of wickedness that made it clear to all and sundry that Mr. Malcolm was no brainless jester.
And his jawline. There was something intrinsically attractive about a strong jaw, and it was one of the features guaranteed to make her swoon (if she were inclined to such behavior). Mr. Malcolm had it in spades. The attraction was compounded when those long dimples sliced through his cheeks.
But then he ruined it. Keeping his hands firm on the reins, Mr. Malcolm turned in her direction and gave her the most ridiculous expression. There was a twist to his brow that she supposed was meant to be saucy, and a pout to his lips that confirmed his intent. The expression pulled his features in such strange directions that Rosanna couldn’t help the snort of laughter that forced its way past her defenses.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, straightening in the seat with a frown that was so genuinely offended that Rosanna’s giggles grew, and she couldn’t help but surrender to them.
“I apologize,” she said when she could finally breathe again. “I truly do, but if that is your attempt at a flirtatious glance, it is an unmitigated disaster.”
Mr. Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “I will have you know that many young ladies have been won over by that flirtatious glance.”
Rosanna covered another burble of laughter. “Perhaps those ladies preferred a different sort of man than I do. There is something about your cheekbones that makes you look more pretty than handsome. A sharpness that makes you look a tad…”
She couldn’t think of a word that wouldn’t cause more bruising to his pride, and though Rosanna was finding great delight in teasing Mr. Malcolm, she didn’t think even his arrogance could withstand being called effeminate.
“I catch your meaning, Miss Rosanna,” he replied in a dry tone.
Leaning over, she gave an extra push to her sway, bumping his shoulder. “You are handsome enough on your own, Mr. Malcolm. To put such effort into your expression only gilds the lily.”
And at that unintendedly feminine metaphor, Rosanna couldn’t help another laugh, and though her escort clearly didn’t care for the added humor, there was a faint turn of his lips that said his puffed-up pride remained intact.
“If you don’t wish to speak of your family, perhaps you might elaborate just on your sister. Prudence, isn't it? You’ve mentioned her a few times.”
“Prudence married last year to a physician in town, Dr. Parker Humphreys,” said Rosanna, settling into this easy subject. As it was innocuous enough, she required little prodding to speak of her dear elder sister and her new family. But for all her good intentions, her conversation quickly drifted from there, trailing through her other siblings and parents, even touching on her grandmama for a moment.
Mr. Malcolm merely listened. It was such a simple thing, but Rosanna couldn’t think of another person who contented themselves so thoroughly with listening to the little troubles of her world. He offered up an opinion or two, but mostly, he let her rattle on about their goings-on. It was as though he truly saw her. Heard her. And the feeling was intoxicating.
Despite her better judgment telling her to stop, Rosanna let her tongue loose, even speaking in detail about the past year and the changes it had wrought in her. And the wretched Mr. Courtney, and her terrible behavior during Prudence and Parker’s courtship.
Though truth be told, Rosanna couldn’t quite detest either of those things. Difficult though they had been (and she shuddered at the thought of her own behavior in that past life), they had helped to form her into her present self. Rosanna couldn’t say she liked the lady she was, but she felt deep within her heart that she was on the right path, which was far more than she could’ve said twelve months ago.
All the while, she guided Mr. Malcolm with a few directions, knowing Bess was drawing ever closer to their destination, and then they’d be too occupied to enjoy such free conversation. As Boxwood Manor was quite far from the rest of civilization, the journey was enjoyably long (especially when Mr. Malcolm drove at a snail’s pace), but soon they would arrive at the outcrop of cottages that housed most of the families they were to call on.
“You are an indomitable lady, Miss Leigh,” said Mr. Malcolm.
As much as that statement sent a jolt of warmth through her veins, Rosanna couldn’t help but shake her head. “You are being too generous in your praise.”
Mr. Malcolm scoffed. “Trust me when I say I am not. I simply ran from my mother when her harping grew too much for me. You remain entrenched in your parents’ influence, yet you hold strong to your goal. That is impressive.”
“What other choice do I have?” she asked with a sigh. “I have no money, and even if I were bold enough to attempt a profession, I haven’t the skills or connections to do anything. So, I must remain under my father’s roof.”
“People far too often say they ‘have no choice’ when the truth is they simply do not care for the choices available,” said Mr. Malcolm. “You could’ve married that fool or some other man to please your parents and secured yourself a comfortable life. Instead, you refused to bow beneath your parents’ pressure or give in to fear and accept whatever offer you were given, and you continued your search for a husband you admired. My dear Miss Leigh, you have a choice, and you have taken the more difficult path.”
“I fear you are under the misconception that I am brave, Mr. Malcolm, but I assure you I am a fearful creature.” Nodding down the road, Rosanna sighed. “We are about to arrive at the next of my deliveries, and I am quaking in my boots. I would much rather return home and forget the whole mess.”
Mr. Malcolm leveled her with a steady gaze as unshakable as the words he then uttered. “And yet you still urge me forward, rather than turning us back to town. Courage isn’t being without fear. It’s not giving in to it.”
Rosanna’s ribs seemed to expand, pressing outward as though they couldn’t contain all the lovely and wonderful things she’d just heard. Her heart reveled in it, allowing Mr. Malcolm’s words to weave through her, strengthening her far better than any inherent bravery he thought her capable of. And as much as she wanted to deny it, Mr. Malcolm’s tone and expression brooked no refusal. She couldn’t speak a word against it.
“Now, what has you so frightened about visiting a few tiny cottages?” he asked as the buildings came into view.
Chapter 8
