“Would you like some food?” Lucian asked pleasantly as he sorted through the items sitting atop the quilt.
How could he do that? How could the man act as if theyhadn’tspent the entire night tangled in a sweaty heap in each other’s arms, giving each other pleasure unlike any Gemma had known? She could still hear his groans and the way he called her name when he —
Not helpful.
She cleared her throat and made a show of poking some more non-existent errant hairs into her bonnet. “Yes, please,” she finally managed.
Why was this so awkward? Would it always be this way? If so, the next two months would be excruciating. And as for the two months, they weren’t even going about their arrangement properly by having lunch in their own backyard. “If you wanted us to be seen, we should have gone to the park,” she informed him as he piled bread and cheese on her plate.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Gemma nodded toward the grapes. “I mean our own gardens are hardly a place to make a show of things.”
His frown intensified as he pulled a cluster of grapes off the pile and placed it on her plate. “A show of things?”
She took the plate from him and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I assume the reason you want me to pretend to be happy is to keep up appearances for theton.”
Lucian sat back on his heels and blinked. “Is that what you think?”
She arched a brow. “Isn’t it the truth?”
He reached down and plucked a grape from the cluster and popped it into his mouth. “Are you always so suspicious?”
She lifted her chin. “No, actually. I’m normally not suspicious at all.”
He smiled at her and it did things to her insides, things she didn’t want to examine too closely. “Only with me then?”
“Normally, I see the good in everything and everyone. Until they show me any differently. Like Lady Mary did for instance.”
“And like I did,” Lucian said solemnly.
Gemma nodded and pushed a grape around her plate. “I’m not myself around you. I can’t be.”
“Duly noted,” he said, rising back to his knees to pour the wine. “And thank you for your honesty.” He handed her thefirst glass of wine and met her gaze with a truly remorseful expression. “Look, Gemma. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before. I’m sorry I thought the worst of you. I realize now that I was wrong.”
Gemma couldn’t help her eyes widening in surprise.
He must have seen the skepticism on her face because he continued, “But I’m mostly sorry that I’ll have to re-earn your trust because of my stubborn pride.”
Wine glass in hand, she eyed him carefully. Lucian Banks was saying he was sorry. And not just sorry, but sorryand wrong. She wouldn’t believe it. Only it had to be more of his act to charm her in order to make her abandon the divorce. It was going to take much longer than the first few days of their agreement for her to believe he was anything other than an actor who would stop at nothing to save his family’s reputation. Anyone could pretend for a day or two. But two months was quite a long time.
Still, she watched him from beneath her lashes, intrigued by both what he’d just said and his appearance. She’d never seen him like this. So casually attired. His waistcoat was gone and so was his jacket. He didn’t even have a hat. He wore dark-brown breeches, black top boots, and a white shirt. He’d even forgone a cravat. He looked relaxed. He could be any man pouring a glass of wine while lounging atop a quilt in the grass. He certainly didn’t look like a duke, the leader of one of the most powerful families in the country. And he didn’t look like the overbearing, controlling ass she knew him to be either. Which reminded her how dangerous he was when he acted this way.
He settled back onto the quilt with his glass of white wine and crossed his legs in front of him. Such an unexpected pose. It made her smile, but she quickly hid her smile behind her wine glass when she took a quick sip.
Lucian settled into the quilt and sighed. “So, Gemma Brooks Banks, in addition to rides in the park and playing the pianoforte, what else do you enjoy doing?”
Her brows shot up. “There’s no one else here,” she pointed out.
He glanced around. “I know.”
“So….” She drew out the word slowly.
“So? What?” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on her, clearly confused.
She sighed and fluttered a hand in the air. “So, you don’t need to pretend to care about things such as what I enjoy doing.”
He pressed his lips together as if trying to squelch a smile. “What if I’m not pretending?”
