He sighed.Enough.He said, “I’ve something to tell you, Miss Allard.”
She went still and looked up.
He gave his head a shake.“Danielle,”he corrected.
She waited.
“Forgive me,” he bit out. “I’ve never known how to address you.”
“I’m called Dani,” she said carefully. “You know this.”
“I will not refer to you asDani.”
“Alright. How will you refer to me?”
They’d come to a fork in the river. The gnarled roots of a massive willow created a dam, diverting the river to the right. To the left, a small lagoon was concealed by the canopy, a heavy curtain of green. Luke jabbed the riverbed with the punt, slowing the boat. “Where the devil does this lead?”
“If we remain on the river, we’ll turn up in Swanley and the tearoom Amelia favors. But can you push left? That’s Beckley Pond. It’ll be easier to turn around in the pond. The River Len reduces to little more than a stream in Swanley.”
“Watch your head,” he said, maneuvering the boat under the fronds of the tree. She leaned, and the fronds of the willow slid over her like a sheet on a line. Luke pushed again, bending and twisting his body to pass through without being knocked into the river. When they emerged, he was hatless and had a stick in his hair. There was a spray of feathery willow leaves at his feet. Miss Allard laughed.
“Funny, is it?” he asked. “I see now, you’re trying to garrote me.”
“My plan revealed. You shouldn’t have allowed your chaperones to mutiny.”
“The chaperones were for you,m’étoile, not me.”
She blinked at him. A blush rose on her cheeks. Luke swore. He’d not meant to use the term of endearment. Never in his life had he referred to a woman by some pet name. It simply... slipped out. Several times now it had slipped.My star.
“Why do you call yourself a bad man, Captain?” she repeated.
“Forgive me, I misspoke. Put it out of your head.”
“Fine,” she said. “Why this confusion over how to address me? You are aware of my name.”
She’d handed him the perfect inroad. No question was better suited to what he had to say. He need only find the bloody words. He swore again, avoiding her gaze. Of all the people on the entire planet, why washethe man burdened with revealing her identity? How had Fernsby described it? A conversation that would impact the entire rest of her life?
Luke stirred the murky water with the pole, buying time. Jabbing downward, he tested the depth. The pole went, and went, and went—the pond was far deeper than the river. The water was nearly to his glove before he pulled back. He gave a shout and hopped backward, trying not to fall in.
“Careful,” she said.
He blew out a breath and lifted the pole. For a long moment, he held it out, allowing mud and plant life to drip. Beckley Pond was swampy and overgrown. Lily pads clogged one side and the willow-tree dam bent over the other. In the middle, there was a sandy little island.
Miss Allard waited. He refused to look at her. There were hooks on the side of the boat for the pole, and he busied himself, snapping it in place. When his hands were empty, he sat down on the opposite end, resting his arms on his knees.
“Have mercy, Captain,” she said softly. “Please.”
He nodded. “Give me a second.” He closed his eyes.
“I can admit that I know very little of flirtation, or betrothals, or even men,” she said. “This is obvious to someone of your experience.”
He opened one eye.
“It’s displeasing to you,” she continued. “You’re—”
“I am not displeased,” he countered, even though he’d avoided innocent women for as long as he could remember.
“You are remote,” she accused. “You will not communicate. It gives me no pleasure to hound you for conversation, but I am bold enough to ask, and ask again, until I learn what’s happened. You were perfectly friendly before the... before the library at Eastwell Park. And now you are detached. And yet I know from my parents that you intend to move forward with a wedding. You are detached and yet you intend tomarry me. What’s happened? And what do you mean, you are a bad man? In what way? You don’t know how to address me—why not? You’ve something to say to me—what is it?”
