Shifting back around, he snapped the reins and spoke with a finality that brooked no refusal or debate. “Now, where to next?”
And so, Rosanna directed him along, and before they passed the final cottage on the lane, Mr. Malcolm’s expression brightened, and he threw himself into speaking about his antics with his childhood friends (of which there were many). She couldn’t help but feel as though his conversation was a bit like the magic coin he’d used to distract the Wilkins boys, but as the fellow was entirely too engaging for his good (or hers, rather), Rosanna allowed herself to get lost in it.
With each delivery, the conversation grew easier, and Mr. Malcolm was always there to soothe the children during the visits and Rosanna after them. And despite her belief to the contrary, it did seem to grow easier with practice, though she despaired at the thought of having to do these alone the next time the charitable impulse seized her.
Of course, it was far too easy to imagine dragging Mr. Malcolm along on those as well, and despite that being beyond ridiculous, Rosanna allowed herself to picture it. She couldn’t keep her thoughts in check—or her heart from sinking as the afternoon drew to a close and they turned back to Boxwood Manor.
Stopping at the crossroads that led to his employer’s home, Mr. Malcolm handed over the reins and hopped down.
“Are you certain I cannot take you closer to the manor?” asked Rosanna.
But he shook his head. “You’d best not attempt to forge that mighty river once more.”
The fellow had the audacity to wink at her yet again, and Rosanna attempted to frown at the impertinence, but it was impossible when his eyes were alight with laughter.
Mr. Malcolm stood at the side, gazing up at her as he leaned against the gig. His expression sobered for a moment when he added, “The wheel is holding together well enough to get you home, but you’d best have your groom take a look at it. And take the main roads there. They should be in a better state and unlikely to cause further damage.”
His tone gave an air of finality to his statement, as though readying himself to leave, but Mr. Malcolm remained leaning against the gig.
“I must confess I am plagued by a question,” he said.
Rosanna raised her brows. “And by stating such a strange thing in such a mysterious manner, am I to be overcome with such curiosity and pester you into voicing the question you clearly wish to ask me?”
Dropping his head with a shake, Mr. Malcolm chuckled before he lifted his gaze once more. “You refuse to make things easy for me.”
“And why should I, Mr. Malcolm?”
He gave a sharp nod to concede the point before his gaze grew studious. For a long moment, he watched her, and though Rosanna thought she ought to feel uncomfortable at such scrutiny, there was no awkwardness in it.
“I find myself thinking again and again about our conversation about your matrimonial goals,” he said, and the calm of the moment before fled as Rosanna recalled just how much she had told this relative stranger. Even now, she couldn’t comprehend how he’d winkled so much truth from her, but with his gaze fixed upon her, Rosanna knew it had been an easy thing. She didn’t know why, but Mr. Malcolm felt like a kindred soul. A friend.
“You refuse to throw in with all the other ladies, who are determined to catch my master and his wealth. So, I have to wonder if a discerning woman, such as yourself, would welcome the overtures of a man who has proven himself to be a charming friend and companion—even if he is only a lowly groom?”
Rosanna’s breath caught. “Pardon?”
“What would you say if I were to arrive on your doorstep, longing to pay a call on the lovely Miss Leigh? To speak to your father about whether or not I may court you?”
Why wouldn’t her lungs function? They had done their duty admirably for the past seven and twenty years, yet at present, they were determined to suffocate her. Matters weren’t helped by Mr. Malcolm’s deep blue eyes, which held hers with such tenderness that it felt like a caress. Yes, there was that cocky tilt of his lips, but his gaze traced her features with the gentleness of a lover’s touch.
There was no doubt that he was an attractive man. Especially when he wasn’t forcing the issue with that ludicrous attempt at flirtation he’d made before. And the past few hours had shown just how much Rosanna enjoyed his company. There was a commonality between their thoughts and humor that couldn’t be denied.
Yet the situation was impossible. A lady who struggled to navigate a tiny cottage couldn’t live in one. For a single heartbeat, she allowed herself to ignore sanity and embrace the fantasy. Mr. Malcolm was just the sort of man she’d longed for, and it was easy enough to imagine living a life at his side, full of laughter and genuine conversation, mutual appreciation and respect. For all that young Rosanna hadn’t understood those enticements, she knew now that such were the greatest attractions.
But reality couldn’t be denied, and it knew all too well that such dreams could never come true.
Even if Rosanna Leigh bucked her family’s expectations entirely, she could never make a servant a proper wife. She didn’t know how to lay a fire, cook a meal, weave, bake bread, clean, and all the rest. Certainly, there were aspects she could learn, but it wasn’t merely a matter of snobbery but practicality. Prudence was far more capable, yet she struggled with a physician’s income; how much worse would it be for her fashion plate of a sister?
“I…” Rosanna stumbled over her words, not wishing to say the truth yet unwilling to let Mr. Malcolm’s hopes simmer. “That is very flattering, sir. I…”
Brows pinched together, Rosanna scoured her thoughts for what to say. She had ample practice in calming a gentleman’s ardor, so it ought not to be a difficult task, yet she struggled for the words. For the first time, she didn’t want to speak them.
“Mr. Malcolm, I assure you I enjoyed our drive together—”
“You needn’t say another word, Miss Leigh,” he replied with a teasing grin that made her think she certainly must say more, for there was no hint of defeat or dejection in that expression. If anything, Rosanna would say the challenging lift of his brow and lips said quite the opposite.
Which he made very clear when he swept into a bow and added, “I often have time to myself in the early afternoon, and I enjoy wandering this stretch of the property. If a certain young lady were to enjoy a stroll at that time in that place, that would be quite fortuitous. Of course, such a visit would be merely a friendly thing. No expectations of any sort, mind you.”
“Mr. Malcolm, I cannot—”
