Chapter Ten
The curricle slowed.
Bea felt it before she registered it.Archer was easing the bays into a graceful, measured trot as he turned them off the fashionable path and down a narrower lane running beside the water.Taller willows shaded this part of the park, their branches trailing like whispered secrets along the water.The main carriages were several lengths behind them now, and the noisy crowd thinned to only a handful of strollers.
A more private stretch.
He was up to something.
Archer drew the horses to a stop with practiced ease.The bays tossed their heads once before settling.
He hopped down lightly—far more nimbly than a man of his height had any right to—and came around to her side.
“Allow me,” he said.
No doubt it was the same agreeable tone he used when arguing in the House of Lords, right before presenting a devastating counterpoint.
Before Bea could object, his hands went to her waist.
Warm, steady, scandalously confident hands.
She inhaled sharply.Not because of the impropriety—though there was that—but because ofhim, his scent.Clean starch, warm skin, and something crisp and masculine beneath it all, like cedarwood warmed by sunlight.It tightened something low in her stomach.
He lifted her down as though she weighed no more than a pocket handkerchief.
Her feet touched the ground, and she stepped back at once, though it did nothing to steady her pulse.“You ought not to touch me without warning.”
Archer’s eyes—dark, knowing—danced.“My apologies.Next time I’ll call out a full set of instructions.”
She recognized the jest for what it was—an olive branch—and declined to take it.“See that you do.”
His smile was slow and devastating.Then he offered his arm.
She accepted because refusing would have looked petulant.And because the ground was uneven.And because she was absolutelynotrattled by the width of his shoulders or the strength beneath his coat.
Not in the least.
They began walking along the edge of the lake, the water glinting pale silver where sunlight met ripples.
She cleared her throat.“I hope you don’t think that you can ruin me in order to force me to marry you.”
Archer blinked, his surprise convincing enough to give her pause.“Ruin you?Whyever would I do that?Your father would call me out at first light.”
“Then why are we here…alone?”
Archer slowed but did not stop walking.“Because I was curious.”
She shot him a look.“About what?”
“About why you argue the way you do.”
That made her pause.“I argue perfectly well.”
“You do,” he agreed easily.“But you don’t repeat what others say.You build from first principles.It’s uncommon.”
She narrowed her eyes.“You’re fishing.”
“I’m listening,” he corrected.“Tell me, when others insist the shipping reform bill will harm small ports, are you disputing the point…or the assumptions behind the argument?”
