I flushed, hand to my chest. “I beg your pardon?”
“—with Brighton.”
I touched my cheeks, willing them to cool. “With Brighton, yes. Which isnot at allbusiness-related,” I said with deep sarcasm.
He peeked out his window as the carriage started to slow. “I can ask my driver to get us closer to the Pavilion. Or if you don’t mind a walk ...”
“I don’t mind,” I said, and he drew back, studying me as though I were a new creature. I blushed under his scrutiny.
“Is she in there?” Graham asked. “The Anna who tried to make me ride in the saddle all the way down the Brighton Road from London?”
“Oh, she’s still in here,” I teased, lifting my chin. “Always lurking.Waiting.”
He visibly shuddered, and I laughed.
The carriage door opened, and he hopped out to receive me. Strange, to be out alone with him. But Brighton stayed busy. People walked everywhere in all directions, some with purpose, some meandering at a snail’s pace. And it seemed, as I stepped down from the carriage, as though we’d been dropped precisely in the middle of the chaos.
“Mr. Everett,” an older man called, tipping his hat. The younger woman on his arm watched Graham with interest, her gaze only briefly flicking to meet mine.
Graham tipped his hat back. “Mr. Lewis.”
“You’re quite popular here,” I muttered as the driver closed the carriage door behind me.
Graham faced me and smirked. “Oh? Thank you for the compliment.”
I snorted, narrowing my gaze at him. “More like a commentary on your lack of—”
“Mmm,” Graham said, and I stopped short. He tugged at the ribbons hanging from my hat, and I drew in a breath of surprise as the motion pulled me a step toward him. His eyes were soft, lips lifted into a half smile. “Save that hit for later, would you?” he whispered. “Only the good today, Miss Lane.”
My eyes traced the gentle slopes of his brows, the curve of his upper lip, and his smooth skin warmed by the sun. “Only the good,” I found myself promising.
Miss Lane, he’d said as though he’d decided today was a fresh start, and he’d have to earn that familiarity.
“Will you take my arm?” he asked, that serious gaze still set upon mine.
I nodded, reaching out for his left elbow, which he tucked at an angle to receive me. Our steps crunched atop rolled gravel as he led me along the Steine. Shops burst to the brim with tourists. Salivating scents wafted out of certain doors; strong perfumes out of others. Ahead, the Marine Pavilion waited, stalwart and looming, a long rectangle across the level field.
As we walked, a group of boys chased a large, rolling wooden hoop across the lawn, calling to each other, and sometimes daring to hop through the opening. Fishermen’snets, some still dripping with seawater, were strewn long over low fences.
Brighton was a town that lived and breathed.
“Will you live here forever?” I asked, taking in every sight, every sound, every scent.
Graham tilted his head in thought. “I imagine I’ll keep a house. Admittedly, I have not thought much on forever.”
“Why not? You’ve always been a man with his life ordered and set.”
“In some respects, I suppose I am. My life since university has been so focused. On money, on my family and our basic needs. I have not thought much beyond merely living day-to-day in years.”
“How dreary.” I squeezed his arm.
“Thus is my life, Miss Lane. Thus is my life.”
A throng of ladies walked toward us, hiding whispers and giggles behind their gloved hands.
I glanced heavenward. “Tabs saysthe ladiesare always following you around,” I said pointedly.
He became suddenly less dreary, smiling as they passed. “I’ve been cursed with good looks and a mysterious past,” he said to me.
